Page 112 of Come Back To Me

Mollie sobs, and I let out a sigh. I pull away and walk to the door, resolute. I need to get ready for when Costa gives us our next shipment details. I can’t get distracted. Not by her or by anything. This shit is all on me now. “Get me those letters,” I tell her.

I walk out, not looking back.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

DEAN

Once upon a time, I would have done anything for the man sat in front of me. He would have done anything for me. He was my brother. My best friend. The reason I started enjoying my life again.

But he’s dead…

What I’ve never felt towards him is anger. Never felt infidelity or had an urge to jump across a table and batter him with my bare hands. They’re the emotions residing in me at present.

Jack simply stares. He takes in my cut nose, the blood still dripping from my hand which now is squeezed so tight, the pain starts to throb. I can feel the beat of my heart against the opening.

A dizziness makes my head swim. Maybe it’s the blood loss. Or maybe it’s the fact I’m sat in front of a ghost. A ghost who haunts me. Taunts me. Talks to me every day, keeping me on my toes.

How is this possible? I go to ask him, but I’m robbed of all ability to form words. “Deano.” Just the sound of his voice, even though he’s never stopped speaking to me, leaves me wrecked.

The familiar ache I felt when I heard he’d died kicks back in my chest. “Why are you not dead?”

His face drops when I sound disappointed. I’m not, or I don’tmean to be. But I’d just about buried him mentally. Just about let him go and come around to the idea that I’d actually lost him.

Anger burns my insides like hot coals. Why wouldn’t he tell me he was alive and still fucking kicking? He could have called. Sent a message. Anything. He could have done anything to let me know. But he didn’t.

Jack pulls at his jumper, readjusting himself. Nerves? He then draws in a long breath, steadying himself. “I owe you an explanation.”

He’s got a fucking nerve. “An explanation? You owe me more than an explanation. Try starting with an apology.”

His head drops. “I couldn’t tell you,” he says hesitantly.

I massage the back of my neck with my good hand. “Couldn’t tell me you weren’t dead?” I can’t believe he’s sat here. My jaw locks, my teeth grind so hard against each other. “You’re not sorry then?”

There’s a pause. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner.” He looks up at me, gaping holes replacing his pupils. “But I won’t apologise for it.”

I shake my head, torn. Something’s different. Off. Something out of sorts. He’s sorry but he won’t apologise for it? “How’ve you managed to clear this entire room to sit down with me?”

I’d almost forgotten about The Saint wanting me dead.

Jack leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “You’re in shock, but we have a lot to discuss.”

Formal. That’s what’s different. He’s direct. A man on a mission. Where’s my carefree, take no shit brother? I guess a part of him really did die back in Oz. My mind torments me with the memory. “Mads is pregnant,” I tell him.

He flinches.

“So yeah, we may have a lot to discuss, but I’ll never see my family again. Forgive me if I’m not somersaulting with joy.”

He leans forward with purpose. I frown, my guard still up. “What if I could ensure you saw her again?”

A twisted smile pulls my lips to my cheeks, a dreaded pang of misery jolting me. “You’re too late.” I won’t make the night. My heart skips a beat, and I will it to stay in control.

“No. I’m right on time.”

My head snaps up. “How?”

“The hows can wait, just know things have been taken care of.” He ends the conversation bluntly with no room for negotiation.

I can’t wrap my head around what he’s trying to tell me, but flashes of my uncle reflect through his eyes. “Does Ronnie know you’re alive?”

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