Page 95 of Versions Of Us

And now as I lay here in the darkness, I try not to believe what I know in my heart to be true.

I’d taught Em the meaning of the wordsDum spiro speroand she’d later used them in conversation.

Mackenzie had used the same saying tonight.

Em had made an unwarranted comment about my mum moving on with a ‘stand-up guy’ when she was never previously informed about Ben.

But it’s possible that Mackenzie did know about Ben at the time.

I’ve only heard from Em once since Mackenzie showed up here in town.

Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation. Maybe I’m becoming paranoid. But the more I turn this information over in my brain, the more convinced I become.

That Mackenzie is Em.

M for Mackenzie.

Chapter 39

HENLEY

I’ve been awake for hours, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to leave this bed. Not even to close the gap in the curtains where a steady stream of bright sunlight pierces through the otherwise dark room directly into my bloodshot eyes.

I don’t remember much of last night. I remember being at the carnival, the way my chest deflated seeing Kristen with Chase’s arm draped around her neck as they left the gates of the big zipper. I remember being on stage and the paralysing fear that had gripped me when I thought Mackenzie might have been in danger. I have some vague memories of doing shots in the bar with EJ afterwards.

Or maybe it was just me doing the shots now that I come to think of it.

Kristen’s face flashes into my mind, a backdrop of stars behind her, the glow of the moon like a halo around her long dark hair. She was there last night, somewhere along the banks of the river, but that’s as far as my memory will take me. The rest is a blur.

A glance at the clock lets me know that my shift starts in thirty minutes. I drag myself into the shower, my head heavy as lead. Shit. How much did I drink last night? I try to scrub away the regret, but the sour taste of shame lingers.

Dylan sizes me up when I enter the tavern half an hour later. “You’re gonna have to pay for that bottle you took from behind the bar last night.”

“What bottle?”Jesus, what did I do?

He shakes his head, his bottom lip curling in annoyance. “Wild Turkey.”

I nod once. That explains the hangover then. “Sure. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t make a habit out of it. I don’t want to have to tell Steve that the guy he’s taken a chance on is fucking things up. Again.”

I grit my teeth. I want to say something to defend myself, but he has a point. I am fucking things up. So instead, I nod reluctantly. “I’ll do better.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Dylan mutters under his breath as he saunters back to the kitchen.

I start clearing the tables along the window when I notice Old Tommy hunched over in the far corner. I pause, a stack of plates resting on my forearm. Another day that he’s visiting the bar before it’s barely hit midday means another night that I’ll be kicking him out for intoxication. I’m hungover and I don’t have time for this bullshit today.

I slam the stack of dirty plates down in front of him. “Back so soon?”

Old Tommy lifts his head slowly and then he does something unexpected. He snickers at me. “You’ve never really liked me too much, have you kid?”

A fair comment. I haven’t really kept my disdain for Old Tommy a secret.

“I just don’t understand you. Why are you always here?”

“This coming from the kid that can throw back Wild Turkey like it’s fruit juice.” He huffs out a laugh. His eyes crinkle at the corners and I realise Old Tommy is even older than I thought he was. “You didn’t seem to mind me hanging around last night. Thanks for the shots by the way.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, my headache suddenly severe. “What shots? I wouldn’t buy you shots.”

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