“Where the hell have you been?” I snap.
I know I shouldn’t, but I’ve been worried. Pen has been gone a week. Disappeared, no note, no nothing. Even her mum couldn’t tell me where she was, only that she needed time away.
Her computer was missing, and she had vanished.
“Good to see you too,” she says, slumping down on the sofa opposite me.
“Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself?”
I find my chest tightening as I stare at her.
Something is off. She still has her gothic makeup and her black clothes, but I’m sensing something—I just can’t place it.
When she shrugs, my temper rises.
“Pen, you missed the meeting with our backers.”
She breaks eye contact, and I stop, my heart rate picking up. Pen’s gaze won’t meet mine, and my stomach sinks.
“About that.”
“Pen, what the hell is going on?”
There’s a long pause.
“Whatever it is,” I say. “We can work it out.”
Although the sinking feeling in my chest tells me maybe we can’t. Things have been a little awkward since I told Pen Darra was pregnant. A wall of silence hit me that day, too.
“I can’t do this,” she says eventually.
“What do you mean, you can’t do this?”
She looks up, her eyes finally meeting mine. The pain in their depths steals my breath. I go to open my mouth but stop at the look passing over her face. One I don’t recognise.
“I can’t go into business with you.”
I drop back on the sofa and stare at her.
“What do you mean?”
She shrugs. “Exactly what I just said. I’m not going into business with you. I can’t.”
I sit forward, my forearms resting on my thighs.
“Can’t or won’t?”
She sighs, a sound I rarely hear from Pen.
“It’s not what I want. Frazer Dawson Cyber Security is your dream, not mine. I want to create and design computer games.”
“I don’t understand. You designed the initial software.” I try hard to understand what the hell I’m hearing. “Cyber tech is your baby. The software you’ve designed is off the scale in terms of what it can do. We’re set to make a fortune. Even the backers I met with yesterday said as much.”
She shrugs again.
“This is not about money,” she says, although her voice is flat.
“Then what the hell is it about?” I say, my voice beginning to rise. What the hell is wrong with her? This is not Pen, or at least not the Pen I know and l….
