Until Harry(73)

“Cheeky mare,” my uncle said, laughing.

My lip quirked at the laughter of my family and then, without warning, I fell into a deeply medicated sleep that felt really bloody good.

Morphine was the shit.



It had been six weeks since Jensen had attacked me and put me in the hospital, and three weeks since he had been tried and sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.

I was more than ready to put Jensen and the attack behind me. I was so overtired of hearing people talk about it and reading about it in the papers.

I wouldn’t give him the power to hold fear over me. For the first couple of weeks after I got out of the hospital, I was scared to be on my own, scared to leave my house, scared to do anything because of him, but not anymore. I would never let myself be controlled by him. Ever.

It was why, when my Uncle Harry’s birthday came around and my mother suggested we throw him a small house party, I jumped at the opportunity. I wouldn’t be drinking, but I would be around family, friends and talking, and people having fun.

We held the party on a Friday night, and as predicted, it went off without a hitch, and I felt alive for the first time in weeks. Since my face and body had healed from the damage Jensen inflicted on me, no one – apart from my parents – brought it up, and I was chuffed about it.

I was having a ball until Kale showed up, Drew on his arm.

I was doing well – kind of – when it came to getting over him, but it still hurt seeing him with Drew.

They looked really happy together.

“Lane!” Kale smiled when he spotted me in the parlour.

I smiled too and got up to hug him, and then I hugged Drew in greeting because it was the polite thing to do.

“How are you?” she asked.

I nodded. “Fine, and you?”

She beamed. “I’m better than ever.”

She shared a secret look with Kale and grinned at him, while he seemed uncomfortable as he kept flicking his eyes in my direction. He cleared his throat and called out to Lochlan when he spotted him. He looked relieved that he didn’t have to stand with Drew and me any longer.

I excused myself and moved to the back of the room, my mood turning sour. I wished I had Lavender to hang out with, but she had left the party half an hour ago so she could get home to Daven, who lived with her in our old apartment. After the attack, I’d moved home and considered dropping out of university.

I didn’t want everyone on campus staring at me, whispering behind my back or, worst of all, pitying me. My father and uncle met with the chancellor of my university, and I was granted permission to attend class online, which meant I could finish my remaining two years and get my degree. I must have hugged my father and uncle every time I saw them for a week straight after I got the good news.

“Lane?”

I turned when my uncle’s voice called me.

I walked over to him and smiled. “Yes, birthday boy?”

He snorted. “You don’t look very happy – is everything okay?”

I didn’t want to put a downer on his night, so I smiled and said, “It is, but I’m just really tired. I don’t think I’m able to keep up with you old-timers.”

My uncle cracked up before getting pulled into another conversation, which I was thankful for.

I turned and my eyes, as usual, found Kale. He had his arms around Drew, and his head was tipped back as he laughed. I didn’t want to look at them so I headed up to my room, where I changed into pyjamas. I went into the bathroom to clean my face, and tied my hair up in a bun.

When I exited the bathroom, I came face-to-face with Drew Summers.

“I want to talk to you,” she said firmly.

Uh.

“Can it wait?” I asked. “I was just about to go to sleep.”

“It can’t wait,” she said. “I want to talk to you now.”

I gestured her into my bedroom. I closed the door behind me and folded my arms across my chest, standing across from her.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“You hate me,” she said confidently.

I blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

She grunted. “You. Hate. Me. I know you do.”

I scratched the healed cut above my eyebrow. “I don’t understand what is happening here.”

“I saw you downstairs, watching Kale with me, and you looked angry.”

I was more sad than angry, but I tried to downplay it and said, “I’m just tired—”

“Don’t lie,” she said, cutting me off. “You hate me. Admit it.”

She wants to have this talk? my mind hissed. Fine.

“I don’t hate you,” I grumbled, “but I don’t like you either.”

That was a white lie. I did kind of hate her.