The next morning when I wake I really am alone, but only for about ten minutes until my mum and dad enter and fawn all over me.
“You’ve come to take me home?”
“We have,” my mum tells me, fussing.
“I’m going back to my place,” I emphasise.
My mum opens her mouth to say something, but my dad steps in. “Yes, if that’s what you want?” I nod. “You know you’re always welcome home, baby,” he offers, and a glisten of emotion coats my eyes before I blink it away and nod in reply.
“Thanks, Dad,” I whisper. He squeezes my hand as my mum continues gathering my belongings. “Love you both,” I tell them and my mum comes over and cuddles me.
“Love you too, my baby,” she murmurs into my hair, while Dad mouths I love you to me.
“What the actual fuck?” Helena shouts, slamming her bag down on the armchair. “I go away for one bloody weekend, and all hell breaks loose!”
“It’s fine, everything’s fine,” I soothe, patting the seat next to me. She sits down and turns around to face me crossing her legs like we’re still in primary school.
“Well, you look okay,” she decides, moving to look at the side of me.
“I’m fine. It’s going to be a couple of days until the bandage can come off my hand, and I’ll need to have the stitches out in about ten days, but I feel okay,” I tell her.
“What about work?” she asks, and I shrug.
“I guess I’ll wear gloves for a bit.” I wink.
She doesn’t look convinced, but she also doesn’t say anything further about it. “Right, well, you with that gammy hand—”
“My hand is not gammy!” I splutter.
“Whatever.” She shrugs. “You’re not going to be able to cook. I’m making pasta, you want some?”
“Please.” I smile fluttering my eyelashes for effect. Helena shakes her head and gets up to make us dinner.
Picking up my phone I toy with it. I desperately want to call Isaac, but what would I say?
Hi, I’m okay.
The hospital was boring.
I’m going back to work now.
We have so much to catch up on.
What happened to you over the last five years?
Yeah, definitely not the last one.
Puffing out a breath I sink back into the corner of the sofa deciding not to text him. My life was easier before Isaac came back, but at the same time, I can’t deny that I’m glad he’s here. A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts.
“Oi, sunshine, no lazing about, we have company,” Helena shouts from the hall then Holly appears in the doorway.
“Hey, Hol’s,” I greet. Her face is slightly red as she blows a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Whatcha got there?” My questioning gaze lingers on the mini suitcase she has at her feet.
“You, get a chair, I’m doing your extensions,” she answers pointing at me.
I can’t help the smile that erupts. I was supposed to call her to set up an appointment, but with everything that’s happened, it keeps getting pushed into the background. “Cool,” I whisper and rise from the sofa to get a chair.
“What do you think?”
“It looks bloody amazing,” I say twirling like a kid in front of my full-length mirror. Holly’s been working on my hair for hours, but I now have a platinum blonde mane down to my waist, making my tats stand out more. It looks incredible, and I feel great. I’m honestly over the moon.
“I’m so damn good,” Holly replies taking a little bow.
Snorting at her, I smile and grab her around the waist. She squeals as I squeeze tight, trying to pick her up. My hair looks amazing, and I’m not even thinking about the fact that Isaac prefers my hair long.
Not even a little.
Not at all.
ISAAC
“You want to explain that shit with Via to me?”
Toby shrugs his shoulders and looks away from my stare.
“Really slowly, so I can be sure to understand your fucked-up reasoning which led to her being in the hospital.”
I watch as a muscle jumps in his jaw. Good. I’m pissing him off, that might mean I’ll get the damn truth.
“I didn’t mean that shit,” he bites back turning his angry eyes to me.
I tilt my head and raise an eyebrow. “That doesn’t mean it wasn’t your fault.”
“Fuck you, Isaac!” he snaps.
I move faster than he’s used to, and he startles as I pin him to the wall with my forearm. “Listen, I don’t know what the fuck you’re playing at with Via, but she’s—”
“What? She’s yours?” he chokes out, pushing my arm away from his throat. I take a step back more affected by his statement than I expect. “When was she yours? When you were actually in prison for that first year and didn’t answer her constant pleas? When you ignored her for another four fucking years after you got out? When you lied to her time and time again?” He shoves my shoulder, his anger thickening the air around us. “What about when you came back here and flaunted Shelly in her face?”
“That’s just a front, and you know it,” I snarl at him.
He leans into me, his nose a mere inch from mine, and if he wasn’t my brother, he’d be dead already.
“But she doesn’t.”
He pulls back, and we stare at each other panting hard as our emotions get the better of us both. It’s strange for me, I don’t operate on feelings. I haven’t done for years, not since I let her go. My shoulders slump, he’s only telling me what I already know,
