“We grew up together, kid.” Carlo takes two steps back and leans against the wall. He crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. A sad chuckle huffs from his mouth. “If I’d stayed around, your dad wouldn’t have got near her.”
Then I would never have been born. Sounds good to me.I can’t stop myself wondering what it would have been like if Mum ended up with Carlo instead of Dad. Would she have been happy? Would they still be stuck here in Harrison Vale? The questions are as pointless as their fictional answers. We can’t change the past.
“Well, it’s nice reminiscing and all, but I need to get my shit,right?” I turn toward the office.
“I swear to God, Jules. You’ll ruin my reputation,” Carlo complains behind me.
“Wh—?” I spin to face him. I can’t tell what he means without reading his expression.
“Why were you late? You said something about the night you’ve just had, what did you mean?” he grumbles, standing to full height and dusting his jeans off with heavy-handed slaps to his sides.
I don’t know what happens. Maybe it’s the fact that he takes the time to ask, but my fight—no—my resolve abandons me. If my determination is a woven cloth, then someone pulls all my threads at once. I unravel in front of Carlo.
I hold up my hands, turning them palm up so that Carlo can see the dry blood caked in every crease of my skin. For a split second his gaze catches on my watch, his lips pulling into a frown, and then it’s like a bulb goes off and his face drains of colour as he finally understands what I’m showing him.
“What happened?”
“A man got shot. I tried to help, I really did, but he wouldn’t wake up and they took him away.” The corridor rocks back and forth, over and over, until Carlo places his hands on either side of my cheeks and holds me still. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“It’s okay,” he murmurs softly.
“I came to work even though I knew you’d kick me out.”
“It’s okay, Jules.”
“I came here even though you don’t want me around. I have nobody.”
His thumbs trace the hollows under each eye as I stare at the undulating plaid of his blurred shirt. When he pulls his thumbs away, they’re wet.
“Are you hurt?” he asks, words slow but firm.
“What?”
“Are you hurt? Did you see the incident? Are you in anydanger?” This time he rattles the questions off quickly, barely giving me time to process them.
“No. No…he was on the stairs. I found him. But it happened fast…Someone came and went…Someone shot him when I was hiding.”
“I’m not sure what you’re telling me, Jules.” His furrowed brows shadow his eyes, but he keeps them trained on my face. “There is blood on your hands. Is it yours, yes, or no?”
“No.”
“Good. That’s good. Come with me.” One large arm wraps around my shoulders and steers me to his office. I recognise nothing, even though I’ve seen the office a thousand times before. Carlo walks around the room. I focus on him, trying to steady my thoughts. He swims into focus when he sits on the edge of the sofa beside me and hands me a glass. I don’t recall sitting down.
“Drink. It’ll help.”
I sip at the amber liquid. Relishing how it scorches as it slips, like silk and fire, down my throat. The burn brings me back and anchors me.
“Sorry.”
He shakes his head and rolls his lips into a tight frown. “Don’t apologise. I should have noticed the blood.”
His comment draws my attention to my fingers and the glass. Red fingerprints smear the rim and circle the base. “I’m ruining your glass.”
“It can be washed,” he dismisses, holding out his hand. “Eat this.” The familiar rustle of a candy wrapper reveals his intention. He’s being too nice. I don’t want his candy or his fake concern.
“I’m okay. I’ll go now.”
“You’re shaking. You’re in shock. Eat the damn candy bar, Jules. The sugar will help.” Ripping open the bright red wrapper, he hands me the candy. I nibble at first, my stomach sickened by the thought of putting anything substantial inside, but I’m hungrier than I thought, because I finish the bar in minutes. With my cheeksstuffed and my jaw working on the toffee, I offer Carlo a small smile of thanks.
