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‘We—we had an accident.’ I lift my hand to my scar, a second’s touch that’s almost a subconscious gesture.
‘What kind of accident?’
My stomach lurches, my knuckles glowing white as I grip the steering wheel with both hands once more and sense her eyes fall to my fists, sense her compassion building. Compassion that I don’t deserve. And I can’t say it. Car accident. Two simple words that are too crushing to say out loud.
Because it was my fault. All my fault.
‘Valentine?’
Her voice is so quiet in the car. Or is it that my thoughts are raging so loud they drown her out?
‘Yes.’ It vibrates out of me, through the tension, the pain, the guilt.
‘It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me, not if you don’t want to.’
‘It’s not a question of want; it’s more...’ I break off. It’s what? I don’t know. The only person I’ve spoken to is Alan; not even the counsellors he tried to get me to see could make me open up. But Alan did and, although I found some peace through him, I’ll never be entirely absolved of the guilt. That’s on me.
She reaches across the car, her palm soft on my thigh. ‘How long were you together?’
She’s talking around it, encouraging happier memories and as my eyes flick to her and I feel the warmth of her palm permeate my skin a small smile touches my lips.
‘Seven years...’ I lower my hand to cover hers. ‘She was the one that pulled me out of the rut when my football career was over. My friends were great but when they’re all footballers too...’ I shrug. ‘My parents tried but you know how it is at that age.’
‘Hell, yeah.’ She laughs softly.
‘Exactly.’
She squeezes my thigh. ‘Sounds like you were very lucky to meet her when you did.’
A warm sense of nostalgia spreads in my chest, softens my voice. ‘I was.’
‘What was she like?’
‘Blonde, curvy, a big smile.’
‘Is that all you men think about? Appearances?’ Her thigh squeeze is more punishing now. ‘You know that’s not what I meant.’
‘No. I know.’ I think about it. ‘She was kind. Warm-hearted. Fun. She not only put up with my crazy antics, she was often the instigator of them. We were...how did Adele put it? Wild. Together. The perfect pair.’
I laugh but it’s awkward as the chill starts to creep back in. The thought that always accompanies the memory taking over, that if we hadn’t been so crazy, so fun-loving, maybe she’d still be here now.
‘But then you changed?’
‘Yes.’ It’s as though she’s in my head, going down the same path as my thoughts. ‘I realised life wasn’t to be played around with. If I’d taken it more seriously, if we’d taken it more seriously, maybe she’d still be here now.’
I take my hand from hers, focus on driving and ignore the question that still persists, weighing heavy in the renewed silence:What happened?
Hell, all she needs to do is carry out an internet search and she’ll have all the answers she seeks. But something tells me she’s not the type. Bruised enough by the media herself, she knows better than to use it to research others.
And for now I’ve opened up enough and though she’s quiet once more I sense it’s gone some way to heal the wound I put there. Or is that more wishful thinking on my part?
I don’t know, but as I pull into the underground car park to my apartment building and park up in the private section that serves my penthouse suite, I’ve never been more relieved to be getting out from behind the wheel again.
‘Is that why Alan brought you in?’
Olivia
I watch as Valentine closes the car door and looks at me over the roof. I know my question has surprised him; I see it in the slight flare to his eyes, and the crease between his brows that quickly follows.
