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“Yeah, they’re good.” I bite on my lip, my head dropping as tears well. I miss them so much.
“You are loved, Lissy. You do know that, right?” she blurts out, clutching me by the shoulders.
I nod tightly. “I do.”
“Good, then that’s what matters the most.” She grins, her face lighting up with happiness as she looks at Eastern over my shoulder. He traverses the table and pulls Tracy into his arms, holding her against the broad expanse of his chest. He’s a whole head taller than her now and because she’s so slim, she kind of disappears into his hold. “Love you, mum.”
“Love you too,” she replies, her voice choking. “Oh, did you get it?” she says after a beat.
“Get what?” I respond, looking between them both.
Eastern nods. “Of course I did. Let me grab it.” He leaves the room briefly, returning with a bright red gift bag. “Matches your new hair colour,” he observes.
He’s right it does. I dyed my hair the day after leaving Oceanside for the Christmas break. New hair, new me, or some shit like that. Maybe I just like the colour.
“Take it,” he insists, offering the giftbag to me.
“You didn’t have to get me anything…”
“Yes we did. You turned seventeen last week; now you’re as old as I am. We can get into clubs legitimately now…”
My eyebrows pull together in a frown. “You generally need to beeighteento get into most clubs, Eastern.”
“What I meant was we can get into the clubs because we actually look eighteen. Hell, I even look twenty-one,” he says, flexing his arm muscles. Embarrassingly, my mouth goes dry and my skin flushes at the sight of his toned arms. Though I hide my appreciation well.
“Bighead.” I roll my eyes and curse him out, as is customary when his ego inflates enough to fill the room.Of coursehe looks incredible. I know that, and he most definitely knows that. Eastern is handsome with his swathe of perfectly styled dark hair, cut short at the sides and long on top. His brown eyes are so rich you’d happily pay to stare into them. Eastern’s growing into himself, if you know what I mean. That short time in juvie made him grow up fast both physically and emotionally. He’s still the same Eastern I’ve always known, but there’s a weariness within him that just wasn’t there before and quite a few bulging muscles too. Pretty sure he spent most days away working out.
“There’ll be no clubbing, or doing anythingillegal,” Tracy says sternly. “Keep out of trouble, okay?”
“Promise,” we agree simultaneously, both knowing that we’re going to break that promise sooner or later. Trouble isn’t something either of us can avoid. It seeks us out then grapples us to the ground until we admit defeat or fight until we can’t anymore. I catch Eastern’s eye and he shuts down the emotions I know he’s feeling with heading back to Oceanside given what I agreed to do, and what he had to do to get a place there.
“Good, because I really can’t face either of you going to prison.” Her eyes well up with tears and she shakes her head, sniffling a little as she wipes them away. “I’m sorry…”
“Don’t, Mum. It’s okay,” Eastern says as they exchange looks. Hers is filled with shame and love, his with fierce loyalty and forgiveness. But I know Eastern better than he knows himself. He might have already forgiven his mum for everything she’d ignored, but that doesn’t mean to say it didn’t hurt that she did, that it doesn’t still hurt. There’s no denying the fact that Tracy turned a blind eye to his drug running. It might have only been Mary-J in the beginning, but it soon escalated into the harder stuff. She knew what he did and pretended she didn’t so that the money he earned could be used to take care of Braydon’s needs. It’s quite a cross to bear, for the both of them. Don’t get me wrong. I love Tracy unconditionally. So too does Eastern. But that doesn’t detract from the fact that she should’ve steered him in another direction before now. She should’ve stopped him. Circumstance had given them both an impossible choice.
“I’m sorry, love,” she repeats, more quietly this time.
Eastern shakes his head roughly, though his voice is gentle. “No apologies, Mum.”
He gives Tracy an easy smile, papering over the cracks with his grin. There is a conversation they need to have, but I’m guessing now’s not the time. He turns back to face me, giving me all his attention.
“I’m sorry it’s a bit late,” he says, finally handing me the gift bag, which he’s been clutching tightly in his hand, before pressing a kiss against my cheek. It’s just a quick peck, but it makes my skin flush anyway. If Tracy notices my reaction, she doesn’t let on.
“You’ve been busy helping Tracy with the move and I’ve been busy with Sebastian and George over Christmas break. It’s no big deal.”
“So the little rugrats are good then, yeah?” Eastern asks, fondly.
“Yeah, they’re happy,” I say. I’m glad they’re being looked after so well by their foster family, but it kills me that their happiness is a direct result of someone else’s care. It should bemelooking after them. I’m their big sister. I’m more than capable at seventeen than my mum ever was during her ‘sober’ periods when the authorities returned us to her care. It’s complete bullshit social services won’t let me look after my brothers now just because I’m still classified as a ‘minor’. I’d bet my soul that most people haven’t lived through half the things I have in my life and yet I’m still deemed incapable of looking after my own flesh and blood because of my age.
“They had a great Christmas. The move to Hull has been good for them. They’re doing well, they’resafe,” I say, emphasising the fact. Eastern captures my gaze and nods in understanding. After we made the deal with Crown, I’d made sure that my brothers were protected too. Spending all my time with them over the break has been amazing, but I can’t deny how much I missed Eastern. Being around him now makes my heart swell with both love and fear. There’s so much I need to tell him.
“Yeah? That’s good, Alicia. I’m glad they’re okay.”
I smirk. “Asia, arsehole.”
“Asia,” he repeats with a roll of his eyes, “Open the damn present.”
“Yes, open it!” Tracy says excitedly. She’s practically hopping on her feet now.
