Read Survival (Twisted Book 1) Online

Authors: Rebecca Sherwin

Survival (Twisted Book 1) (20 page)

“Nothing. I saw Dad when I went home looking for you. He said he’d call, but he hasn’t.”

“And Mum?”

“Nothing.”

“That sucks.”

Deep down, I hoped they would have tried to find us. They were the only ones who had wrongs to right.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” I nodded. “Will you stay for a while?”

“I’m not going anywhere.
Never again.”

“I just don’t get it. We had everything. There was nothing we couldn’t talk about.”

She bowed her head but I couldn’t stop.

“For years,
years,
I thought it was me. I thought I’d done something to make everyone leave. You and Oliver and I were best friends, the three musketeers, and you left us. Both of us.”

The cold began to chill my bones and I shivered, but the anger didn’t stop. I was supposed to be listening, not talking, but the pent up anger, and hurt and fear flowed from my lips venomously.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and paced back and forth in front of the bench. Beth just watched.

“Do you have any idea how it felt?”
I didn’t look for her reaction, keeping my eyes on the ground and kicking up the dirt. “Do you know how much I had to fight, just to kill the urge to give up?” I looked at her then, as her sorrowful eyes met mine. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. Just don’t think you can turn up here, call yourself a coward and everything will snap back into place.”

“I’m just asking for a second chance.”

“I can give you that. But I’m no longer the poor hungry teenager you left behind.”

 

***

Beth was a self-employed estate agent. She owned her own company and had invested enough money into shares programs so that, at thirty one, she could retire and never have to worry. And she could cook. Nina sent over some stuff for me to archive on my week off, so while I locked myself in Thomas’ office to pull apart PDFs, Beth cooked an amazing beef stroganoff.

Thomas came home to dinner on the table. I loved gym days; he did enough cardio to burn off the midnight snacks he tried keep secret, and lifted enough weights to stay…buff. I loved to try and get both hands around his biceps when he came in, but I substituted it for a subtle squeeze with Beth being present.

“Ever thought about being a chef?” Thomas asked as he tucked in.

“Jack eats a lot. I had to learn to cook to snag him,” she twisted her ring around her finger. “How did you two meet?”

“Margarita Monday.”
We said with a shared look of gratitude.

“What?”

“He pulled a rose from behind my ear in Jose’s alleyway and I’ve been his ever since.”

“Skye can't turn down a magic trick,” she chuckled and leaned on her elbows. “You know, when we were kids, Skye was obsessed with magic. She begged Mum and Dad to take
her to see a show and was ready to kick the illusionist’s butt when he pulled out the saw and attempted to cut his assistant in half.”

“I know,” Thomas shrugged and squeezed my knee under the table. I’d told him that story before; it was a fond childhood memory, but as his hand moved higher, neither of us
were thinking about
that
magic trick.

“You’re cute together.”

We turned and smiled at each other, like we did every time someone said that. We just fit. It was one of the most beautiful things about our relationship. He was hot – I know, I was biased. And I was…curvy. But we fit like a jigsaw. We rarely got looks from strangers that wondered why one of us was with the other. Not that it mattered; he was my caveman no matter what anyone else thought.

We finished dinner and Thomas and I washed the dishes before we all retired to the lounge to finish
our second bottle of wine.

“Why don’t you ask Jack over for dinner Friday night, Beth?” Thomas suggested as he stroked the back of my neck.

Good idea.

“It would be nice to meet him.”

“It isn’t too soon?” She asked and we immediately shook our heads.

“Jump in at the deep end.”

“Thank you.”

I wasn’t sure if I trusted her. It was something that would be built with time. And that’s what we had. It took me a while to let people in, but I had to forgive he
r and I had to try and forget, for Oliver, if not for myself. He loved us both and we owed it to him to try and repair what had been broken.

Thirty Eight

It was kind of how I imagined I’d act if I ever went bungee jumping…Just close your eyes, take a deep breath and jump.

October 21
st
, 2010.

 

Thomas and I had wrapped up warm and taken Buster for a late night walk, heading straight to bed when we got back. We climbed under the duvet and I laid on my back as Thomas laid on his side, propped his head up with his elbow and ran his fingertips up and down my stomach with his other hand.

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being you,” I brushed his hair back from his forehead. “I never thank you for everything you do for me.”

“I do it because I want to. I want the best for you…I want you to be happy.”

“I know,” I stopped and thought for a minute. “I can talk to you about anything right? And know that it won't change the way you feel about me?”

“Always.”

Not one witty thought entered my mind as I tried to plan what to say. I was terrified. Remember the crossroads? I was there again, only this time I had no choice; one way was blocked. If I chose that path, our relationship was over. I had to choose the open path – the one with no road signs; the one that gave no hint of where it led. I jumped with a silent scream because I didn’t know if Thomas would catch me or let me fall.

“I-” I stopped and choked on the nerves as the tears filled my eyes. I was close, so close, to regressing and pushing him away.

He parted his lips as his panic matched mine.

“What’s going on?”

“I want…I think I want a baby.”

He let out a gush of air and collapsed back on the bed. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. That was it. It had to be over.

“That’s what you’ve wanted to talk about for weeks?”

“Weeks?”

“You’ve been sitting on this for a while.”

I slid away from him as his eyes opened. They were glassed over; he was emotional. It was about to happen…the “I can't have a baby with you” confession. What had I done?

“It isn’t an impulsive thing,” I answered defensively and cleared my throat. My voice was failing with my gumption. “I’m sorry.”

“Baby,” I flinched as he reached for me and pulled me into him. “I thought you didn’t want children.”

“I don’t…I want children with you.”

He turned his head so his face was so close, his warm breath tickled my lips, travelled over my cheeks and swept down my neck.

I shivered, “It’s okay that you don’t want them with me. But we need to talk. Our honesty is the most important thing to me.”

“I love you so much,” he smiled and shook his head. “Having kids isn’t a bad thing.”

“It’s not?”

He sat up against the headboard and I rested my head on his lap, shifting so I could look up at him.

“No.”

“But my parents. They – well, they…” I trailed off. I couldn’t say it.

“You think I don’t want a family with you because of your parents?” I nodded.
“You crazy, crazy woman. I haven’t even thought about that.”

“You haven’t?”

My nerves were slowly easing. I thought he’d written me off like all the others had. I could tell by that tender, cautious look in his eye that he hadn’t.

“No. I've never been a parent either. I don’t know how it works. We’ll learn together.”

“Okay,” My brain switched into rewind. “Wait, what?”

“Let’s start a family.”

My mouth fell open. I didn’t try to disguise my shock. My heart raced. My hands squeezed into fists as Thomas resumed his pattern on my stomach and then pressed his hand over my bellybutton.

“Okay…Let’s start a family.”

Every aspect, every area of my life had been a constant battle. I was expecting a fight; to have to give up every ounce of dignity I had to try and convince Thomas that I wouldn’t make an awful mother. I didn’t know what kind of mother I would make, but I knew I would fight for our family and love it with all my heart.

Thomas, a father.
Me, a mother. A little baby that needed patience and milk at ungodly hours. A toddler that would require more patience while it threw tantrums worse than any PMSing she-beast, but would give the best cuddles in the world.

I didn’t know what kind of team we’d be, but we’d be one full of love, fight and goofball Kodak moments.

***

Beth was nervous. She’d painted her nails just so she could pick it off and I was
damn near growing a hernia trying to contain the urge to pry her hands apart.

Why was she nervous? How much of a villain had she made herself out to be? Or did she actually play the victim? I guessed she was both; we both were. I could have tracked her down. I could have made more of an effort. I shut my friends out; maybe I did the same to Beth and made her feel like the bad guy. But it wouldn’t do either of us good dwelling on it – we were different people than we were back then.
The past, no matter how much it still hurt, had to be archived and locked in that little box labelled ‘history’.

To hell with it; we were going to enjoy her night.

“Pick a band, any band,” I called from the lounge. Beth was in the kitchen preparing dinner and I was standing in front of Thomas’ dock. The day after his party, we’d taken forever transferring his horde of music CDs to his iPod.

“Bon Jovi.”

Good choice, sister. I hit shuffle on Bon Jovi and good ol’ Jon blasted through the speakers as I danced my way back to the kitchen. Thomas and I danced all the time. Like idiots, I might add. That much was clear when I saw the shock and shame on Beth’s face. Yes, I had about as much rhythm as a one-legged. Still, I danced; banging my head, playing my air guitar and singing, “It’s my life, it’s now or never!”

Beth shook her head, but I saw her tapping her foot and chopping carrots to the beat as I jumped around the breakfast bar. My hair was a tangled mess as it swung from side to side.

“Come on, Beth!”

She looked over her shoulder as she began wiggling her hips and then she spun around and belted the chorus with me, throwing her tea towel in the air and jumping on the spot like she was on a pogo stick. The song finished and we threw our arms around each other. Music made everything better.
Music or dancing. Dancing like an idiot. That might have been it…but the tension had gone and the nervousness had crawled back into the hole it had escaped from. And Beth still shook her butt as she went back to preparing vegetables.

I turned around to find Thomas standing in the doorway with his arms, those arms, folded.

“How long have you been there?”

He pulled out his air guitar and bent backwards, throwing his head back as he played.

“That long, huh?” I stepped into his arms and we danced together.

“Long enough to record it,” he wiggled his eyebrows, those eyebrows, and pulled out his phone to record us.

I kissed him on the cheek and we sang a few lines together.

Thomas continued recording as I threw my hands in the air and danced next to Beth.

“Put that thing away and go and shower.”

He shoved his phone in his pocket, but instead of leaving the room he chased me around the island, caught me and threw me over his shoulder.

“Shower time,” he shrugged as Beth laughed, then smacked my ass and carried me up the stairs.

 

Dinner was ready when we got back downstairs and I gave Beth an apologetic look. We were used to not having to think about anyone else. She waved her hand in dismissal and handed us a glass of wine.

“Thanks,” Thomas walked around the kitchen with his nose in the air. Exactly like Buster was doing at the same time. “What’s cooking?”

“Roast pork,” Beth swatted him away. “And no, you can't taste it until it’s on your plate in front of you.”

“She’s figured me out,” he threw his arm over her shoulders and sniffed some more.

Was it possible that everything was going to be okay? Thomas and Beth got on like they’d known each other for longer than three days. If I didn’t have him, I wouldn’t even have let her in. She may never have found me; I’m sure whatever came up on Google that included my name had something to do with Thomas. It was kind of funny, that I believed in fate. Being with him showed me, without a doubt, that it existed. I’d found it. Fate personified in Thomas Radley.

The doorbell rang and Buster barked and scurried to the door, ready to protect. Thomas and Beth stopped nodding their heads to the music and Beth looked at me.

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