He cuts me off. “No, Wren. This isn’t your fault. I begged you to keep this from everyone, when I should have told him as well as my family. He has every right to be mad at me, I’ve never told him the extent of my…problems.”
“You never told him about your addiction?” I try not to balk, but how in the hell has that not come up in the four years they’ve been together? “Have you purposely kept that from him?”
Tears spot onto his cheeks, before he raises his head and has a cloud of utter defeat hanging over his tense shoulders. “I just wanted him to only know the good parts of me, so it was worth getting past the dramas of dating a Claythorne. He only knows..bits about my problems.” He gulps, voice only slightly higher than a whisper.
I step forward, grabbing his wrist. “Your dysfunctional family doesn’t tarnish you as a person, Phin. Your past, getting over those problems makes you who you are. You both deserve for him to know all of you.”
“I know. I’ve just been selfish as always.” He runs the side of his hand under his eyes, looking down at the tiled flooring like it’s much more interesting than this heart to heart.
“Mate, you’re not selfish! Scared maybe, but that’s normal and nothing to feel ashamed over.”
“You know how hard it is for me to let people in, they always seem to leave.” My own heart breaks at the thought we both share the same pain of losing our parents, but I could never understand the damage of having to say goodbye to one so young. His mothers death has left festering scars, thatsometimes I think he won’t ever truly let someone in, not even me. Maybe the only person lodged firmly in his heart is Robin.
When he finally meets my eye after a heavy pause, I see a panic flash there. “You don’t understand, Merle loathes dirty laundry being aired. Wants me far from my sister's crowd, sometimes gets tired of anything to do with us being in the public eye. He wants a more private life—this life at Nightingale. He’s not going to want me if he knows how much baggage I actually carry around.”
This is definitely news to me, especially as neither have eluded to staying away from the fame that comes with being around the Larks. Bran has never shielded away from the media like I do, he’d proudly announce the clubs we were at just to make the party bigger and better. Only early on in my career did I consider how fame would affect those around me, Phin didn’t enter that category because his family are members of the elite. Our climb into the media as young rockstars is nothing compared to the rich and powerful knowing his family name, or even yet, the very public tragic end of his mother and the fall of his father. He still sat rotting in prison and to my knowledge Phin had never visited. All this to say, a quiet life would never be in the cards being in a relationship with him, if they didn’t work really hard for it.
All I can do is try to reassure him, but my words continue to fall on deaf ears as he shakes his head and leans on me. Guests are starting to bristle within the house, so maybe we can take back control of the weekend if they’re not going to cancel. I’m about to suggest he stays out of his brother's way, but Phin sharply inhales and grabs at my dominant hand.
Ah, fuck balls.
“What the hell happened to your knuckles?!”
There's no point in lying to him, he's eventually going to see his brother's busted face. “I punched Corbin in the face last night…”
He splutters. “Excuse me? Sorry, I think this simulation glitched for a second there. Can you say that again?”
I sigh, stepping back to lean against the counter and run my thumb over my very sore skin. “I caught your brother scaring Robin and I lost it. I punched him and I’m not sorry. The dickhead had her pinned against the wall and she asked him to leave.” My saliva seems so thick in my own mouth that I repeatedly swallow, lifting my chin but I don't look at him.
“He didn't hurt her, did he?” Now my vision does snap up to him, because he sounds on the verge of finding Corbin himself and finishing what I started.
“No, but I don't know what he would have done if I hadn't gone to her room. He needs to stay far away from her for the rest of the weekend or I swear Phin, I won't be held responsible for what happens.” He gravely nods, and I know he's on my side over this decision.
He loves Robin so fiercely I've never stood a chance to truly be his person like that.
Unfolding his arms from around his body, we swap positions as he digs in the cupboard for a mug and starts to fill the machine with beans. “I’m surprised she hasn't killed me yet, if I'm honest. Robs had to put up with a lot of my shit, so I better prepare myself to grovel today.” He stays facing away whilst he makes his coffee and I know it's because we're entering new territory for us both. She's always beenhisfriend, the one I wouldn't placate to meet or even muse if he wanted to tell stories about her. Hell, I can't even reason why I acted that way all those years.
Humming, I wander over to where the prep stations are in the back of the kitchen, opening up one of the long fridges. I’mkeeping my hands busy, but maybe I can get her to fall head over heels for me if I make her breakfast. “Do you know where Robin was on Wednesday?” I ask nonchalantly, using the fridge door as a shield. He must catch on to the tone under my curiosity though, because I hear the coffee mug being ditched and the fridge door suddenly closes in front of me.
“Why?” Phin crosses his arms, playing big brother as he puffs out his chest. “Suddenly interested in my girl, bro?” He teases and I actually catch a genuine brightness to his smile. Pushing him playfully, I side step him and angle myself against the island.
“Please never call me bro again—or refer to her as yours.That's my wife you’re talking about.”
He slowly rolls his eyes and I finally understand why it looked so familiar on her sweet heart shaped face. “Play it cool Wrenny.”
I scoff, the idea ridiculous. “You told me to be honest with her, not cool.That's what I’m doing, putting all my cards on the table.”Phin regards me for a long moment and it makes my skin start to itch. Why is he studying me like that? “So, do you know what she was up to Wednesday?” I shift, asking again.
“Wednesday was the anniversary of her Mum's death, so she normally goes radio silent for a full day. She was out with Lil, then I saw her late.”
The idea that she tears herself away for a full day no doubt filled with oppressive sadness, makes me want to rage. I'm taken back by how my instincts roar at the injustice she's had to survive. I want to wrap her in my arms, like I can be her comfort blanket.
Casting my thoughts back to Wednesday, we both seem to come to the same conclusion as he drums his fingers against his arm. “You played York that day.”
“Yeah but apart from being on lock down at the venue, I followed Bran to get one of those stupid ghost figures down the shambles and ended up getting a burrito instead.” Shivers run up my skin at how busy the city had been; our baseball caps and sunglasses doing nothing to hide our identities. The dream of pretending to be ordinary tourists had died when a pack of teenage girls recognised his tattoos, then Ottis’s silver hair and my own hand tattoos. River was the only one of us who had managed to slip out undetected–I was still pretty sure he'd met up with someone in private.
“Your sister said some confusing things about Robin, myself and Wednesday. I'm missing something.” I explain, shaking my head.
“Your best option is asking her. Trust me, you do not want that woman thinking you're playing games. She's like a feral badger sometimes.”
