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She raises and eyebrow at my reaction. “Shit, Dylan. Calm down. I was looking for some spare towels.”
What do I say? No one else knows about the pills. I go to different doctors every time; they give me different shit depending on how bad I am. I’m taking meds but have no idea which tablet does what anymore, but if I take enough, they work.
“I have trouble sleeping,” I say.
“The ones I saw are for anxiety, Dylan.”
“Okay, I have difficulty sleeping because I’m fucking anxious.”
Myf holds both palms over her delicate features and studies me, then drops her hand to touch mine.
“What happened?” she asks.
“Which bit?” I ask gruffly. She’s pissed me off now, delving too far into the hidden.
“With Sky.”
Since the day Sky left, I haven’t told anyone outside of Jem and Steve why. Letting people think I’d got bored of her was easier than raking through the shit again. Because I’d poured everything out to Myf that night at the party, there’s no way she’d believe Sky meant nothing.
I turn and lean against the granite counter, gripping the edges until the cool stone bites into my hands. “Lily.”
Myf straightens. “What do you mean ‘Lily’?”
“She spoke to Sky.”
So many more words fight to escape, but I don’t want to let out the frustration and anger I know will come with them.
“And I suppose she lied again?” Myf’s lips thin.
“She told Sky that I raped her.”
The words are out. I squeeze my eyes closed, swallowing down everything else. Lily. Jem. Sky. The whole fucking mess.
“You told Sky the truth, right?” I don’t respond. “Dylan?”
Taking a shaky breath, I open my eyes. “What would be the point?”
“Umm, that you didn’t rape her? Fuck, Dylan! Why didn’t you tell that to Sky?”
“Because I feel like I did something wrong.”
“No. That’s bullshit and you know that. You didn’t touch her that night.”
“Not that night.”
Myf rubs her temples. “I know this is complicated and I don’t know everything that happened between the three of you, but I sure as hell know you didn’t rape her. This is Lily’s sick revenge on you, accusing you of something you didn’t do!”
“Myf, I just had a long flight and a fucking long four months. I don’t want to get into this now.”
She grabs my arm as I turn to leave. “You didn’t even fight for Sky?”
“What’s the point?” I shrug her off.
We face off; Myf’s small figure drawn up to her full height, but she’s still a foot shorter than I am so the stern look is amusing rather than threatening. The concern glistening in her eyes disturbs me, as the truths I need to face spill between us. I shift my gaze to pristine white kitchen walls, if I keep looking at Myf she’ll pull more out of me.
“Dylan. I think…”
I hold a hand up to indicate she needs to stop talking and she huffs, stepping back and crossing her arms over her chest. A door slams at the opposite end of the apartment as Miles’s arrival home saves me from a Myf lecture.
I leave for my bedroom before Miles appears; I don’t feel like chatting. My half-packed black rucksack lies on the floor, dirty clothes strewn across the spotless cream carpet. The room is gleaming clean, neat and everything in its carefully organised place. If only my life could be the same.
Why didn’t I fight for Sky? I’ve asked myself the question over and over, and at the heart of why is fear. A fear of resurrecting the past I deny and pulling myself back down.
I’m scared of seeing hatred in the eyes of the girl who believed in the person I could be.
On the day when Sky discovered who I really was in Broadbeach, the Dylan she met was wiped away and replaced by a different man.
But the real Dylan Morgan isn’t who she met in Broadbeach, or the person she accepted into her life afterward.
