Hate You: Chapter 32

Wednesday afternoon comes around all too quick. I’ve spent a solid three days inside my flat. I’ve got up to date with the boring part of my business that involves invoicing, health and safety and insurances that have been hanging around on my to do list for too long. But mostly I’ve drunk and I’ve drawn. I’ve been so busy since… well, since I first took over this place that aside from time sitting on flights back and forth to the US I’ve not had time to sit and do what I love. Draw. I end up with a sketchbook full of tattoo ideas, both for me and others, and I hate to admit it, but most have been sketched with her in mind. No matter how much I tell myself that walking away from her was the right thing to do, she’s right there at the forefront of my mind taunting me and telling me that I made a mistake.

I’ve picked up my phone to call her more times than I want to admit. And every time my phone’s vibrated signalling an incoming call or text my heart’s jumped into my throat, thinking that it’s her. I don’t even care at this point that she’ll be contacting me to give me a tongue-lashing for my behaviour. Actually, the thought gets me quite excited.

Rearranging myself in my trousers at the thought of getting the chance to argue with her, I push myself from the sofa and prepare to go and meet my client. The young woman’s coming back so I can complete her angel wings. With a coffee in hand, I make my way down to the studio.

It seems I’m not the first one here because the lights are already on and there’s a faint buzzing coming from Titch’s room.

“Morning, boss,” comes from the kitchen as I’m standing staring at Tabitha’s desk like a fucking loser.

I tip my chin at D in greeting, but he frowns as he takes me in.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, never better,” I lie. “Got a busy day?”

“Nah, just a couple this afternoon then I’m off early.”

I nod, give him a smile that I don’t feel and head for my room. D’s been a part of my life for too long now. He was Jon’s uncle, but he adopted me into this life pretty early on and he’s been there for me like family ever since.

“Zach,” he calls when I’ve got my hand on the handle of my door. I look back to find him not far behind me. “I’m here, yeah. If you need anything.”

I nod again, unable to say any words for fear of the truth about how I’m feeling to come tumbling out. I shut myself in my room to get prepped.

The ding of the front door being pushed open sounds out only twenty minutes later, and I head out to great her.

I find her sitting on the edge of one of the sofas, chewing on her nails. If it’s possible, she looks even more nervous than last time.

“You know, I’m pretty sure it’s meant to get easier each time,” I say, leaning my hip against the wall as I study her. Her blue eyes fly up to mine and her lips part in shock like she didn’t hear me coming.

“Oh… um… yeah, you’re probably right. I’ve never been one to do things the way I should though.”

I smile at her, knowing the feeling well. “Right, well… are you ready to get this over with then?”

She nods, and I turn to head back to my room, but not before I swear I hear her mutter that it’s about time.

I ignore her, assuming it’s just her fear talking, and hold the door open for her to join me.

“You know what to do.” I gesture for the bed and move to grab my stool. As she lifts her top to give me access to her back, I notice that her entire body is trembling with fear. “We don’t have to do this today if you’re not ready,” I offer, worried about her state of mind right now.

“No. I need to get this over with.”

“Okay. If you need me to stop, all you need to do is say.” She nods and gets herself into position.

I hesitantly get started, expecting her to call me off any second, but she just lies there as I do my worst.

I’m getting toward the end when I feel eyes on me. Looking up, I find her staring over her shoulder at me, but she’s so lost to whatever it is that’s in her head, she doesn’t even notice my attention. I allow myself a second to take her in. Her eyes are light blue, but her hair is so dark it’s almost black. She looks much younger than she is, if her ID was to be believed, and although she’s pretty I’d be more tempted to describe her as cute seeing as she looks so young.

She eventually comes back to herself and gasps in shock when she finds me studying her. For someone so small and cute, it’s impossible to miss the strength she has. There’s something in those blue eyes which tells me she’s not the naïve young woman some people might mistake her for. I’m under no illusion that all this ink is her armour, and one she wears very well.

“Sorry,” I mutter, focusing back on what I should be doing.

Suddenly I have this almost uncontrollable need to ask her questions. Real questions about her life and how she’s found herself here, but I bite my tongue. That’s not how I usually operate, I do my thing and only talk if my client is the one who sparks up a conversation.

While I’m working, the time seems to drag, but the second I pull back from her body, I realise it was over in a flash.

“Okay, you are done.” A sad smile curls at her lips as she lies there. “You want to see before I wrap it?”

She nods and scoots off the bed so she can stand in front of the mirror. I hold another up before her so she can see. Her breath catches the second she locks eyes on it, and they immediately fill with tears.

“Who’s it for?” I don’t mean to ask, it’s none of my business, but the words fall from my lips without permission.

Her eyes find mine in the mirror and all the colour drains from her face. She sucks in a long breath before cursing.

“I’m so sorry. I never wanted it to be this way.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The wings. They’re for… they’re for our mum.”

Silence fills the room, but neither of us breaks our eye contact in the mirror as her words settle around us.

Our mum.

Our mum?

I laugh. “What the hell are you talking about?”

She spins, and the second I get a look at the fear on her face everything inside me clenches. My fists curl and my short nails dig into my palms. My first instinct is to kick her out, forcibly if it means she leaves, but for some reason my body doesn’t react. My heart races and my head spins as I continue staring into her apprehensive eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t want to do it like this. But I…”

“Fuck,” I shout, my hands coming up to grip my hair as Kas jumps back like I’m about to hit her. What the fuck?

I look up at her. Her eyes are wide, her arms wrapped around her chest protectively as if I’m about to lash out. It’s enough to drag me from my own head for a second.

The silence aside from our heavy breathing is suffocating as we stare at each other, her eyes begging me to believe her and my head not knowing what the fuck is going on.

Things I’ve heard my whole life start to run through my head. It’s been a running joke between me and Harrison for as long as I can remember that I’m the milkman’s kid, seeing as I’m the only one with less than zero interest in the family business. Where everyone else has dark eyes and hair, here I am with blonde and baby blues. No one’s ever confirmed anything and my parents have loved me the same as the others, but there’s always been that slight seed of doubt in my mind. But as Kas stands here waiting for my response, I can’t help that seed suddenly exploding to a full-blown fucking tree inside me.

I don’t need to hear any more to know she’s telling the truth. I feel it. There was something about her the first time she turned up, how scared she was, the way she studied me when she thought I wasn’t watching

I stumble back and fall down onto the chair as I try to process what she just said.

Our mum.

Our mum.

“Zach, I’m—”

“My sister?” I finish for her, my brows draw together in confusion as I try to process all this.

She nods. “I know this is a shock but I… I couldn’t be alone any longer.” Her voice cracks and when I look up I’m struck with just how hard all of this must be for her. Whether what she’s saying is true or not, she’s fucking drowning, and I feel like I’m watching it happen. Standing, I pull her into my arms and hold her tightly while she cries.

My heart thunders as she trembles against me.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I can’t… I can’t do this.” Before I’ve registered what’s going on, she’s out of my arms and running from my studio.

“Kas, wait,” I call, but it’s no use. She’s too fast. The front door slams, and by the time I get out there I’ve no clue which way she’s gone.

As I stand in reception alone, the weight of what she just told me really hits me.

“Motherfucker,” I shout, kicking the coat stand that’s in the corner. I watch it sway and crash to the floor seconds later. Not satisfied with that, I clear everything from the top of Tabitha’s desk and send a bookcase full of magazines crashing to the floor.

“What the fu—” Titch and D come racing from their rooms at the same time and come to a stop side by side in the entrance to the reception. “Zach?”

I roar in frustration, as I storm towards the door to my flat. “Leave me the fuck alone,” I bark over my shoulder, successfully stopping them from following me.

My chest is heaving like I’ve just run a fucking marathon when I fall back against the inside of my door. My life is falling apart and connecting in equal measures as I think over my life and how I’ve never felt like I’ve fitted in.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I find my parents’ number and hit call. I’ve no clue which one of them might answer, or if they’re even in, but I don’t give a fuck right now. I just need an answer.

“Hello?” My dad’s voice booms down the line, and it’s like a knife to the chest. I just about keep myself standing, knowing the conversation that’s about to commence.

“We’re you ever going to tell me?” My voice is much steadier than I was expecting.

“Tell you what, son?” he asks innocently, but I don’t miss the slight waver in his voice. It’s all I need to confirm what I already know. She was telling the truth.

My knees give, and I slide down the door until I’m on my arse.

“Did you think I’d never find out? That your lies would never catch up with you?”

“Zach.” The way he says my name, the softness to it, has a lump forming in my throat. “I think maybe you should come here and we can talk about this in person.”

Red hot anger like I’ve never experienced before explodes in my belly. “You’ve been lying to me my whole fucking life. I’m not listening to a fucking word you’ve got to say, let alone following your damn orders. Who was she?” I demand.

“Zach, please. I’m not doing this down the phone. Tell me where you are and I’ll come to you.”

“Fuck you, old man. Fuck. You.”

The phone in my hand goes flying across the room and shatters against the wall. Who the fuck does he think he is to start making demands when he’s the one who’s spent the last twenty-seven fucking years lying?

I’m up off the floor before I’ve realised I’ve moved, and the washing up that was sitting on the drainer flies off in all directions as I sweep my arm along the counter. Glasses and plates smash, but the sound isn’t satisfying in the least, not like I hoped. Ripping the door open to where I’ve got alcohol, I pull out a bottle, not even noticing what it is. Twisting the top, I take a long pull. The strength of it burns my throat as I swallow, but it’s not enough to stop me having more.