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Circle of Friends-Steve’s Story: Book Excerpt |
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The air in the room hung thick with tension. Thick with unspoken words and desperation. Steve wanted to turn around, wanted to look at the women sitting on either side of the bed—almost as much as he didn’t want to. No, he didn’t. He wanted to turn around and walk out the room, close the door behind him and pretend that none of this had happened. Pretend his life, and the lives of the people around him, had never been shattered by tragedy. Instead he trained his eyes on the bed, on the deathly still figure of Tyler. As impossible as it was to face his injured, comatose friend, it was still easier than looking at the women at his bedside. Steve suppressed the howl of agony that beat for release against his chest. He had to hold it together. For everyone’s sake. Reluctantly, he turned to his ex-fiancée. “Hey, B—” Steve caught himself. Babe no longer seemed appropriate. Such intimacy and affection weren’t a part of their relationship anymore. “Hey,” he corrected. “How’s he doing?” It wasn’t easy talking to her. It hurt, big time, but he had to put his emotions aside. They weren’t important now. Tyler’s recovery was. She sniffed, touched a knuckle to her nose, and blinked. She looked awful. Uncharacteristically so. Her eyes were bloodshot and her skin pale as alabaster. Even her hair, which usually bounced with vitality, hung limp around her face. She looked about as good as he felt. Her gaze darted from Steve, to Tyler, to the other side of the room, then back to Steve again, before she answered in a strained voice. “Same, same. Dr Lavine was here a little while ago.” She gave him a weak smile. “They’re going to decrease the Hypnovel tomorrow.” Steve nodded in response. They’d kept Tyler drugged for several days, reluctant to bring him out of his sedation. He’d sustained a head injury and, unable to assess the extent of the damage, the medical team had elected to sedate him until the swelling subsided. The induced coma had been necessary to decrease any risk of further damage to his brain. Now it was time to wean him off the drug and see how he responded. If he responded. Steve’s composure began to crumble. Not here. Not now. He had to hold it together. He forced a lungful of air into his chest in a futile attempt to regain his poise, nodded carefully, and finally let his gaze wander around the room. Damn stupid thing to do, inhaling like that. The sweet, subtle scent of a perfume he had not smelled in a very long time wafted around him, teasing his nose with the memories it evoked. His gaze settled on the chair he’d come to think of as his, and as if in on cue, the muscles in his neck went into spasm. “Hello, Steve.” One look, that was all, and anguish barreled over him, knocking sense from his mind. She was here. In Sydney. In Tyler’s hospital room. Sitting opposite his ex-fiancée. God help him, she was still as dazzling as ever. Beautiful, with her luxurious, coppery hair falling in waves over her shoulders. Her presence still had the power to render him speechless. Or perhaps it wasn’t just her presence. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that the only two women he’d ever fully given himself to, the same two women who had rejected him, sat meters apart, both facing him now. His chest seemed to constrict, screaming in silence against the lack of oxygen in the room. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Every muscle in his body froze, suspended in time. An act of self-preservation? If he so much as twitched now, he’d likely turn around and flee. Get the hell away from the most excruciating circumstances he had ever been forced to face. Or worse, he’d likely grab the woman he loved and hold on to her, tight, so she wouldn’t be able to leave him again. The question was, if he did grab her, which woman would it be? And what would she think if the man she’d dumped took her in his arms again? “Hello, Pen,” he answered at last, trying in vain to throw off the claustrophobia that threatened to choke him. She smiled. “It’s good to see you again.” Good to see him? Was it really? Bullshit. He didn’t believe her, not for a second. It had to be every bit as agonizing for her as it was for him. Fuck, how could she look so composed? Tyler lay in a coma beside her, and her ex-lover stood bewildered before her. What gave her the right to take it in her stride, without so much as blinking an eye? “It’s…good to see you too.” No, God damn it. It wasn’t. It was shocking. It was gut-wrenching. It was unbloodybelievable. Penelope stood in the same room as him for the first time in two years. In the interim they had not spoken once. Not a single word had passed between them. Not a letter, not an email, not even a stupid text message. Nothing. Even at the airport, when she had boarded the plane to London two years ago, they hadn’t spoken. Sure they’d communicated that day. He’d silently begged her to stay, pleaded for another chance. She’d looked at him with those enormous chocolate-brown eyes, infinite sadness written in her face, and neither of them had said a word. At least Kate had spoken to him when she’d given him the boot. At least she’d given him valid reasons for ending things. Not that it made the hurt any less, but at least he understood. Now Pen was telling him it was good to see him again. Yeah, sure. As good as it was to see Tyler half-dead, he imagined. “Kate…” His throat felt rougher than usual and he cleared it and tried again. How did you talk to your ex-girlfriend about your ex-fiancée—while both of them stood in the same room? “Kate told me she’d called you. She said you were coming to see Tyler.” He didn’t tell Pen he’d been sitting next to Kate when she made the call. Didn’t tell her she’d taken the responsibility of contacting Pen off his shoulders, and phoned herself. “I had to come,” she said, stating the obvious. “Of course you did.” He couldn’t help but feel guilty. He should have called, he should have been the one to tell her about Tyler. But how did you pick up the phone to tell the woman you’d once worshipped like a goddess that someone she loved had almost been killed in an accident? For a long moment he looked at Pen, incapable of coherent speech. She gave him a quick smile, then dropped her gaze to the floor. Somewhere in his peripheral vision, he saw Kate’s face soften in sympathy. Damn it. The last thing he needed now was her compassion. He maintained his focus on Pen. She looked older. A few lines around her eyes and her mouth marked her thirty years. She also looked exhausted. Dead on her feet. Her lids drooped, the way they always did when she was tired. God, he used to love it when she looked at him with her eyes all sleepy like that. When she’d snuggle up to him, and nuzzle his chin with her mouth, before curling onto her side, spooned against his chest, and falling asleep. There was none of that cozy comfort in her gaze now. Instead the fatigue he saw there seemed to be mixed with distress. Pen might appear composed, but she was cut up. No doubt about it. But then, who wouldn’t be tired and troubled after a long-haul flight from London, and a trip to the hospital with her ex-boyfriend’s ex-fiancée to see a comatose Tyler? Christ, what a fucked-up situation. For all of them. |
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Circle of Friends: Steve’s Story |
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This excerpt is unedited, and may differ slightly from the final copy. It contains words and concepts that may be offensive. Please do not read if you are under 18 |
