Patrick felt like all the blood had drained from his body. “But she said—”
“She was in shock, you dumb cunt! She needed you to step up and help her, not ask her to explain how it feels when you don’t have ten cents to rub together, and your mother has to go into a million-dollar nursing home where she’ll die!”
There was a short ringing silence.
Eden let out a small sob. “When she needed you the most, you acted like a useless twat, Patrick! And as far as I can tell, you’ve been acting that way ever since. Texting her all ‘Why you no like me no more?’ and drunk dialling me like an asshole.”
“How? What was I supposed to—”
“You’re a rich fucking football player, Patrick. Figure it out.”
“What the hell does that mean?” he cried into his phone.
“It means that’s why Cheryl doesn’t want to come near you! She saw the future and it was holding your hand whenever something bad happens because you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing, and bad things always happen to her!”
“But—”
“I don’t know why things keep happening to her,” Eden said, and he could hear she was really crying now. “She’s suffered so much and so has her mum and it’s so unfair, but that doesn’t stop it from happening. Cheryl knows that better than anyone. And you told her to trust you and you told her you’d step up and then you fucking left her holding the bag, you fucking pussy!”
Patrick’s heart was racing, blood flowing fast to his brain.
“I’ll fix this,” he babbled. “Eden, I’ll make it better. I’ll make it right.”
“You can’t! The only way she was ever going to love you is if she thought you were strong enough to be there when the Walker Curse kicked in and you fucking bombed it, Psycho.”
“Don’t say that. I’m gonna make everything okay.”
“Well good fucking luck,” she gasped. “Because Cheryl’s got an interview at The Men’s Gallery tomorrow and that hot bitch is going to make four billion dollars stripping and never need a man ever again.”
She hung up.
Patrick dropped his phone and sat down feeling like he’d just been pistol-whipped. He should have flown home with her. Should have known. And despite what he’d told Eden, he had no idea how to fix this.
He spotted his phone where it had bounced away on the carpet, and felt the panicky urge to call one of his brothers. Jase, or Ant, or Dom. Even Martin was better than nothing. Or what about his parents? Derek? Willow? His coach? Anyone. Everyone.
Someone can do this better than me.
Wasn’t that what he’d told Cheryl? The belief that undercut most, if not all, of his lack of decisions? The paralysis that led to Willow having to rescue him from Heavenly Stays and made him ring Eden for help?
It was so strong, that urge to go to a higher authority. To feel like there was a higher authority. Someone you could trust who could take care of you when things got hard.
Cheryl never had that delusion. Never believed anyone was coming to save her. Why would she? What coach could get her dad to come home and take responsibility for his behaviour? What big brother could order the ALS from her mum’s body?
He remembered the way she’d looked standing at the hotel door, barely concealed panic bleaching her beautiful face.
He’d been scared. Of how she was acting and of how his sponsors and the Sharks’ management would feel if he bailed on an important event for a girlfriend no one knew he had. He’d thought he could please everyone; go to the awards and then come home and help Cheryl. But she’d been asking him to jump into the trenches with her and he’d done the equivalent of signing an online petition.
But wasn’t that just him? Hanging around and hoping Cheryl would notice him? Being her mate because that was safer than sticking his neck out? He’d bitched out of their relationship the same way he had with the captaincy offer and university and Marcus Holloway and his brothers and every other person he’d let nitpick him.
Someone can do this better than me.
Well fucking who? Who was that person? Who was he waiting for?
He put his hands in his hair and yelled at his floor, a long crackling yell. When he stopped he was panting, but his head was clear. He still had no idea what to do.
So just do something.
“What?” he asked the voice. “What?”
