Best Life

Chapter 34

Katie

Coffee.
AirPods.
Sketch book.
Pencils.

I'm engrossed in my work this morning and I'm really happy with the progress so far. This sketch could definitely be a pivotal moment for my portfolio. And if Jimmy likes it, perhaps he might add it to INk's online portfolio too. I fucking wish. A returning client makes me feel all kinds of good.. Like things are actually going well for me. Like things are getting under control. I don't feel quite so lost, tired and well...angry.

My head says it's down to my hard work and focus. My heart says it's got a lot to do with a tall, raven haired man who's charmed his way into my life. I'm not complaining. Hell no. The way he looks at me, with those piercing eyes, like he can see into my soul. It's like we are connected somehow. I get lost in those eyes. I force myself to pull back sometimes. Protecting my heart if I can. Keeping things in perspective. But it feels good to let go. I know he has most of my heart anyway and it feels good to start trusting again. Am I scared? Fuck yes. But his touch, his kisses, his amazingly talented hands are giving me all sorts of feels. Waking up next to him is my new favourite that I'm quickly becoming addicted to. Is it nearly time to take a chance at being truely happy?

So if I'm happy in my life, the girl must be god damn ecstatic. An amazing partner in life that fulfills her every need. A successful and highly respected career...unless she fucked up at school. God damn selfish girl. See this is what gets me angry. The very thought that she's out there, not making the most of it, not living the best life possible...it drives me fucking crazy. She got the fucking second chance. She got it. My parents didn't. She better not be fucking it up.

I shake my head and try to relax my face. The scowl and the red hot anger isn't helping my design. Just fucking chill out Katie. I take another sip of coffee, take a deep breath and settle down to concentrate on what I'm doing. I don't hear the front bell go, or the slight commotion out front. But suddenly the door to my private booth is thrown open and Adam comes hurtling in. What the actual fuck?

We lock eyes instantly. That unspoken connection is crackling like a streak of lightning and the storm is just ready to unleash.

He looks all kinds of confused.
Hurt.
Pained.
Sad.
Lost.
His eyes are darting everywhere. Searching my face. For what? I have no idea what's going on but it doesn't feel good.

"Adam, what's wrong?" I ask hesitantly.

He looks at me with such profound concern that he doesn't actually respond to my question.

"Adam?" I raise my voice slightly louder.

He has a book in his hand. He brings it to his chest and looks me dead in the eyes. It's some sort of scrapbook. He slowly peels it open with shaking hands. He flips to a page and thrusts it towards me.

"Is this them?" His voice rumbles and cracks.

What?
Who?
It's my turn to not respond as I try and make sense of what is happening.

"Is. This. Them?" His voice breaks. Tears seem to be welling up in his eyes. It's like he knows something I don't. And I don't like it. Not one fucking bit.

I look away from the obvious distress in his face and look closer at what he's showing me. It's a newspaper article with a photo of a car wreck. It looks quite old as the paper is slightly faded. It's not something I recognise and I look up at Adam in confusion.

"Look at it, because I need to know for sure," he insists. He thrusts it closer to me. His expression hardens as he studies me.

I check the date of the article.
Oh no.
No.
The just recognisable number plate of the wrecked car.
Oh... no, no.
No.
I scan the words and see them.
Victor and Daniel.
No... no no no.
Fuck.
I know what this is.
I just don't understand why.

"What the fuck is this Adam? Why do you have this?"

My voice is strained and laced with dread. I'm angry. At the very brink of being widely out of control and about to rage.

How fucking dare he come in here and wave the worst day of my life in my face?

Did he go digging into my past just for some fucking confirmation of my story?

Who the fuck does he think he is?

"I need to tell you something..." he starts with determination in his voice.

"You know what... I don't think I wanna hear it," I'm seething. My jaw clenches hard and I stare fucking daggers at Adam.

"Please Katie... just let me..." he now pleads but I can't absorb anything he's saying. I can only feel angry that he's bringing this to me. Shoving it right in my face. I'm too far gone to see reason or give him any time to explain. I haven't seen that photo in years but it causes such an uncontrollable rush of emotions that I can feel myself about to do something for pure self preservation.

I slap the book out of Adam's hands and watch it slide along the floor under my work station. He draws in a sharp pained breath and looks down to me quickly. His tear rimmed eyes look at me pleadingly but I hardly notice how much he's hurting.

I only feel my own pain.

I've only just managed to drag myself through the anniversary, fully believing that I was coping a little better. Not giving the girl too much time in my head and now Adam has completely turned any progress I'd made to absolute shit.

"Katie..." he whispers.

"Get out. Get out right now. How fucking dare you. You. You have no right to come in here and demand to know anything about me...or my parents... or what fucking happened to them," I bite at him.

He takes a step back as I unleash at him. Unable to reason or think past the rush of pain. He looks at me with such sadness, almost like he expected me to react like this. Like he's readied himself for the tirade and the anger.

"Ok... I'll go. But, this isn't over. I won't let it Katie. There'll never be a reason why I wouldn't want you. I'm not giving up on you... ever."

His words don't make sense to me but I don't dwell on them as he slowly shuffles out the door leaving me alone. Finally. What a fucking shit show. I steady my trembling hands and take in a few deep breath's, trying to temper the pain back down.

Why did he do that to me?
Why dredge up something so hurtful?
If he had questions, why not ask me somewhere other than work?
Why throw that it my face so unexpectedly?
So many questions but now that he's gone, I don't have any answers.
But I don't think I want them anyway.
What good would it do to pour over the tragedy of my parents accident?
Nothing will bring them back.
Nothing will ease the pain.

I turn and notice the book on the floor, paying more attention to the cover. It's pink. It has 'Mum & Dad' written in glitter pen. Something shifts at the back of my mind, and I can't seem to tear my eyes away from that cover.

It draws me in.
Beckoning me to look closer.
Delve deeper.
Find the answers.
Confront the questions.

I pick it up and start flicking through the pages.

And then it comes barrelling at me with a force that I'm not sure I can survive.

The recognition.
The realisation.
About him and who he is.
Who his parents are and what happened to them.
That very same night.

I can't think.
It's all too much.
I can feel the tears waiting to spill from my eyes and the searing pain wrenching my heart apart.

Victor and Daniel.
And the other couple...Ben and Evelyn.
All dead.
All gone.
Except for her.

Which means that the girl.

The girl.

It's Sam.