Page 92 of Painted Truths

Reaching the bed, I grab my phone, quickly finding Alex’s number and hitting the Call button.

He answers on the second ring, no greeting in sight.

“About time. Look, I’ve fucked up with Liv, and, as much as it kills me… I need to clear the air with you so that I can make things right.”

Scrunching up my face in utter shock, it takes everything in me to form a sentence. “What—" I cough, clearing my suddenly dry throat before trying again.

“What can I do?”

Clearing his own throat, I can hear him swallow deeply before he launches into an explanation at top speed.

“I lied to you.” There’s a pause, followed by a deep breath before he goes on.

“Not initially when I said Liv was just a friend. I lied at the DeMarco Holdings Gala—when I claimed she was something more. There’s nothing more than friendship between Liv and me. There never has been, and there never will be. It’s taken me this time in Dubai, and a poorly timed revelation from the woman herself, to realise I was wrong to manipulate the situation to suit my skewed view of you. Maybe everything you touch doesn’t turn to shit these days.”

Jeez, thanks for the vote of confidence.

Instead of rising to the bait, I keep quiet to allow him to continue.

“Since we’ve reconnected, you’ve been nothing but good to me. Fuck knows why you’ve bothered, really. I’ve been a proper wanker of the highest order, but I can’t–"

My stomach clenches when I realise exactly where this conversation is headed, but still, I remain mute.

Silence permeates our connection before he’s ready to finish what he obviously needs to say. “But Jesus, don’t make me say it, Rico.”

Inhaling sharply through my nostrils, I repeat the overused phrase through gritted teeth. “It’s Henry.”

Huffing in irritation, my half-brother goes on. “Henry. Okay, so look, I thought my actions were justified in protecting my friend, considering, well, you know.”

“I can assure you, brother, your actions were entirely unjustified.”

He sniggers darkly. “Excuse me if I’ll have to disagree with you there, brother. I would do anything for that girl. Anything. Which is why I’m even making this stupid fucking call.”

“Then don’t insinuate things you know nothing about, brother.”

“Henry—please, don’t patronise me. This isn’t how I wanted this call to go. We’ve never spoken about it, but… surely, you know that I remember what happened. I know everything.”

My stomach bottoms out when I feel all the blood draining from my face, but he continues.

“I was there that night.”

Rapidly sitting on the bed, in case I keel over, my recently unchained heart palpitates in my chest as memories start to rush back in, no matter what I do to keep them at bay. My stomach roils nauseously and my whole body breaks out in a panicked sweat that has nothing to do with the heat of the day.

When I speak again, my voice is barely a rasp as I choke out, “You. Know. Fuck. All.”

Hanging up the phone, I throw it across the room, uncaring if I smash it to pieces.

My head is a fucking mess as I stalk past Olivia, who is quietly and blissfully oblivious, reading on her sun lounger. Her robe is opened to bare her naked, perfect tits to the sun’s early rays, but I’m not in the mindset to appreciate any goodness today. Not right now, at least.

And so, I launch myself headfirst into the coolness of the seawater swimming pool as I allow years of repression to rush to the forefront of my consciousness, entirely unprepared for what’s to come, yet knowing it’s long past time.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Olivia

Seated by the pool, I’m not too far removed from the entrance to our bedroom, where I can hear Henry’s side of his conversation with my best friend. And judging by his tone, it’s not going at all well, despite his earlier confidence.

My perception is proved correct when he stalks past me on almost silent feet, naked as the day he was born, only to propel himself into the deep end. After surfacing, he does lap after lap as I watch his gloriously defined shoulders slice through the water with ease and precision.