“No.” He shakes his head. “Now that I have her, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her.”
I wish I found it easier to own my feelings. To act on them. After I saw Tuck the other night, his words have stewed in my head. I found myself going to a meeting later that night. There was a session for carers, but another one for love after loss. An older woman spoke of the ways she learnt to trust love and herself again after putting away her abuser. To not fear the consequence of misplaced trust, but instead acknowledge her strength to survive hard things. She counts every day since she put her ex-husband away as a second chance. Nine thousand, one hundred and eighty-seven sunshine days. She met her second husband on day eight hundred and seventy-five. She believes he was sent to her by the angels as a reward for what she endured. Hearing that made me think of August, those feelings of him sending me Isabelle. The vision I had going into the ambulance, and hearing him say they needed me. My family. His mum and Kit. I’m sure Isabelle is counted in there as well, if not the very first one in line.
“Talked to Izzy?” Caleb says, interrupting my thoughts.
I drop my head back against the couch, the stone of her necklace feeling like it burns against my chest where it rests. I sigh as I stare up at the ceiling, tracing the intricate roses as I figure out what to tell my brother.
“Why won’t you just talk to her, fucker?” Caleb hisses. “Mum would be so disappointed you haven’t checked in on her. She really likes Isabelle.”
I click my tongue, flicking over the piercing while I’m at it. “You’re a dick.”
“No, you’re a dick.”
“Caleb!” Mum tuts from across the room, making me smirk to myself.
It’s silent for all of three seconds before Caleb announces to the room, “Gage hasn’t spoken to Isabelle since the crash.”
My eyes flare open as heat engulfs my cheeks with embarrassment.
“Henry!”Oh fuck.Mum just used my first name. “Why are you not speaking to her? It wasn’t her fault. That’s just awful.”
“Very selfish.” Mockery paints Caleb’s words.Prick.
“That poor sweet girl! I told you to call her,” Grams scolds, and I feel myself sinking into the couch, wishing it would swallow me whole.
“Why would you choose to ignore Grams, Henry? And poor Isabelle. My dear, dear friend.” If I had a list of people I hate, my big brother would be at the top right now.
“Perhaps he felt bad for getting her into the accident,” says Grandpa, always the voice of calm reason. “If she’s trying to talk to you, Gage, she’s obviously more worried about your wellbeing than hers. I think you should call her.”
“I agree,” says Dad. “It was an accident, Gage. You’re not to blame. Nothing you did that night could have changed the outcome. It was the other driver who crossed into your lane.”
I know that, but reminders of the night I lost August have been plaguing my nightmares, replacing them with Isabelle instead. I can’t stop the images from replaying, and the most annoying thing is, I bet the nightmares would stop if I had Isabelle sleeping beside me.
“Yeah. If anything, you saved her from being hurt more when you threw yourself over her.” I shift my eyes to my sister, where she watches me with one raised eyebrow, subtly telling me she’s spoken to Isabelle during the week. No wonder Beth’s been more pissed at me over the last few days. I wonder how much Isabelle has told her about the last few months.
“I’m sorry, brother,” Caleb mutters to me once all the outrage around the room has simmered.
“No.” I shake my head. “You’re right. I should call her. I’ll do it tonight.”
***
“Thanks for bringing me and Tiny home,” I tell Beth as we pull into my driveway.
“It’s no trouble at all.” My eyes narrow at the suspicious tone of her words.
They’re not soft and sympathetic, nor are they strained and frustrated like most of our exchanges have been this week. When I turn my head to take her in, there’s a devious smirk on her face, and her eyebrows are raised matter-of-factly.What is she up to?
Beth navigates the circular drive, rounding it until the porch is behind us, making my walk from the car easier. I slowly swing out, hobbling to the back door to pull out my crutches, while Beth lets Tiny out from the other side.
I freeze when I notice Isabelle slowly stand from one of the porch chairs, crossing the deck to lean over the balustrade.
A soft smile touches her face as she watches Tiny pause to sniff in the garden bed, then climb his way over to the stairs leading up to the front door.
She looks beautiful as ever. Her hair is down, and she’s wearing a fuzzy pale blue jumper with white sweatpants.
“Fix it. Cos if I have to pick sides, I’m picking hers,” my sister says from the open window of her driver’s seat.
“Did you know she’d be here?” I whisper.
