In the morning, I text Kate to see if he was there. For all I knew he had gone home with Cindy. That thought sent a jolt to my heart. Fucking get a grip. You were the one who didn’t want him, remember?
K: He’s here and not in a good way. Did you two fall out?
A: You could say that. Can I come up to see him?
K: Yeah. We’ll make ourselves scarce so you can talk x
A: Thanks, I’m on my way. Maybe don’t tell him, though.
K: I’ll leave the front door open for you.
I got dressed in joggers, a baggy t-shirt, and added a pair of sunglasses to hide the bags under my eyes. I avoided Jonathanand drove up to Kate’s house. Kate was just getting to the car when I pulled up. She waited for me to get out of the car, eyeing me up.
“You okay?” She walked over to my car.
“Not really,” I answered with a quiver in my voice.
She looked down to my bruised hand. “Take the glasses off, Andie,” she almost demanded. I did as she asked and met her gaze with tear filled eyes. “Fuck, I thought he had hit you. I would have beat the shit out of him.”
“No, nothing like that. I haven’t got much sleep lately.” I rubbed at my tired eyes.
“What happened last night? He came home in tears, angry and sobbing. I’ve not seen him like that before.”
“I’m sorry for this. I knew this would happen. We had a fight.”
“So, this is a serious fight then?” She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. Her lips tugged into a small, sad smile.
“Yeah. I think this was the fight to end all fights, but I don’t want to get into it now.” I croaked out and put my sunglasses back on so that she wouldn’t see the tears building up.
“No, of course not. You two need to talk. Text me later, okay?”
“I will.” I nodded and turned to walk to the house.
The walk up the stairs was the slowest I’d ever moved. My feet felt like my trainers were made from lead. I both didn’t want to do it and wanted it over with as quickly as possible at the same time. I knocked on his door.
“I don’t want to see anyone right now, Mum. Maybe later,” Morgan called out, his voice raw and gritty.
“Morgan, It’s me. Can we talk?”
I heard movement from inside his room and his door swung open. He didn’t wait for me, he just turned around, his steps slow and sluggish, and got back into bed.
“I just wanted to talk,” I said quietly.
Putting the box to the side of me, I stood frozen to the spot for a while. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, not knowing what to say, but also, not wanting to leave.
“Morgan? Can you look at me please?” I moved and sat on the edge of his bed.
It took a few moments, but he eventually turned, looked up at me, and sat up. I took my glasses off. His eyes were glassy and had black circles under them.
“You haven’t slept either, huh?”
“Not much,” he admitted, sitting up and rubbing at his face. “How’s your hand?”
I looked down to the bruising of my knuckles and flexed my hand. “Meh, a bit bruised, but I’ll live.” I met his eyes again. My body felt heavy under the pain, like it was weighing it down; my shoulders slumped, and I bit my bottom lip hard to stop it from trembling.
“I’m sorry.” His voice broke again and this time tears fell from his eyes which he made no move to wipe at.
“No, I’m sorry. I let jealousy get the better of me and I lashed out.” I placed a hand on his, sparks running up my arm. That was a mistake, I moved my hand and instead fidgeted with the hem of my top.
