No one would notice Helen’s absence that way.
No one except him.
The weight on his chest increased but Seb managed to hold it together until Brenda left him alone again. He stepped outside to gather himself in the fresh air and then called Helen.
No answer.
He tried again, ready to leave a voicemail, but before the call connected, Freddy came up announcing The Wags had just arrived.
Seb sighed. He couldn’t deal with Helen right now. He had to focus. He sent her a text telling her he’d come by tonight, then joined Freddy on his way to meet The Wags.
It was showtime.
Game face on, Seb went through the motions, bringing out his whole repertoire of smiles. He mixed with the crowd with Nadine and Ashley, thankful that they took the limelight so that he could work with the PTs—more his kind of people—and focus on the fitness side of the event. He checked his phone every spare minute. Helen hadn’t called or replied to his message. The way he’d acted yesterday, he didn’t really blame her.
After the race—in which he’d placed second and Nadine fifth—Seb posed for photographs and took part in interviews with the local press. As soon as the last question had been answered, he headed straight back to his trailer to change out of his sweaty running gear, then stopped short at the sight of Liz and Tony.
Damn. Under the turmoil of the past few days, he’d forgotten that Helen had invited them. “Hey, guys. Nice to see you.”
Liz smiled back but then her eyes narrowed. “Where’s Helen? I’ve texted and called but she hasn’t replied.”
Helen hadn’t told them?
“She’s not feeling well today.”
Liz frowned. “That’s not like Helen. Why didn’t she tell me? Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. I’m sure she’ll be in touch soon. I’m sorry, guys. You’ll have to excuse me.” Seb strode past them, feeling like a world class shitbag. “I have to go change.”
The pain in his chest gripped tighter as Seb marched on to his trailer.
That’s not like Helen.
No and neither was it like her to sell her soul to the devil to risk everything for a pile of easy cash.
Seb thunked his head against the side of the trailer. He should’ve stayed and listened to her, not shut down and walked out. Like he’d done with his dad that day. Like he’d done to his mom only to find her drunk on the sofa.
“You look terrible, Clarke, are you ill?”
The voice behind him had Seb’s blood boiling.
Grice.
Fuck, but the man had a habit of turning up at the worst times.
“This is a private area. You shouldn’t be here. If you’ve come hoping to get a piece of The Wags, this isn’t the way to go about it!”
“I haven’t come for The Wags.” Grice’s hands shot up in quick surrender. “I’m looking for Helen. I haven’t seen her anywhere today.”
“She’s not here. She’s sick.” Seb almost yanked the trailer door off its hinges. He stepped inside, ready to slam the door in the world’s face—then caught Grice striding away already on his phone.
What was that sleazy little shit playing at? Did he think he could get a story out of this?
Seb marched after him.
“No, she hasn’t turned up,” Grice was saying into his phone, his back turned. “Yeah … Clarke says she’s ill. The friend, Liz Halling, is here too. He told her the same thing.”
What? How did Grice know Liz?
