The Vine (30 page)

“Lucas, what the hell happened?” I ask incredulously, sitting down beside him and putting my hand on his knee.

“I lost it,” he mumbles numbly.

Then it hits me. “You did all this?” I wave my hand to nothing… to everything.

He nods. “I guess so.”

“Lucas, the room is completely trashed.”

“As I said, I lost it,” he repeats with no tone or feeling to his voice.

I sigh. “Look at your hands; let me clean them up before I start on the room, and you can be telling me what the fuck is going on.”

Lucas gets up and walks in slowly behind me, and as we enter through the glass doors, I hear him say, “Fucking hell, did I do all this?” His voice isn’t raised, but there is slightly more life in his tone than before.

I sigh again, shaking my head as I head to the bathroom to get a bowl of warm water and the first aid kit. Over my shoulder, I say, “I thought you would have been over the moon that we’ve found Lizzy; I just don’t get it.”

As I come out of the bathroom, I see his face is tight and angry.

“Lucas, stop,” I say. “What on earth is creating this monster in you?” I pull his hand and get him to sit, and I take a seat next to him, preparing to play nurse. As I take his other hand, I can see he is holding something, and then I realise it is his phone. He’s clutching onto it for dear life; I try to remove it, but his grip tightens. I look at him in question, and he looks back at me, then to his phone. He opens his palm and taps out his code, taps something else and then holds the phone up to me so I can see the image. I take the phone so I can look at the picture of Lizzy more closely. It looks like she is in a café of some sort, and she’s laughing with a young man. I look back to Lucas, still confused.

“There’s more,” he says, so I start to slowly flick through the images. There is picture after picture of Lizzy in variations of her day-to-day life, laughing with different men, in embraces with them, arm-in-arm with one and then finally, kissing another. I feel Lucas’s demeanour change and tighten beside me as I look at this one. It does look quite intimate, but it could also be innocent.

“She’s moved on,” I hear him state bitterly.

“I don’t know, Lucas. This could be innocent.” He makes a sort of pffting sound, and I know it means
yeah, right.
I look back at the picture, and the more I look at it, the more I’m unconvinced.

“I might as well pack up and go home; I’ve lost her,” Lucas says; his emotions are all over the place, and he now sounds sad and defeated.

“Where did you even get these pictures anyway?”

“They were emailed to me,” he says detachedly.

“Who from?”

“I don’t know—an unknown, anonymous. Probably that smooth Italian fucker who’d been like a leech all over her at the club,” he says with pure venom in his voice. “So this is a new side of me Lizzy brings out, eh?” Lucas asks me. I don’t answer, because I don’t think he really wants one; I think it’s more of an observation. I see him look around the room.

“I don’t even remember doing all this. I remember looking at those pictures after spotting Lizzy. I remember nearly falling apart when I left the club, and throwing my guts up outside. Then I was walking back here, thinking, ‘It’s all done; it’s all over,’ and I felt a sadness like I have never known wash over me, and I remember thinking this is how Lizzy must’ve felt when she thought I was going to die.

“Then I got so angry, and I was winding myself up with thoughts of him and her. When I got back here, it was like the proverbial red mist all-encompassed me, and that was it. That’s all I remember until you found me.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Lucas, but I don’t buy it. This stinks of a setup to me.”

He swipes his hands down his face, then rests them on his hips as he says, “Okay, just say it is a setup, as in someone is secretly taking photographs of Lizzy and sending them to me. The pictures still speak for themselves. Lizzy is happy; she has made a life for herself. She’s got a connection with that Italian guy—I saw it with my own eyes at the club, and I’m seeing it here in this picture.”

“Did you see him kiss her last night?” I ask.

“No, but he was looking at her like he wanted to—”

“No,” I interject, “from what I saw, they were just a guy and a chick fooling around and having a laugh. Lizzy deserves to laugh after all she’s been through, Lucas. It doesn’t mean she loves you any less. The grief, the sorrow and the complete sadness I saw in that girl’s eyes was pitiful, and all that emotion in them is for you, Lucas; it’s only love for you. Also, as far as that picture goes, don’t believe all you see. The more I look at it, the more I see an innocent, friendly kiss that has been captured to look like something more. Someone is setting this all up and is obviously trying to piss you right off. Come on; who have you upset? Actually no, don’t answer that, because you upset everyone,” I say smirking.

Lucas ignores my playful banter as I hear him ask, “Do you really think so? Do you really think we still have a chance?”

“Yes, I think if we play this right, you really do have a chance, but it’s a very delicate situation. Poor Lizzy still thinks you’re dead,” I try to convince him.

“Okay, okay,” he gives in, “I’ll do anything. I’ll even follow your lead and your rules of how we’re going to play this.”

“Good,” I say, glad to finally be getting through to the stubborn arse. “Well, the good news is I know where Lizzy is staying,” I continue, trying to brighten his mood.

“That’s great,” Lucas says, and I can tell he’s really trying to be enthusiastic. I also see his eyes light up in hope. Sometimes Lucas’s relationship with me reminds me so much of mine with Cole, in the way that one minute I want to scream, kick his arse and hate him, and the next I want smile, give him a hug and love him. There is a slight difference between the two though, and it’s the fact I have never thought of Lucas in a sexual way, whereas with Cole, I’ve not only thought about it, but I’ve acted on it, and he is one hot, kinky son of a bitch. Damn these bloody Castle men; they get under my skin one way or another.

“So,” I continue, “I’m going to get some sleep for a couple of hours, and then I’m going to head over to Lizzy’s hotel and wait until I see her leave. I’m going to see if I can get an opportunity
to speak to her.” I get up and walk to my room yawning and stretching.
Damn, it’s been a long night.

“I’ll just tidy up a bit, and then I can work out any damages and offer to pay the hotel,” I hear Lucas say in the distance before I flop on my bed and crash without even getting undressed.

I am waiting out of sight under a shelter outside of Lizzy’s hotel, and it’s starting to rain. I don’t know how long I’m going to be here, and I don’t care; all that matters is that I—at some point—will get to talk, laugh, cry and cuddle with my best friend again, and that thought alone clears the cobwebs from my head from my lack of sleep this morning.

I plot up, thinking I could be here for hours, but it’s less than one when I see Lizzy leave her hotel. I get ready to follow her because it’s raining heavily now, so there’s no doubt Lizzy will be in a rush to get wherever she’s going. I just hope she doesn’t jump in a taxi, but as I look at her running out of her hotel, I can see immediately all is definitely not well.

Even from my vantage point, I can see she is sobbing. My poor friend looks absolutely distraught. She runs out and down the street, and I follow her. Each turn she takes, I’m not far behind, and eventually I see her stop at a shop front. I stop on the corner and watch her fumble with keys, and I can clearly see the poor girl is in bits. Finally, she opens the door, runs in and promptly locks it behind her.

I walk farther down, nearer to the shop, and I can see now that it’s a café. I figure it’s the café from the pictures Lucas had.
So okay, Lizzy works here; that’s not so bad.
Lucas will be pleased; the men in the photographs are just customers from the café where Lizzy works. Innocent enough.

But why is she so upset?

I watch her lean her back against the door, and then I see her physically crumble as she slides down the glass in what looks like despair, and now I don’t know what to do. My instincts tell me to
run over, bang on the door and comfort her, but I’m torn. Firstly, I know nothing of her life here, so I have no idea what has upset her so badly, and secondly, she has no idea I am here in Verona looking for her, and I really don’t know if now is the best time for her to find out.

Without realising what I’m doing, I find myself moving closer to the café; my connection with Lizzy is too strong a bond to let her suffer in silence. Before I know it, I’m outside the glass door, soaking wet, looking down at my new and improved best friend, who is almost as miserable as the last time I saw her. I don’t know if she senses someone is standing behind her, but the next thing I know, we are looking into each other’s eyes.

I pull myself up off of the floor and turn so we are face-to-face with just a sheet of glass between us. I turn the key in the lock, turn my back and walk away; I can’t look at her right now. I lean against the counter, still with my back to her, but I hear the door open, close and then I hear the key turn in the lock once again.

I want to say something; I am so angry, but I also despise confrontation, so whatever is on the tip of my tongue waits there. The silence is deafening, and I’m sure Katy is wondering what is going on and why I am not running into her arms; grateful she has come to find me. I wince to myself; I want to so much, but she’s betrayed me. My best friend, who was like my sister, comforted Luke—which is what I would have expected of her if he came out of his coma without me being around—but the picture I saw showed her taking it to a whole new level. She knows how much I love him; she should have never gone there. I know Katy is a sexual person, but get a fucking grip and know when to say no. Then I hear her.

“Lizzy,” she half-calls and half-questions me as to what is going on. My body tightens, and I wish I was stronger, but I start to weep; my shoulders hunch and start to heave.

“Lizzy,” Katy says again, with concern in her voice this time. “I came to find you. I had to find you; I need you in my life.”

Silence.

“Lizzy, speak to me, or at least look at me. What’s happened?”

I want to look at her because I love her so much, but I don’t want to look at her because she’s hurt me, and I thought she never would. “For goodness sake, Lizzy, look at me!” I can hear she’s getting frustrated now. I turn slowly, but I look down; I still can’t look her in the eyes. I can hear her feet padding over to me, and still I look down. I can see the bottom of her jeans and Converse—her relax-day staples.

Slowly, I look up, and we are now face-to-face. I love her. I hate her. “I know he’s alive,” I whisper.

Katy nods, pauses and then speaks. “It’s ironic; he awoke from his coma the day you left. He and I both know it was you speaking to him that brought him around—he loves you that much. You saved his life.” I can hear the smile in her voice at these things—these things I know could be true, but are now tainted by her having feelings for my beautiful man, my Luke, my one true love. And to make matters worse, Katy knew how hard it was for me to trust someone, but I trusted him, and I trusted her implicitly.

“How could you?” I try to say it hard and with meaning, but it comes out weak.

“What do you mean, Lizzy? I’m confused.”

“I know I wasn’t there when he woke up, and I’m the one who’s got to live with that. I also know that as my best friend, I would have expected you to look after him because I wasn’t around. I know he is a gorgeous, hot-blooded male, but I expected you to have some control and keep your hands to yourself when it came to my man,
my
Luke, the love of my
fucking life
, Katy.”

I hear her gasp and say, “Lizzy, don’t; do not even say those sorts of things. Yes, I have helped Lucas out—of course I have—but that’s all it’s ever been. I helped him to recover so he could find you—so
we
could find you.” I finally have the strength to look her in the eye, and when I do, all I can see is truth, and love. I have been holding myself rigid, and I feel myself slowly relax.

“Lizzy! Why on earth would you think such horrible things? And how dare you think I would ever comfort him in any other way than as a friend. It’s inexcusable for you to say such a thing. And how do you know Lucas is alive anyway? Have you seen him?”

Questions, questions, questions—it’s doing my head in, and I don’t know what to think anymore. “I saw pictures” is my only comment, as if that will settle Katy’s thirst for answers.

“What?” she asks. “Pictures from whom? Pictures of what?” She keeps on with her questions, and I can tell she’s getting annoyed now, but I can’t deal with this.

“Katy, can you please leave?”

“What?” Katy asks incredulously, as if she really can’t believe what I’m asking of her. All I hear though is another question, and I finally lose it.

“What is so bloody hard to understand? I want you to leave, now!” I shout. “I need to get ready for work, and I can’t do that standing here listening to your barrage of questions that are just not helping; in fact, they are just making things worse.”

“Lizzy, what has happened to you?”

“Jesus, Katy, was that another question? Well here’s an answer—I think it’s pretty fucking obvious what’s happened to me! I have been through hell and back thinking I have lost the love of my life, only to find out, in fact, he’s fit, well and back to shagging everything that moves. I suppose I could half-understand a near-death experience could do that to a person, to him, that nearly dying could make him think he’s only got one life, so he may as well make the most of it. Why would he want to be tied down to a plain, boring old misery with too many issues—a girl who just wants prince charming, romance, marriage, children and a happily fucking ever after? All that I could honestly get if he didn’t then go and propose to another woman—a beautiful, sexy woman—who is clearly nothing like me.” My voice breaks at this last bit, because even just the thought hurts me so badly, and my last words are just a whisper as I say, “Just go.”