Malaise Read online

  “Girls get raped in that fucking car,” I whisper yell, leaning in close to his musky scent.

  His eyebrows damn near shoot off his forehead. “What the fuck?”

  “Yeah, I heard the stories. And no, it wasn’t a rumour,” I argue defiantly. “Tennison Butler said that her sister’s car was tampered with and that that car came to help her jumpstart it, but the person driving it knocked her out fucking cold and dragged her in the back.”

  Carver snorts. “Seriously. You need to stop watching Ripley’s Believe It or Not before bed.”

  “Heard that Jacob Kluger’s sister was assaulted too.” I stick my nose up in the air, glaring at him. “Everyone knows that the driver of that car preys on women who’re stranded on the side of the road.”

  “Jesus, fuck,” he mutters, taking a hold of my sleeve. “Move.”

  I dig my heels in. “No.”

  “Move,” he repeats more forcefully, yanking me toward the car.

  My heart rate spikes; I can’t die out here. I hyperventilate as he shoves me toward the open door, forcing my head down with his large hand so I don’t smack it on the roof. I close my eyes tight as I spill over the wide back seat, his body heat following me in before the door slams shut and the light goes off. Fuck, I should have blown him off back at the log, lost myself in the crowd sooner.

  “Open your eyes, you fucking moron.” There’s a lilt of humour in Carver’s voice. “You really are still pissed as a newt, huh?”

  Why isn’t the car moving yet? I roll awkwardly on the seat so I’m sitting up, doing everything I can to avoid putting pressure on my bad arm. Left eye first; I crack it open and locate his shoulder inches from my face.

  “Hi,” he teases. “You done being a melodramatic fool yet?”

  “Are you going to rape and kill me?”

  He sighs and drops his head back on the seat as I crack my right eye open. “Babe, if I wanted to do that you’d be in twenty pieces in the fucking forest by now.”

  I search his face for a hint of truth to that statement and come up blank. He looks like he’s kidding given the tilt of his lips, but those eyes lock on to me with unwavering intensity. This could go either way. Why did I trust him so freely?

  “They all this crazy?” a female voice sings out from the front seat.

  I open my eyes properly and look toward the driver seat to find a white-blonde woman in a skintight tank and leather pants, sitting with her left hand resting on the gear stick.

  Her amused blue eyes find mine, and she twists around to stick out a ruby-red-tipped hand. “Hi. I’m Tanya.”

  I opt out of shaking her hand in case this is still some sort of trap to force my guard down, and lift my palm in a quick wave instead. “Meg.”

  “Figured that.” She winks, and then turns to Carver. “Where we off to, bro?”

  “A&E.” He thumbs my way. “Overly Suspicious here decided she needed a memoir to remember this night by and scorched herself in the bonfire.”

  Tanya tuts as she shifts the Falcon into gear.

  The car idles forward, and Carver reaches for the handle above his door. “Hold on.”

  Before I can register exactly what to, I’m lurched against my door as Tanya plants boot and spins the tail end of the car around on the dirt road. She whips it straight and drops her lead foot back onto the accelerator, sending us flying down the country road with headlights that are way too dim for these kind of speeds.

  “I’ll let you blink if you like,” Carver says with an amused tone.

  I snap my dazed gaze away from the clouds of fog over the road that vanish as the car ploughs through them, and twitch an awkward smile at him.

  “We’ll get you looked at, and then I’ll get Tanya to take you home.”

  “You don’t need to do that. Honestly. Just drop me off at the doors; I’ve already taken up enough of your night.”

  He lays a casual arm over my shoulders, as though it’s no big deal, and tugs me across the vinyl seat to his side. “Rubbish. You’re the most fun I’ve had for a while. Beats going home and finishing getting rat-faced with the extended family.”

  “Hey!” Tanya protests from the front.

  “No offence, sis, but you and your crew….” He sucks in a breath between his teeth, making a hissing noise. “Get you lot on the turps and it’s like listening to a fucking henhouse with a fox in it.”

  She laughs loud and genuinely at his criticism, and strangely it relaxes me. They clearly share a light and easy relationship—something I once had, too.

  Crisp pine-laced air filters through the car’s vents as I begin to recognise the outskirts of town out my window. Thoughts of Den, memories of the crazy antics we’d gotten up to over the years, multiply in my mind like photos shaken out of a box. I try in vain desperation to push them back, hide them away until I’m somewhere more private, but his face won’t relent.

  He’s there, smiling, laughing at me for being “such a Muppet,” as he used to say. My eyes burn and my nostrils flare like crazy as I work to supress the emotions that bubble over. Strain causes my throat to burn, and my shoulders give an involuntary shudder. Once the first wave ripples through me, there’s no holding it back. My entire upper body shakes, and a spluttered whimper bursts from my lips.

  “Hey,” Carver coos, pulling me tighter. “Take it a day at a time. Before you know it, you’ll look back on how you handled this and laugh.”

  “I hope so,” I mumble.

  Tanya’s kohl-lined eyes flick up to the rear-view. “Is she okay?”

  “Brother died today,” Carver answers simply. No beating around the bush here.

  “Oh, baby girl,” she whispers, returning her gaze to the road. “I’m sorry.”

  I snap. The love between these two, and the selfless compassion they’re showing me—it’s too much. By the time we pull up outside the emergency room I’m a wailing, hyperventilating, snot-bubble-covered mess in the arms of a total stranger who’s slowly becoming everything that’s right in my world.

  FIVE

  Six hours in a hospital will do wonders when it comes to sobering up—literally and emotionally. By the time we emerge from the ER with my burn bandaged and a paper bag of painkillers clutched in the crook of my good arm, I’m sober as a nun, but with a tongue that could sand wood smooth.

  “How you doing, trooper?” Carver smiles down at me as we walk through the dim car park towards the Falcon. Tanya swaggers ahead of us on heels that are ridiculously high for how aggressively she drove earlier. Probably took a bit of practice.

  “Felt better.”

  “The codeine should kick in soon and you’ll be able to get to sleep at least, rest it off.”

  “I didn’t mean my arm,” I say with a shake of my head. We stop while Tanya unlocks the car. “I walked out on my parents when they broke the news, and now I’ve been gone all night.”

  “You could have called them if you thought they’d be worried.”

  Thanks for that nugget of truth. I could have—he’s right—but for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to try and explain this all over the phone; why I need to be as far from them as possible while I come to terms with Den’s death. “Doesn’t matter now anyway. I’ll be home soon.”

  “You want company while you talk to them?”

  I glance up at him from my position half in the car, hand on the door. “No offence or nothing, but I think you turning up after I’ve been off the radar all night might be a bit too much.”

  He takes the insult in good heart and nods as we get ourselves comfortable in the back. I find something to hold on to, my lesson about Tanya’s driving well and truly learnt from the ride here. Apparently cars didn’t need to have seat belts installed pre-80s. Fun.

  As it turns out, my fears are unjustified and her erratic rally style must be reserved for emergencies only. We pull up alongside the kerb, my parents’ house looming over the idling car. I glance out at the drawn curtains, tempted to ask my ride to just carry on, to get me a
s far away from the reality of it all as possible.

  “Come on,” Carver urges. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  Tanya picks her phone up from the centre console and busies herself, effectively giving us as much privacy as she can muster while being cooped up in the same car. I glance over at the social outcast beside me who’s done nothing but be kind and helpful to a complete stranger all night long, and falter. What can I say to him? Thank you doesn’t seem like enough.

  He opens the door and steps out onto the sidewalk, appearing much more menacing now that he wears only his leather jacket over his bare chest; the T-shirt is a damp ball in the foot well of the car. I get out behind Carver and draw a deep breath, the sweet scent of the roses next door only serving to sadden me more. I never thought a flower could hold so much of my heart, but the memories that are attached to that smell are bittersweet now that I’ve lost both people I associate with them: Mr Clavers, and now Den.

  “You got a key to get in, or do you need to wake them up?” Carver studies the house, a frown on his face as he jams both hands in his jeans’ pockets.

  “I’ve got a key.”

  The uneven scrape of the car window as Tanya winds it down by hand has me turning back to the Falcon. She jerks her head to indicate I should step closer. I bend at the waist to come eye level with her and see inside the low vehicle.

  “You’re good people, Meg.” She reaches a hand through the window and takes one of mine. “If you need anything, you let us know. Shit’s going to get hard, real hard, and you’ll have those days when you want to flip a middle finger to the world. And that’s okay. Just don’t make yourself do it alone.” She tips her chin toward Carver. “Get that big lug to give you his number so you can message us when you need anything.” She dips her chin and raises both eyebrows. “And I mean anything, okay?”

  I nod, warmed and equally as uneasy at her act of sheer kindness. “Sure.” I’ve only known these two for a few hours, but already they’ve given me more comfort than my parents could manage combined.

  “Brett!” Carver walks over at the sound of his name.

  Brett. Carver suit him better.

  “Give the girl your number so she can call us if she needs anything.”

  He holds out a hand for my phone. Déjà vu hits me square in the face, only this time I feel somewhat more comfortable with the dance than I did with Jasper. I pass my phone over and watch the tall, dark mystery as he enters his digits.

  Tanya taps me on the hip to grab my attention. “Give us a call next weekend, yeah? There’s a tattoo convention on in town I was going to check out, and some company other than the regulars would be cool.”

  I take my phone back and offer a shrug. “It sounds like fun, but I can’t promise how I’ll be feeling.” I swallow down the lump wedged in my throat. “Plus, I’m not sure when Den’s funeral is yet.”

  “Shit, yeah. Of course.”

  Carver’s hand rests on my shoulder. “Come on. I saw the curtains shift so I think the jig is up.” Doesn’t matter that I know his real name now, he’s always going to be Carver to me.

  Tanya winds her window up as I walk up the path with her brother by my side. The two of them are chalk and cheese, and if I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have picked them as related. He’s tall and built, yet she’s short and petite. He’s all sharp angles and harsh lines, whereas Tanya’s all perfect skin and curves in the right places.

  I feel around in the front pocket of my bag for the key while Carver stands off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest. His face is drawn after a long night at the hospital, his eyes a little bloodshot. His once spiked Mohawk sits haphazardly, half in his eyes as he pushes out his bottom lip to blow it out of the way. God only knows what I look like after a full night of unplanned shenanigans.

  “I guess thank you is in order,” I say as I slot the key in the lock. “But it doesn’t seem enough.”

  He pushes off the front wall and takes a step toward me. “Hey, you don’t have to say anything.”

  “I do,” I insist, hesitating with the handle turned. “You didn’t have to call Tanya, or help me out at the bonfire. Shit, you didn’t even have to say hello to the sad girl on the log, but you did, and….” Damn the recurring restriction in my throat. “And it meant a lot.”

  He takes me by surprise and reaches out a hand to run his fingers in a gentle sweep along my jaw. “You’re a strange creature, Meg, but I like you.” An awkward moment passes with me stunned silent, my hand still on the door, before he turns and jogs down the porch steps.

  I step inside, head spinning from more than just my burgeoning hangover, and pause when he calls up the path, “Don’t forget to ring next weekend, even if you are busy with… you know.”

  Shell-shocked by the man who’s just made himself a fixture in my life, I watch as he ducks his large frame into the front passenger seat of the Falcon. Tanya starts the engine, and as they pull away, Carver throws a hand out the window to wave over the roof.

  I close my eyes, the pain so real at having to let go of a night of distraction and enter back into the fresh hell that awaits me. My breaths come steady and even as I do my best to prime myself for the inevitable. Ten, nine, eight, seven—

  “Where the hell have you been?” Dad’s low question resonates off the walls of the entrance and shakes its way through my skin to settle deep in my bones.

  “Out.” I open my eyes and murmur, “I’m ready to talk now.”

  SIX

  A shift took place last night. Not only in myself, but also in our family. Mum sits across from me at the dinner table, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. Her normally bright face is drained and pale, and her eyes have a permanent red puffiness underneath them.

  Mum and Dad were good enough to let me shower this morning before we sat down to talk, only offering a grunt in response when I said I’d explain the bandage on my arm after. Neither one of them said a thing about the fact that they woke me up in Den’s bed after I’d called a timeout when I arrived home so I could crash for a bit.

  Dad stands at the stove, a stack of pancakes beside him. He only cooks when he’s conflicted. The last time I saw him make us all breakfast he was trying to decide if he should accept a job offer or not.

  I walk my fingertips along the handle of my fork and rest my face in the opposite hand. Mum sighs unnecessarily loud and twists her body away from me as she has a sip of her hot drink, ironically housed in her Little Miss Sunshine mug. I glance at her from under my lashes and scour the details of her face, her body language, and wonder if I’ll ever again know the woman she was when I left for school yesterday.

  “I’m sorry we took our anger out on you, Megan,” Dad starts. He still faces the stove. “It was unfair and probably no wonder that you reacted the way you did.”

  “But you should have called,” Mum snaps. “I was worried sick. You left in such a bad mood; there was no telling what you went off to do. And when I heard about the river party that got shut down—”

  “They shut it down?”

  “Focus on what’s important, Megan,” she shouts. Her eyes bore holes through me, and I sink down into my chair, spinning the fork under my hand.

  “When I heard about that, and you still didn’t come home….” She trails off as tears well in her eyes, but unlike for Den, she doesn’t let them flow for me. “I feared the worst.”

  “I needed time to process everything.”

  “Who were the people who dropped you off?” Dad questions as he sets the pancakes down in the centre of the table.

  “Friends.”

  “How come we’ve never seen them before, then?” Mum grills.

  I shrug. “I guess you’ve never taken interest.” If they did, they’d know that it wasn’t just a lie that Tanya and Carver are regular friends, but that I have any at all. If they did take notice of their only daughter, they’d know she was the school loner.

  “They looked a little rough,” Dad states carefully.
“I’m sure I’ve seen that car at the Carver property before.”

  “So what if you have?” I don’t mean for it to come out bitchy, but what’s said is said.

  “I’d appreciate if you could tone down your temper for this conversation, Megan.” He lances me with a warning stare before stabbing two pancakes on his fork and transferring them to his plate. “We all got off on the wrong foot last night, and we’re in new territory here. So how about we work as a team to get through this, not fight one another?”

  He’s so right that it hurts. Here we are bickering about who it was that I came home with when the heart of the matter sits unanswered. “When do you confirm it’s him?” I ask.

  “We did it last night,” Mom answers in monotone syllables. “That was why I tried to call you; to take you with us to see him.”

  If it were possible for my chest to implode into a black hole for my soul, I think it might have just done so. My lungs hurt, and my head pounds from the pressure of regret rather than too much alcohol last night. I can’t redo this. There’s no winding back the clock to go say goodbye to Den privately.

  “Do we get to see him at the funeral home before everyone comes?” I need to know this isn’t it—that my selfish behaviour hasn’t taken something so pivotal from me.

  “We’ll have a private viewing before the main function, yes.” Dad hesitates, pushing his pancake around the plate with his fork. “It’ll be a closed casket for the service though.”

  Jesus. How bad was he? “Was he… was he killed instantly? Do they know?” Visions of that afternoon on the sidewalk as kids—Den’s blood everywhere—return thick and fast. To think he suffered… how am I supposed to just sit here and eat if that’s true?

  “They can’t be sure, but they’re relatively certain it was quick given the extent of his head injuries.” Dad’s gaze is fixed on his plate.

  “They think he didn’t have his helmet on,” Mum whispers with a regretful look in her eye. She stares out the kitchen window at the branches of the Japanese Silk tree swaying in the morning breeze. “They can’t be sure, but given it wasn’t near him when the paramedics arrived, they assumed it mustn’t have been affixed.” She sighs, and voices what I’m sure we’re all thinking. “It’s so unlike him, though.”