Rising (Blue Phoenix, #4)(50)

He nods slowly. “But we need to talk; we can’t leave things as they are, you know that.”

“I know. But not now. I need a smoke and a rest.”

Jem drops his hand and I grip onto the illusion I’ve created around myself today, the strong girl coping with the pain and fear of the situation in a way that’s had people commenting how brave I am. But I’m not fooling Jem; and if I stand here for a second longer, I’ll break down in front of him, and if I do, I’m not sure what’ll happen.

Aware heavy words hang between us and the anxiety growing with my nicotine craving, I offer Jem a reassuring smile I’m sure he doesn’t believe and head toward his garden and the fresh air I’m about to pollute.

I take up my usual spot on Jem’s patio, sitting on the edge of the wooden chair as I light up and stare at his neatly mown patch of green in the middle of the city. Of course, he has a gardener, to go with his cleaner; and God knows what other minions he has when he has a need. The garden is bordered with white and yellow roses, my favourite flower. The ones I have etched on my skin.

I stub the cigarette in the terracotta tray and sit back, focusing my mind away from anything Dan, Jem, or painful. The door bangs and Jem stands in the doorway, watching me silently.

“What?” I ask. “You’re freaking me out staring like that.”

“They both stopped me,” Jem says.

I shake my head at his sudden comment. “Who did? What are you talking about?”

“The kiss.” He rests against the doorframe.

“Jem. Forget it.”

“I can’t.”

“You don’t have to explain. It’s cool.”

Jem ignores me. “Liv.” He shakes his head. “My Mum. I can’t separate you; you’re like both of them together. It’s like being pulled back in time. The demons controlling you are the ones that torture me too.”

I straighten, unsure what to think and why he’s chosen to say something so strange out of the blue. “Do you speak to your counsellor about all this?”

He tips his head. “Do you mean shut up and talk to your counsellor?”

“No. It’s just…”

“No stress, Ruby. You’re right. I’ll talk to my counsellor.” Jem puts a hand on the door, ready to go back inside.

“No. Talk to me.”

He smiles weakly and I realise I’ve killed his attempt to open up. “No. You don’t want to hear.”

“I’ll tell you about Dan,” I blurt. “About why. You asked once. Jax knows, doesn’t matter if you do too.”

Jem pulls on his bottom lip. “I don’t know.”

“You mean shut up and talk to your counsellor?” I mimic.

“No. If you want to talk to someone, I’ll listen.”

“That’s not what I mean. Forget about it.”

Jem walks over, sits in the chair next to me, and reaches out. That’s exactly what he’s doing - reaching out. But why? “I know that’s not what you mean. I’m making excuses for myself. It’s because if I know more about you, you’re harder to keep away from.”

When Jem takes my hand, I don’t want to let go and squeeze his as I force back the tears in my eyes. “You mean if I let you know about Tuesday?”

“Such a weird name,” says Jem.

“Such a weird girl.”

“Weirder than Ruby?”

“She suits Jem more than Tuesday.”

He frowns. “What?”

“Rubies – they’re gems.”

“Is she?” His mouth tips at the corner.

“Ha-ha.” I pull my hand away, fighting the urge to light up another cigarette. “Dan was my brother’s best friend.”

“Was?”

“My brother died three years ago.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry to hear that.”

If I close my eyes, I don’t need to be here. I could stay in the calm quiet, amongst the rose scent of the garden and not engage. But I have to. I want Jem to know me; and then at least, if he rejects me, he’s rejecting who I really am.

“Quinn was more than a brother; he was the one good thing in my life, and some bastard drunk driver killed him.” I rub my knees. Can I do this? Tell him who I really am? “He was only twenty-one, walking home from a night out and got hit. Instant. He was always there for me and I never got a chance to say goodbye.”

“f-uck.” Jem attempts to reach out again and I tuck my hands under my arms, tensing against any attempt by my body to breakdown.

“Quinn was older than me, things were shit at home, and he looked out for me when everything got bad.” I catch Jem’s eye. “My dad left when I was too young to remember him and my mum left when I was thirteen. She moved overseas to live with a guy who didn’t want her baggage. Quinn and me moved in with my uncle and aunt. My aunt was great, but my uncle didn’t want my mum’s baggage either so things were tough. Me and Quinn helped each other, then Quinn left for uni and I was stuck there.”

Jem shifts and stares at his bare feet. “Yeah, I get the shithouse parents thing.”

This makes sense, another connection I suspected. “When Quinn left for uni, he asked Dan to keep an eye on me, a person to turn to when things got really bad at home. Dan did. He was a great guy, really, nice. Would do anything for me. Dan let me sleep on his sofa each time my uncle scared me enough to run away. I trusted him because my brother trusted him.”