Bastard(64)

I open the trunk of my car and place my suitcase and backpack inside. My heart is so heavy as I move around to the driver’s door.

“Carter, please don’t go. Don’t leave me,” I hear her cry from behind me. Christ. She’s come outside. I don’t turn around. I can’t. I wish I could stay. Better still, I wish I could take her with me, but that’s not an option.

Ignoring her, I open the door and climb in. Tears cloud my eyes. I didn’t think this would be so hard. I turn the key in the ignition and back out of the driveway. My eyes betray me as I take one last look at the kid. The kid that stole my heart. The kid that managed to penetrate my darkness, and for the briefest of moments showed me what it was like to have light in my heart again. Fuck I’m going to miss her and her smart mouth.

She needs to forget me. I swear I literally feel my heart shatter into a million pieces as I watch her standing there. Her arms wrapped around her tiny body. Tears are streaming down her beautiful face. It takes every bit of strength I have not to go to her.

There’s so much I want to say to her. So much. So much I want to thank her for. But, instead I do what I need to do to help her forget me. To help her move on. I flip her off as I put my foot down and drive away. Drive away from the only two people who’ll ever hold a place in my heart …





PART

TWO





CHAPTER ONE

Five years later …


Carter


I’m jolted out of my sleep by our song; Let her go, by Passenger. Well technically it’s not our song, but it’s the one that reminds me of her. Of us. I heard it a few days after I left. For the first time in years I cried. Cried like a fucking baby. It’s been the ringtone on my phone ever since. I don’t know why I torture myself by keeping it. All it does is remind me of what I’ve lost. Of the one and only girl I’ve ever loved.

I reach for my phone on the bedside table just as the brunette beside me stirs. Fuck, is she still here? “What time is it?” she asks.

“Time you got dressed and left,” I answer looking at the clock. Shit. 4:30am. Who’d be calling me at this hour? It better be a life or fucking death situation or someone’s gonna get their arse kicked. When I see my mum’s number on the screen my heart drops. Jumping out of bed, I turn to the chick that shouldn’t be here.

I can’t even remember her name. Is it Sarah … Samantha … Shona? Fuck me. I’m sure it starts with an ‘S’. Either way, I don’t do sleepovers. I’m always upfront with every girl I bring home. They know exactly what they’re getting into. I’m pretty sure I told her to leave last night after we fucked. I guess I fell asleep and she didn’t listen. I fucking hate it when they do that.

“Get your shit and go,” I snap.

“I want to go back to sleep,” she whines, pissing me off even more. Scooping her clothes off the floor, I toss them on the bed. It’s not like I didn’t make it perfectly clear last night. This was a hook-up and nothing more. The majority of them are pretty good, but occasionally you get one of those needy ones that think they can change me. Like they have some kind of magical pussy that’s gonna keep me coming back for more. Sorry, not happening. There’s only one girl on this earth that can do that for me—my Indi. Nobody will ever live up to her. Nobody.

“Go,” I say in a warning tone as I turn and walk out of the room so I can take this call. “Mum?”

“Carter,” she cries.

“Shit, Mum. What’s wrong?” I ask in a panic.

“It’s … It’s John.” Just hearing that fucker’s name has my blood pressure rising. If he’s hurt her in any way I’ll rip him apart. “He’s dead.” Well I wasn’t expecting her to say that.

“What? What do you mean he’s dead? What happened?” To be honest I don’t give a shit that he has died, my only concern is my mum. I’ve always hated him, but I need to remember my mother loved him. God only knows why.

“Carter,” she sobs. “I don’t know what happened. I rolled over in bed and put my arm around him. He was so cold. He …” She starts to cry uncontrollably. It breaks my fucking heart to hear her cry. “I need you to come home, please.” Can I go back there? I suppose I don’t really have a choice. This isn’t about me. She needs me. It only takes me a split second to make my decision.

“I’m coming, Mum. I’ll be home in a few hours. Will you be okay until I get there?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I assure her.