The week progressed with painful slowness. Sophie’s red-rimmed eyes seemed to worsen with every day and Aaron felt guilt tear at his heart every time he looked at her. He knew he didn’t look much better. Sleep refused to give him respite from the long nights of worry.
He knew he was driving Sophie insane, but he couldn’t stop himself from calling her every evening, needing to hear her voice, sad but unmistakably alive. And every morning, as he waited for her to pull into the yard, anxiety yanked and pulled at his insides and ugly words circled his head, reminding him who would be to blame if she didn’t come.
The memory of Fiona Dixon haunted him. The way her face had morphed from horror to a strange serenity with every word he’d flung. She’d been so calm, taking him in her arms and comforting him the way his mother never had, stroking his head and promising him it would be all right, giving him hope when all the time she knew she had none.
Suicides lied. He wouldn’t be misled again.
On Thursday night, he’d rung Sophie only to have her snap at him that, no, she wasn’t all right. Her rotten father hadn’t called, Tess had left the hayshed paddock gate open again and Buck had dumped her twice that afternoon. He’d panicked, racing around to Vanaheim and banging on her door like a lunatic. He gave Sophie credit for being more polite than if he’d been in her shoes, but her intention was clear.
Piss off and leave me alone. You’ve hurt me enough.
The situation couldn’t last. They were both going crazy.
‘Are you going to tell me what the hell’s going on with you, or do I have to guess?’ asked Sophie on Friday morning, to Aaron’s relief. Since she’d booted him off Vanaheim the previous night, he’d been mulling over how to bring it up. They were sitting on the verandah step – him at one end, Sophie at the other, and at least a metre of empty space between them – drinking tea and soaking up rays of autumn sunshine.
He took a sip of tea to collect himself, wondering where he should begin.
Sophie filled in the silence for him. ‘Why do you call me every night?’
That question was easy to answer. ‘To see if you’re okay.’
‘Why wouldn’t I be okay?’
That one was harder. ‘I don’t know.’
She sighed. ‘You ring me every night to see if I’m okay and yet you won’t come within breathing distance of me. I’m starting to think I smell or something.’
‘You don’t smell, except of horses.’ And wonderful Sophie things like toothpaste and soap.
‘Are you scared of me?’
‘No.’
Sophie tossed the contents of her cup out into the yard and stood. ‘If you aren’t going to talk to me, Aaron, then there’s no point having this conversation. Who are we taking out next?’
He glanced at her. Her cheeks were red and her grey eyes dark. She was angry. He looked away, knowing that what he was going to say was likely to turn that anger into pain.
‘I’m not scared of you, Soph. I’m scared for you.’
‘Why?’
He closed his eyes, his heart aching, and tried to find the words to ask what he needed to hear. The words wouldn’t come, but they didn’t need to. From the moment he looked at her again, he knew she’d already figured it out.
She gasped and took a step back, her eyes full of disbelief. She tugged at the sleeves of her jumper, stretching the woollen fabric over her hands. It was done so quickly, he knew it was automatic, like an animal hiding its wounds from a predator.
‘Oh, God. Tess came to see you, didn’t she?’
He nodded and stood. She looked so pale he thought she’d collapse. He took a step toward her, but she held up her hand, warning him away.
‘Give me a minute.’ She turned and stumbled across the yard to Rowdy’s stable and disappeared inside. Aaron stood helpless, not knowing what to do. Wanting to comfort her, but fearing it would only make things worse.
He sat back on the step and put his head in his hands. Once again, he’d failed. He’d made her miserable when all he wanted was to see her happy, to see her living a life filled with joy and love and laughter.
There could be no forgiveness for what he’d done, but he could at least watch over her and keep her from harm. How was he supposed to do that, though, when the very thing he needed to protect her from was himself? But he had to be strong. The time had come to pay for Fiona Dixon and Rodger Laidlaw’s deaths.
And he knew now the price was Sophie.
She came out of Rowdy’s box with her shoulders squared and her stride steady, and he admired her for her composure. She sat down next to him on the step. There were no tears, just the same determined look he’d seen on her face before she took off out of the starter’s box on Sunday.
‘What did she tell you?’ she said.
He swallowed. ‘That you’d tried to kill yourself.’
She nodded. ‘I did. When I was fifteen.’
‘Did you mean it?’
She laughed but bitterness tinged its edges. ‘Oh, yeah. I meant it all right.’
Oh, shit.
‘Why?’
‘I was upset over a boy, among other things.’ She looked at him and then sighed. ‘Go on. Ask away. I can see you’re dying to. You want all the gory details? I’ll tell you, every single last horrible moment of it if you want. Just get it over with so we can go back to being whatever it was we were before.’
But what were they before? Two people pretending to be friends? Real friendship required honesty, and he could never be honest with her. Almost lovers? That was a joke. The only sex he could ever have with Sophie was in his head. So what were they? Romeo and frigging Juliet, that’s what. Destined never to be anything except fated because he’d once been stupid and naive and unforgivably cruel.
He rubbed his hand over his face, overwhelmed by bleakness and sickened by his own pessimism. Sophie sat beside him clench-jawed and rigid, drawing on a strength he wished he shared.
‘Who was he?’
‘No one important.’
‘He must have been important to you.’
She turned to look at him. ‘Why do you need to know? ’
He needed to know so he could hunt the bastard down and beat the shit out of him, but Sophie didn’t need to hear that.
He shrugged. ‘Curiosity, I guess.’
She looked away. ‘It was just someone from pony club I had a teenage crush on.’
He took her hand. It felt cold. ‘What happened?’
When she spoke, her voice was unemotional, robotic, as though she’d repeated the explanation a hundred times and was now bored with it.
‘He asked me out. There was no one to stop me, so I went. I was fifteen. He was eighteen. He acted like he really cared about me and, like the stupid little fool I was, I fell for it. Two weeks later, I lost my virginity to him on the back seat of his car at a pony club camp. Afterwards, I found out he’d done it for a bet. Slashing my wrists seemed a good idea at the time. Happy now?’
No. He wasn’t happy. His gut burned with anger and his heart ached with sorrow and guilt. But as he’d discovered over these past weeks, when it came to Sophie, his guilt was like a hungry animal that fed on her suffering. It needed more.
‘And the other times?’
‘What other times?’
‘Tess said you’ve tried a number of times.’
‘Tess is full of shit.’
He scanned her face, trying to work out if she was telling the truth.
‘I don’t lie, Aaron. I hate lies, just like I hate secrets. Ask me anything and I’ll give you a truthful answer, even if it hurts.’
‘Are you okay now?’
‘Yeah. Two years of Dr Charlton and lots of drugs put paid to that. Now I’m just your average 22-year-old going through another rebellious phase. The difference being that I’m older and a bit smarter this time.’ She smiled, this time genuinely. ‘And I have no intention of having sex on the back seat of anyone’s car, including yours.’
‘I don’t blame you. Given the springs have gone in the Land Cruiser’s, it’d be bloody uncomfortable.’
She laughed. ‘I’ll remember that.’
He squeezed her fingers, serious again. ’Promise me you’ll tell me if you ever feel like that again.’
‘What, like having sex on the back seat of a car?’
‘No, I meant the other.’
‘I know you meant the other.’
He touched her face. Her skin was soft and cold from the frigid morning air. He wanted to kiss it. She closed her eyes and pressed against his fingers as though his touch was the loveliest thing she’d ever felt. His stomach flipped over.
‘Promise me you’ll tell me.’
She opened her eyes and shook her head. ‘I don’t need to. It won’t happen again. And that, I can promise you.’ She turned her face from his hand and stood. ‘Come on, let’s get back to work.’
Aaron didn’t want the moment to end. He wanted to stay on the step talking to her. ‘It can wait a bit longer. We’ll have another cuppa.’
She shook her head, her mouth narrowed and her eyes focused on the distance. ‘Nope, let’s get this over and done with.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the sooner I leave here, the sooner I can get back to Vanaheim and murder my aunt.’