Page 62 of Beautiful Scars

For now, he moves his hand away and steps back. He looks from me, to Meisie, and back to me again, before spinning on his heels and going back to the desk.

I want to get her away from this. From him. Take her back to her fort. Tell her that this was a mistake. But I’m too far into it now. If I take her away now, whatever suspicions he has about the aforementioned puzzle pieces will just be confirmed.

He flips open the MacBook and spins it around.

“Exhibit fucking A.”

I glance down at her and try to read Meisie’s expression. She’s watching Cole like he’s a venomous snake and she’s a little mouse. Good girl.

Cole continues. “Recognize the car? This was where we made it look like you took a load of drugs and crashed it into a ditch--but not before injuring someone. Those same drugs your mum is legalizing. Do you think she cared?”

When she doesn’t answer he spins the laptop back to face him and hits a few keys with fast fingers. I already know what’s coming before he spins it around, due to the massive fucking smirk on his face.

“Exhibit B. This was when we—correction. Not we. Nah, this one was all my brother’s idea.”

I’ll explain it to her later. I’ll explain to her those photos were genuinely the kinder option. At least, I fucking thought it was.

I grab Meisie. “Right let’s go—“

“Eh, hold on,” Cole says, standing up from the desk. “We didn’t even get to the best part, did we? The backstory. The part where we told mother dearest that we were punting her out to anyone with a twenty-pound note. The part where her own mother didn’t care. The part where—“

“That’s plenty, Cole.”

He leans his hands on the desk and smiles. “You can’t take her away now. We have a wedding to plan. Sarah wants to know colors for the bridesmaids, don’t you darlin’?”

I let out a sigh. “Green.”

And then I scoop her into my arms, leaving my brother grinning like the Cheshire fucking Cat.

* * *

Yes, I said I would explain.

No, it didn’t feel like the right time.

And for the first time in my life I’m contemplating feeling like a piece of shit. I’ve always known I was one. Never doubted that. But right now I’m close to letting myself feel like one.

I left her there on the bed without a backward glance, and came back up the stairs to deal with Cole. He wasn’t nearly as annoying without Meisie in the room. After that was done, I didn’t have any excuse for avoiding her.

I should go down there and explain.

But instead I’m sitting in the kitchen counting toast crumbs.

She needs time, that’s my excuse. Time to think. Time to contemplate. Time to be alone. I’ve had thirty years to come to grips with the fact my mother doesn’t give a fuck. She’s had six hours.

I’ll give her some more time. That’s the gentlemanly thing to do.

I’ll let her sleep on it. I’ll sleep on it, just as soon as I’ve bored myself senseless with counting fucking crumbs.

A noise comes from behind me, giving me the fright of my life because Cole left hours ago.

But it’s not Cole. It’s a blond head and a mousey face, and it’s wearing tartan pajamas. Sarah.

“Fuck are you doing here?”

She doesn’t even glance in my direction as she crosses the kitchen. “Making supper.”

Do they think this is some kind of hotel I’m running? Twenty-four-hour all you can eat buffet and en-suite sex dungeon? “You do realize Cole has his own flat, right?”