Twisted Hearts: The Complete Duet Read online

  Still, I can’t deny that half the reason why I’ve never had a steady relationship with a guy since is because I subconsciously compare them to Zeus. Apples and oranges. How could a boy ever compare to a man such as him?

  Simple: they don’t.

  “You don’t mind if I message him, then?” Kate asks. “He could probably give us a lift to Scott’s if your dad’s okay with that.”

  “Has he got friends?” I need options. If things with Scott don’t pan out, I want someone to help me push those kinds of thoughts of Zeus back into the darkest corners of my mind.

  I need a distraction.

  “Has he got friends,” Kate mutters, mocking my question. “Of course he has friends.”

  “But not your brother.” I point a finger at her. “I’m not going to be stuck hanging out with your brother all night.”

  “Nah, Trent will have something else on with his motocross crew.” She rolls away to retrieve her phone as the rugby boys erupt into frustrated cries of defeat.

  I prop myself up on my elbows as they attempt to retrieve the ball from the macrocarpa hedge. Good luck with that. Kate taps furiously to my right, wriggling around from butt cheek to butt cheek. It’s almost sickening how excited she is; the guy must be hot.

  Still, I could guarantee he’s got nothing on Zeus. Why am I back there? I dealt with this obsession ages ago. I was young, it was a tough time, and he had been a shoulder to lean on—that’s all.

  Whatever makes you sleep at night. Fuck.

  I lie back and close my eyes, frustrated as my mind continues to wander while Kate’s immersed in her phone. He was the extended family I never had. I loved him, before I really loved him. And then he vanished. Just up and—poof—gone one night.

  Dad won’t tell me why. I blame myself. Why else would him leaving coincide with when Dad realised how I really felt about his best friend?

  “Done,” Kate announces, tossing her phone down. “He’ll meet us there if your dad doesn’t agree.”

  “Sweet.”

  She sighs, settling on her back once more. “Do you ever freak out a little at the fact school is almost over?”

  Yes. “No,” I lie, thankful for the change in topic.

  “Really?” She pauses, positioning her backpack above her head to block the sun from her eyes. “I do. I wonder if I’ll ever achieve anything great, you know? Like, will I be someone important, or will I just coast through life never really making a difference?”

  “You think too much,” I mutter, knowing exactly what she’s talking about. “What are you going to do anyway?”

  “Ugh,” Kate complains. “Dad wants me to go to Polytech. But I don’t know what I’d study.”

  “I thought you wanted to be a nurse?”

  “I do… sort of. I don’t know. The more I think about it the less I can make up my mind.” Kate rolls to her side as the rugby boys give up and jog past to head for the change rooms. “What about you? You never talk much about what you want to do after school finishes.”

  For good reason. People expect some grand dream when they ask you what your plans are: to travel the world as a humanitarian, study to be a doctor, or dive into the start of a great investment property portfolio. If you tell them that your dream involves eight hours a day permanently etching colour into a person’s skin… yeah. The comments aren’t usually all that supportive.

  “I have an idea,” I say. “But I want to look into it more before I commit.”

  “You’re not still obsessed with tattoos and shit, are you?” She crinkles her nose.

  “Nah. Something else.” Case and point.

  Why would she want to know a thing about the hours I put in studying artists I admire, sharing my designs on my Instagram page, when to her the dream is ridiculous? What the hell is it people find so trashy about being a tattoo artist? If it were that easy, anybody could do it. But it’s not, and I respect the hell out of the people I follow.

  Takes guts to permanently etch your art into somebody’s skin with the hope they’ll love it.

  Kate huffs, settling back as the bell sounds to signal lunch is over. “Damn it.”

  We each retrieve our bags, and I brush a few pieces of dry grass off Kate’s backside as we start toward the buildings. I love her to pieces, but at times I wonder if deep down we’re just too different. She loves school life, the drama and the social aspect of seeing the same people day in, day out. Whereas I can’t help but feel dread as I look up at the two-storey complex before us.

  I can’t wait to get out of this prison. I know what I want from life, and I want to be given the chance to get it. I’m ready to prove myself, and above all else, I’m ready to prove that I’m not a kid anymore.

  I’m Belle. Not John’s daughter. Belle.

  I want to be defined by more than just my age. I don’t want to be seen as a child anymore; I want to be recognised as a young woman.

  I want to be taken seriously.

  TWO

  Zeus

  “I guess you can take the dining set,” Jodie says with a sigh as she links her hands atop her head.

  I frown, frustrated how after everything we’ve been through I still get drawn to the way her tits push out when she stands like that. No matter how bad she burned me, I guess a part of me will never forget the way I loved her—once.

  “I don’t have anywhere to store it.” Let alone any use for it when it’s just me. “You put it in your new place until you get your own furniture.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  She drops her arms, her lips turned down as she looks across to where I stand leaning against the kitchen counter. “You haven’t even told me where you’ll go. Where are you planning on staying? You can’t crash at a motel forever; you don’t earn enough.”

  “With friends, I guess.” I didn’t tell her where I’d go because I don’t know. Fuck—until last week I thought we could work this shit out between us. But the more she pulled away as I reached for her at night, the more I knew there was nothing left in her heart for me.

  I’m all out of chances with her. All out of fucks to give, too.

  “As long as you have everything you need.” She glances at the meagre pile of boxes near the door. “I guess I better start getting ready to head out.” Her gaze snaps into focus as she lifts her head and starts for the bedroom.

  “Where are you off to?” I’m a sucker for punishment.

  “Oh, just a few drinks with the girls from work,” Jodie calls on her way down the hall. “We’re celebrating a birthday.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Yeah.” she says as I track her through the house to what was once our room. “It should be.” Her hands still in her hair, the long blonde locks falling over her shoulder as she smiles softly at me. “You should get out more, too.”

  Maybe when I can afford it. But unlike her, I don’t have years of savings from my work to fall back on. “Yeah. I should.” I thumb over my shoulder, doing everything I can to ignore the fact she openly undresses before me. “I’ll get this stuff in the car and head off. I’ve got something for you first, though.”

  “Really? Okay.” She pauses before the wardrobe in her lingerie. “I’ll come out to grab it from you once I’m dressed.”

  “Sure thing.”

  I back away, the feel of her curves burned in my brain despite the fact I haven’t touched the woman in months. Jodie is an attractive woman, stunning, which is why it’s no surprise she wasn’t short of offers when I went inside. I naively assumed that she’d be strong enough to resist, though. Yeah. Stupid.

  We fought about it, we made up—angry sex with hollow hearts—and we reached the point of no return. I had to get away. These fake niceties, this pretence of a mutual split… it’s killing me. She’s toxic, plain and simple.

  I hate her. I hate that I still love her even more, even if it’s not as a lover.

  The four boxes fit easily, side by side, on the back seat of the car
while I mentally bitch slap myself for being such a walkover. My life has been reduced to a handful of possessions, all of which have no sentimental value whatsoever. I made sure anything that held any connection to Jodie stayed with her. Why would I want reminders of how badly I fucked up while I start again? What kind of masochistic arsehole would willingly do that?

  I take the plain envelope off the front seat and head back toward the house, eager to wrap up the visit. My decision rests in the papers contained within, my standing on our relationship clear.

  It’s over for good. I don’t see this getting any better no matter how many times she tells me it’s just a matter of time, that we need space. She can say anything she wants and it doesn’t change the one thing that cemented my decision: she doesn’t say what she should.

  She never says “I love you” anymore.

  She hasn’t for years. I was just too blind to see it.

  “Oh, I was on my way out to find you,” she says as we meet at the corner of the hall.

  I let my gaze fall over the tight blue dress she wears, noting the way it hugs her every curve. “Saved you the trip.”

  “What’s that?” Her eyes drop to the envelope as her brow pinches.

  “A little something to say goodbye.”

  I hold steady as she reaches for the papers, and watch her slide a manicured nail under the lip. She billows the sides to slide the sheets of A4 out, her head tilting slightly to the side. The lawyer’s logo stands proud at the top of the page; the severity of my “gift” is undeniable.

  Her eyes track the words, her breathing picking up pace as she reads the formal documents.

  “You want a divorce,” she whispers with barely restrained anger. “Already?”

  “You know as well as I do that it’s over, Jodie.”

  “Fuck, Zeus.” She takes a step back, slumping against the wall as she reads the page again. “I mean….” She shakes her head, seemingly lost for words before she whispers with discontent, “Couldn’t you at least give the separation time? I thought it might have been a decision that was better to ease into, you know?”

  “Why drag out the inevitable?” I counter, the timbre of my voice rebounding off the walls. “You were the one who made the decision for us when you fucked him, Jodie. You could have walked away. You could have told me at your next visit, but no, you took the offer and jumped on the first hard dick that was swung at you after I was safely behind bars.”

  “Mince your words, why don’t you?” she seethes.

  “Fuck what words I use to share how I feel.” This woman…. The audacity of her to make out I’m the one who ruined us. “The pain you feel right now is nothing compared to how I felt when he told me what you two had done.” I shake my head and laugh. “Jesus. You’re my wife and you didn’t even have the guts to tell me yourself.”

  “I didn’t want to,” she admits, a hell of a lot more subdued.

  “You didn’t want to, or you didn’t think you’d have to?” I ask. “Hoped you’d get away with it, perhaps?”

  “Zeus,” she levels. “You’re not being fair.”

  “Life isn’t fair, Jodie. You of all people should understand that.”

  “You were in prison,” she whispers.

  “Exactly. In prison, not dead. I was coming home. I was always coming home to you.” I huff a heavy breath out my nose, taking a step back toward the door. “Not that it fucking matters now. I’m tired, Jodie. I’m done. Let’s just get this final bit over and done with and move on.”

  Tears wet her cheeks as I pause to really drill this moment into my memories. Every time a woman promises me her love, every time a woman tells me that I’m all there is for her, I want to remember this. I want a reason why I can never commit again.

  Fuck going through this a second time. Fuck having to do it once.

  “Enjoy your night out.” I open the door and make it as far as the front step before her deep sigh makes me hesitate.

  I turn, surprised to find her clutching the divorce papers as though they’re a shield. From what? Her truth? Our truth? Her shoulders rise and fall, her chin to her chest. I don’t need to see her face to know it’s bad.

  It’s always bad with my wife. Has been since I was released four months ago. One shit fucking revelation after another. Nothing surprises me anymore.

  “There was never any girls’ night out, Zeus.”

  Except maybe that. Proves there was never any love, either.

  “I’m going to dinner at the sports club with him, and then he’s asked me to spend the night at his place.” She lifts her chin, challenge in her eyes as she adds, “He wants me to move in with him, really make a go of this.”

  “And yet you had the fucking gall to stand there and have a go at me for bringing you the divorce papers?” I holler.

  She cowers as I march back into the house, stopping nose to nose with the bitch.

  “This has been coming for a long time.” Her words waver, her trepidation evident. “I didn’t want to turn down an opportunity at happiness if things with us didn’t work out.” She shakes the papers weakly between us. “And they haven’t, have they?”

  Some kind of sick pride swells within me knowing she still feels enough to be intimidated by me. Good. She should hurt. It’s about time the scales of pain tipped her way.

  “You might have known for a long time,” I say as I take a step back and look her over with disgust. “But for me, I loved you until the day you gave me reason not to.” More fool me. “I was loyal to you, Jodie. Always.”

  “I know.” She hangs her head as I turn for the door. “But you can’t blame me for the fact you were either too ignorant, or too stubborn to see that we weren’t meant to be.”

  “Can’t I?” If I remember right, it was her who first suggested marriage. “When did it stop?” I ask. “What was it that changed for you? When did you stop loving me, because you did love me once, right?” I turn at the door, one hand on the frame as I look to her, hopeful for just one small fucking olive branch.

  She frowns, swallowing hard.

  “When, Jodie?”

  Her lips part as she sucks in a heavy breath. “When you couldn’t give me the one thing I wanted.”

  Nothing I say right now could be good. Nothing I want to say is anything I will look back on without regret.

  So I stay silent. I stay silent as my wife walks back to the bedroom to finish getting ready to go fuck another man, and I stay silent as the divorce papers hit the floor in her wake.

  No wonder she didn’t want the dining table.

  THREE

  Belle

  “You’re bad,” Kate teases as we stroll up my driveway. “I can’t believe you’re skipping this exam, girl.”

  “It’s Biology,” I say with a laugh, pointing my finger at her. “You tell me how many people actually need Biology under their belt, and I’ll go.”

  “You have a point.” She shrugs.

  I smile as I dig my keys out of the bottom of my school bag, and then unlock the front door. “Have you figured out what you’re going to wear this weekend, yet?”

  “Ugh. No.” Kate walks inside and drops her things behind the sofa, flopping dramatically over the arm as I head for the kitchen.

  “Is that guy still coming?” He’s all she’s talked about this week after he apparently stayed the night at theirs on Sunday after one too many.

  “Brock. His name is Brock.” She sighs. “Even his name is sexy.”

  “Jesus, girl.” I laugh as I open the fridge. “Get a grip.”

  “Have you talked to Scott this week?” Kate calls from her position splayed out on the sofa cushions.

  “Briefly before we had our English exam together yesterday.” I stick my head around the dividing wall. “We exchanged numbers.”

  “You are so in, Belle.”

  Kate’s excitement is infectious, swirling in my gut as I pull two Cokes from the fridge. “I don’t know.” My insecurities strike the butterflies down one by one.
“As keen as he is, I don’t think he sees me like that, you know?”

  “Long-term?” She props herself up on her elbows as I enter the room.

  “Yeah.” I pass her drink over, and she twists to tuck her legs beneath her. “Should I feel bad if I’m just another conquest?”

  “You want long-term out of him?” she asks.

  “I don’t think so.” The condensation swirls beneath my finger as I trace the logo on the can. “He’s cute, but he’s not really my type.”

  “What is your type?” She frowns as she takes a sip.

  Tall, part-Polynesian, and about twenty years older. “I’m not sure. Maybe somebody who has his life a bit more together?”

  Kate chuckles, setting her drink down on the coffee table to shoot me an admonishing glare. “Babe, we’re eighteen. No guy our age has it together. Fuck, we don’t have it together.”

  Little does she know she’s struck the nail on the head. I want older. I want more mature. I want to thrive off a guy who’s left the experimental part of life behind. Someone I can be sure of and know I can depend on.

  “Well,” I announce, raising my can. “Here’s to getting our shit together.”

  She snatches hers up and clangs it against mine. “And to best friends.”

  I smile as I swallow the acidic drink. She is my best friend, the one person I can count on. My circle is small, and Kate has never given me reason to hate that.

  “What?” she asks as I continue to look at her.

  “Just thankful to have such a kick-ass bestie.”

  Kate knocks my arm. “You can’t get rid of me now. We’re like fucking Thelma and Louise, man.” Her eyes go wide as a playful smile parts her lips. “Hell. Promise me you won’t go driving us off a canyon or anything.”

  I laugh, catching my breath to reply, “I’d need a damn car to drive first.”

  She erupts into laughter, and yet my blood chills. Speaking of cars…. “Did you hear that?”

  The undeniable thump of a door sends us both scrambling. I sling her bag behind the TV cabinet and kick mine under the dining table as we slip and slide over the kitchen tiles toward the rear of the house. Kate crashes to a stop against my back as I brace in an X against the open hallway door.