Cuts Like An Angel (29 page)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Rosie

Rosie headed downstairs, praying for the right words with her sister. She was good at saying all the wrong things or the things that seemed to make her sister go on the defence. Who was she kidding? Everything made her defensive with Rosie.

“Morning sis,” Rosie said cheerily, entering the kitchen.

Lacey sat at the table, holding her coffee cup with both hands. “Hey,” she said.

Rosie fetched a cup and poured her coffee, ignoring the flash of pain. “Josh had to run some errands.” She tossed a smile over her shoulder, pulling the sugar bowl to her. “Was thinking we could see the village? You’ll love it.”

“I’d like to find a hotel.”

“Are you sure? I can get a room ready today, no problem.”

“Mom wants you to come home to take care of this business.”

Rosie paused with her spoon mid-air. “Why?”

“Dad isn’t well,” she said.

Fear gripped Rosie’s stomach. “What’s wrong? Why didn’t she tell me? How …”

She waved her hand barely. “They think it’s prostate.”

“What … like …”

“Cancer.”

“Oh my God,” Rosie said, sagging onto the counter. She left her cup and went on numb legs to the table. “When did this happen?”

Her sister aimed caramel eyes at Rosie and she realized something was missing. Mischief. God, she was telling the truth. But there was more, she felt it. “Are you okay Lacey?”

Her eyes dropped with the raise of her brows. “David and I are getting divorced.” She shrugged and turned her cup around. “Caught him sleeping with that bimbo secretary. In his office.”

“Oh no,” Rosie whispered. “I’m sorry.”

She snorted and looked at her. “Why would you be sorry?”

“What? Why wouldn’t I be, you’re my sister.”

She aimed her gaze at her with a quirked brow. “You sure about that?”

Rosie stared, confusion holding her immobile. “Why would you say that?” The words barely made it past her throat as dread churned in her stomach.

“I’ll let mom fill you in,” she said.

“W-what?” Rosie rasped, shaking her head. “I’m not going anywhere until I know what you mean.”

She aimed a hard gaze on her. “Dad wants to see you.”

“Why do you say it like that?”

Her face became a mask of annoyance. “You know what? I’m just going to tell you. You’re a big girl now, right? So mom had an affair, big whoop, big shock. Like dad never had one. And even though mom swears you’re his, well, he wants proof.”

“Proof?”

“A blood test, Rosie.”

Rosie’s face twisted in confusion, pain, then anger. “Blood test? They have my blood, they know,” she argued.

“Well, daddy don’t trust it. He wants a fresh one.”

“Oh my God,” Rosie heard herself say. “Oh my God. I’m not. I’m not going.”

“Then you won’t get your inheritance.”

Her cold matter-of-fact tone bit Rosie. “I don’t give a damn about the
money,
’” she whispered, beyond pissed now.

Her sister’s eyes pinned her with a heartless glare. “Don’t get dramatic. You know you could use the money. Don’t think I believe for a second any of this,” she said, waving her hand around, shaking her head at her. “So how much you paying him?”

“What?” Rosie drew back a little, unable to believe her sister was this person before her. “What is wrong with you?”

“I don’t blame you,” she said. “Id’a paid him too.”

“I’m
not
paying him.”

She chuckled a little, turning her coffee cup in small increments as she studied Rosie with an accusing stare. “I sure would,” she said. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Rosie’s voice hardened now. “Josh is a
great
man.”

“Sure,” Lacey said, smiling like Rosie was still the stupidest girl on the planet who never ever learned a damn thing, and she thought that was the funniest thing.

“Why are you such a bitch?” Rosie really wanted to know that one thing now. “Is it Mom? Did she do this to you somehow?”

Oddly enough, she shrugged. Either she didn’t care, didn’t know or didn’t care to know. “He’s good looking, I give you that. Did you sleep with him? I mean is he available?”

Rosie aimed a lethal stare at her. “Does he look available to you?”

“Ohhhh, little Rosie is possessive.” She smiled, seeming genuinely happy about that. “Nothing like a challenge. You think he would resist me? None of the other ones did, what makes you think he’d be different?”

“Why do you hate me so much, Lacey?”

She busted out laughing and sat back. “I’m just playing,” she cried lightly. “I don’t want your English muffin leftovers.” She looked around the kitchen and gave a sigh. “But I am single and might want to shop for my own English muffin while I’m here.”

Rosie eyed her, not sure what to believe with her. If she were telling the truth, then … God help England. If she weren’t and she planned to be stupid, then … God help her sister. Rosie was done being the sibling saint.

Lacey hopped up from the table suddenly. “I’ll dress and you can show me around. And don’t worry about daddy, he’s just being a baby. Who cares if you’re really his, the man raised you, he’s your father whether he is or not.”

Rosie didn’t even want to think about him not being her father. She didn’t want to think of any of it. Not until she was alone where she could properly freak out and sob her eyes out over another family member lost. Her mother she’d mourned already. Her sisters too. Her brother she really didn’t know, but her dad had been the one solid ground. Maybe a push over with her mother, but a solid in her heart and life and mind. Finding out he was not her real father was the last thing she ever wanted to find out.  

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Josh

The flashing blue sirens signalled the disaster long before the sight of the ambulance itself. Josh slowed, watching the light show in the surrounding trees. Josh knew it came from outside Maria’s house. Always the one for the dramatic entrances and exits. If she wasn’t the centre of attention at least once a day, then it wasn’t a good day. She’d love the flashing lights, the way the neighbours twitched at their windows, wondering what happened to her. She’d probably give a sickly royal wave as the paramedics carried her out.

Josh idled his bike along the path leading to her front door, in no hurry to get close and throw himself into the tragic performance. Even the clouds above him brought a sense of foreboding to the impending doom that was sure to darken his day. Grey clouds colouring the sky with bleak hues. He gripped the handlebar, steadying himself and exhaling long and slow.

When the house came into view properly, his heart slammed against his chest and fought to burst out. Paul was standing outside the house, hand in his pocket, head down, and volumes of blue and white smoke rising into the air as he puffed on his cigarette.

The house was shrouded in darkness, like one of the grey clouds had settled on it. Death was in the air and clung on like a desperate mother coming to take home her child. The all-too-familiar scene brought a lump to his throat. 

Josh parked his bike out of the way and pulled his helmet off. The weight of whatever he was about to face pressed down on his chest, making him struggle for breath, his lungs suddenly filling with imaginary water that wanted to drown him. He held onto his bike to steady himself as he bent over.

Fuck
.

He’d seen this moment so many times in his head. He’d dreamt it, planned it. Fuck, he’d even plotted how to make it happen—dreams of how to unshackle himself from her poisonous drugs that he craved so often. His skin buzzed with electricity and made his head swim. He stepped out of himself the way he had done so many times before, becoming nothing but an echo in his own mind.

It wasn’t supposed to feel this way. It wasn’t meant to be this way at all. In his mind, all those nights lying there, listening to her raspy snores … he’d been free. This would be his moment of release from the prison she kept him in. He’d be able to shake off the cold hands that held him submerged for so long, swimming to the surface to be a new person—be someone else … someone like Josh.

His mind was stuck on the wrong track. This was supposed to be his moment of glory—his victory—but instead, there was an ache in his heart, painful beats pumping cold blood around his body, chilling him to the bone.

It smacked him in the chest like a sledgehammer. Hope was gone. The last ounce of pain she could deliver was this. The realisation that she would never love him, never truly want him. And she would die that way, leaving the foolish wishes of a man who had never accepted what his brain had always known. He’d never get her validation. He’d never get that piece of himself he had craved and sought in her. She was too selfish. Too stuck in her own misery to be able to climb out of the mud to save him.

He swallowed hard. The crunch of the gravel under his shoes brought trepidation closer to him with each step he took—swamping him.

The inside door opened, and his heart slammed into his chest. He stopped abruptly, feet rooted to the ground. The paramedics guided a stretcher out the doors.

Paul jumped when he saw him, then quickly stubbed his cigarette out under his shoe. “William,” he said. “I didn’t see you had come.”

But Josh’s eyes were on the paramedic, Paul’s voice an echo in the distance. Maria … she wasn’t dead. They had her strapped to the gurney as they carried her out, red blanket across her body, belt around her waist. Her frazzled hair hung limply around her face.

“William,” she wailed when the paramedics swung her around and she caught sight of him. “Did you see what the fucking faggot did to me?”

Josh cast his eyes over to Paul, who had since lit another cigarette and taken to pacing. “Whatever it is, I am sure it wasn’t on purpose,” he offered absently.

“That’s just like you, isn’t it? Always stick up for them? Never stick up for me. It’s like you want to see the bad inside me all the time.”

“No …”

The paramedics carried her to the ambulance, ignoring the drama that unfolded around them, like they were used to it. They conversed as if they weren’t carrying a bitter woman with a lashing tongue.

“Watch it,” she shrieked when they locked the wheels of the stretcher into place to push her inside the ambulance.

“She’ll have your head if you’re not careful,” Josh said, trying to cover up Maria’s offensive chatter.

“I’m really sorry, William,” Paul said, coming to stand beside him. Josh took Paul’s cigarette from his hand and put it between his lips, sucking in the toxic smoke and taking it all the way down into his chest. He exhaled, slowly, feeling the scratch of the poison, wishing it was this easy to exhale all the venom in his life. It had been years since he had smoked, and the sudden infusion of nicotine in his system made his head light. It was fucking great.

“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault,” Josh said. “I know what she is like.”

“I was trying to get her to bathe,” he said, pulling out another cigarette and leaving Josh with the first. The paramedics had Maria in the back of the ambulance now, one of them filling in paperwork, the other taking her vitals. “She always has the blue bubble bath. You know the one?”

Josh nodded. He did. She was so fucking particular with stuff, which he would understand if it was a class thing, but she wasn’t making him buy the expensive to be royalty—she was just being a picky shit.

“We didn’t have any left, and I picked some up on my way in, but they only had the purple one. You know … lavender?”

Josh nodded again, saying nothing.

“I hid it from her. When I do that, she never knows, but she caught sight of it and …”

“All hell broke loose?”

“She refused her bath. Refused to even get in her chair. I tried to … make her,” he said, pausing on the word, looking guilty. But it didn’t matter. He’d not blame Paul if he beat her unconscious and shoved her in the tub. “She started hitting me,” he went on, pulling up his sleeve and showing Josh the bright red mark that was there.
Shit, that would bruise
. “She ended up slipping from my gasp, smacked her side on the fireplace.” He took a shaky drag on his cigarette. “They think her hip is broken.”

Josh raised his eyes to where the paramedics were doing the last of their checks.
Shit
.
A half broken rag doll to deal with now.

“I can leave right away,” Paul mumbled quickly. “I understand if you need to take legal action.”

“No.” He nearly laughed, derisively on that one. That was the last thing he would want. “This isn’t your fault. I know what Maria is like.” He placed a reassuring hand on Paul’s shoulder. The man seemed to slump at the words and the comfort, his eyes welling up. Josh tensed. He better not cry—Josh didn’t do crying. “I should follow the ambulance,” he said quickly as the paramedic got out and shut the door. “You take the rest of the day off, okay? We’ll talk later. I’ll call you and let you know.”

“You’re not going to fire me?”

“After this much time, I’m surprised you haven’t quit on me already. Go home. Take a break. We’ll talk, okay? It’s all fine, I promise.”

Paul nodded nervously as if he didn’t believe Josh. But Josh had no intention of firing him. He’d been the longest to stick around Maria—there was no way he was getting away that easily. At the hospital, Josh took a moment to text Rosie. God, he hoped she was doing alright with her sister there. Lacey was okay, maybe a little highly strung. She reminded him of one of those women who lacked any self-confidence. They pretended to have it, but really, she was nothing more than an insecure little princess whose daddy hadn’t noticed her. He bet his ass that her problem wasn’t actually Rosie, but lack of attention. Another Maria.

Hope you’re okay and having a good day,
he texted her.

Painful,
she texted back.

I’ll rub that pain away later,
he said with a wink smiley.

I’ll need it. We’re going shopping.
She added five stars at the end, and Josh smiled
.

You’ll be fine. I’ll see you when you get home.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and took a deep breath.

Maria was in getting an x-ray on her hip, but they were pretty sure she had broken it. She might not be able to walk, but the bitch could surely put up a fight. Her bones were so brittle from the lack of use now; they broke with ease. It was going to take weeks. They just had to confirm it.

Josh stared vacantly at the doctor as he told him about Maria’s condition and the help she would need, the time she would need to convalesce. The man probably thought that his absent-mindedness was down to upset and worry, but it was nothing but dread and fear and anger at himself for not letting Maria go sooner. She wouldn’t have been his problem anymore. He’d not have had to deal with this. And if that made him a selfish asshole, he didn’t care.

They had given her something for sleep, and Josh sat down wearily in the chair next to her bed, his legs stretched out in front of him. With a long sigh, he rested his head on the back of the seat, letting his mind wander. Hospitals were never really places of care for him—well, for William.

He remembered the time he broke his wrist. It was a stupid thing … kids thing. They’d taken a skateboard to the top of one of the hills near their school. It was quiet and smooth and perfect for boarding with no old walkers to get in their way. William had gone first, of course. He always went first—the most daring of them. But he wasn’t brave, just wasn’t afraid to die.

He’d taken the skateboard for a long run up, pumping his foot against the ground, pushing, faster and faster until the feel of the wheels over the concrete vibrated through his thin-soled shoes. Pete and Steven had cheered as he passed, urging him on. He’d reached the top of the hill, stuck his hands in the air and yelled as gravity sped him up with his own momentum. They’d run this way a ton of times, dashing down the hill to get to school—but never on wheels.

They’d not realised the path didn’t peter out into a lesser incline, instead, it was a little wall at the bottom, separating grass from stone. They’d all jumped over it more than a hundred times in their lives, yet none of them countered in that detail, and William surfed that board like shit coming off a shovel. He’d done the only thing his mind could come up with in that second, and jumped off the moving board. The speed made him land awkwardly on his ankle. He’d put his hands out to catch himself, and naturally, it wasn’t his ankle that he had broken, but his wrist.

He’d hidden it from his mother but it had created an infection. One night she beat him halfway to hell and threw him under the stairs. It was his own fault; he’d got in her way. His fever spiked in the dark, his stomach rolling until he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He vomited in the corner and she finally opened the door, only to make him walk himself to the hospital and get his ‘shit cleaned up,’ as she had put it.

His jaw clenched in remembered anger. Maybe someone should tell Maria to clean her shit up—although he doubted very much that it would make much difference. Josh sat forward, the weight of the day pressing against him. He’d been there for hours. They just had to admit her formally, and then he could go home. But the admissions team was backed up. Rough day, they said. Yeah, well, he was having a fucking rough life, so ...

He stood up and sighed. Maria didn’t move. Whatever they gave her had knocked her out big time. It probably got mixed with the booze she undoubtedly already had in her system—enough drink to sink an entire fleet of sailors, he was sure.

Josh glanced at the other cubicles around him. People sat with loved ones—mothers with children, husbands with wives, lovers with the boyfriends and girlfriends—talking, offering comfort. He had no place here, sitting with Maria, and his only wish in that moment was not that she would get better, but that she hadn’t done this in the first place and ruined his day—again.

“William,” she slurred as he was about to close the curtain around her bed and hide her from any watching eyes.

He paused, his mind as tired as his body. “Yes?”

“Don’t be so useless and get me some coffee,” she rasped. “None of that weak shit, either.”

“I don’t think you can have any just yet.”

A long exaggerated sigh left her lips. He knew what that meant. Like a tidal wave sucking itself back, ready to blast the land until there was nothing left.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said through clenched teeth and then walked away quickly before she erupted. He didn’t have the mind just then to deal. He pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes, pushing away the headache that made a promise to visit later. He’d grab Maria a coffee, but he needed a minute for himself. He walked through the emergency department with no destination in mind.

Outside, he pulled his phone out and checked it. Nothing from Rosie. Hopefully, she was having a better day than he was. His thumb hovered over the call button. Why would she even want to hear from him?