Page 95 of Cruel Embers
“It just hurts,” I say, pulling back. “I’ve never felt like this before.”
Ethan gives me a look of understanding but doesn’t say anything in response. He just nudges his head towards the stairs and gestures for me to go first.
I find Char setting the table, and her brow wrinkles as I enter the kitchen.
Her eyes assess my face, but she just gives me a warm smile instead of asking if I’m okay.
“Bangers and mash,” she says.
She’s made one of my go-to comfort foods. She’s going to make such a fantastic mum.
“Thank you.”
“Go on. You two sit down. I’ll dish up,” Ethan says. Char and I both take a seat at the table.
“Do you want to watch re-runs of Buffy after dinner?” she asks.
I smile. I can’t remember the last time we chilled out in front of the TV. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
Ethan keeps the conversation light as we all eat. I can barely manage two sausages and a few forkfuls of mash before I push my plate away.
Charlotte looks at my leftovers and then at me but doesn’t comment. She knows how my loss of appetite is attached to my emotions. After Max died, I could barely keep food down without the urge to vomit.
I grab the painkillers and swallow them down with the fresh orange juice and then shudder, the taste tart.
“Yeah, it's a little bitter,” Char says pulling her cheeks in after she takes a sip of her own.
When Charlotte and Ethan finish eating, I get up and start stacking their plates, only to be admonished by Ethan, who dutifully tells us to go do one and that he’ll sort it out.
Grabbing a huge throw, Char sits down, which I now know to be her favourite spot on the couch, and holds it up for me to join her. She leans her head on my shoulder.
“How are you feeling?” she asks, pointing the remote to the screen and scrolling through the channels until she finds the one she wants.
“Shit,” I reply honestly—no point in lying. “I have this overwhelming urge to text him or call. But I don’t have the energy.” Or the heart. I know he cares, and he thinks this is the right thing to do, but if anything, all it's done is made me feel rejected.
I’ll give him time, but whether I want to set myself up to get hurt again is another matter.
ChapterForty-Eight
NATHAN
It’s been over a week, and everything that happened has completely consumed me. I’m even aware my behaviour, for the most part, has been selfish. I haven’t even messaged her to ask if she’s okay. Instead, I’ve been asking Ethan and Lottie.
Violet returned home after two nights, as she had more rehearsals this week. I knew there was no way in hell she’d miss them. At least it comforts me, knowing Wayne will be back at the flat. Granted, I was a little apprehensive about him at first. Okay, fine, I was jealous. He’s a good-looking guy, and so is his boyfriend, as it would seem, and they are besotted with one another.
But that's not the point. I trust Violet, she’s nothing like Naomi and never will be, and I know by keeping my distance I’m punishing us both. But I don’t know if I’m ready to face this, the guilt of knowing I made her bleed is too much.
I’ve hardly slept and even went so far as to call in sick. I never call in sick, not ever.
Not even after an all-nighter.
This is nothing like a heavy all-night drinking session, though, and I know I have some work to do to fix it.
She’s one of a kind.
Everything I want and more.
I keep typing out texts and deleting them like my words don’t hold any merit, only my actions, but even that has me in a quandary.
