Chapter Eighty-Seven

Havermouth, Five Years Before

Her parents weren’t home when Heath pulled up in the drive. Her relief was lost behind the urgency to collect what she needed and get out before they returned.

Heath stood in the front door, waiting whilst she collected everything that she thought she would need for a weekend away. She raided the kitchen cupboards, filling her bag with snack foods, as well as clothing and cosmetics. Heath did not rush her, but she felt like the contestant of a game show: How much can you stuff into one suitcase in fifteen minutes or less?

She felt as if she were packing, never expecting to return, but her destination wasn’t the happily ever after of a children’s movie, but rather the fade-out of grim adulthood.

She did not know what the courtesy was with finding the body of a child – was she supposed to dress for a funeral, or not? She went with something in between a funeral and church, and shoved a black dress and heels into the bag, in anticipation of the vigil the next night.

Should she buy flowers or a teddy bear or something?

Heath took the bag from her and pulled the door closed behind them, the snick of the lock seeming final.

She looked at him on an in-draw of breath.

“What?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. She shook off her forebodings and tucked her chin to her chest as she followed him, ignoring the flares of warnings that rose around her. If Rhett was the apple, she thought, as she sank into the front passenger seat of Heath’s car, she was Eve ignoring the warning that biting it would lead to the destruction of mankind.

Heath’s eyes went to his rear-view frequently during the drive, obviously seeking the other two cars of the Triquetra, and he laughed low as he headed down the bumpy drive towards the river house. “Bet them,” he told her.

“We skipped lunch and the last two periods,” she reminded him.

“So did they,” he said, with a certainty that made her wonder how connected they were, for he hadn’t called or said anything to Cameron or Rhett since their class together.

As they got out of Heath’s car, both Rhett’s sports car and Cameron’s Ute bounced up the drive at break-neck speed, pulling up with a spray of dirt to either side of Heath’s sedan.

Heath laughed, and moved forward to greet them, kissing both with tongue and an enthusiasm that spoke of the burden of maintaining the secrecy about their relationship, and how precious their time alone at the river house was. Aislen chewed her bottom lip as she thought about the equalizer and how important it was to them. Was it any wonder, she thought, that they had required it of her?

Cameron started a fire in the fire pit, and Rhett stripped out of his school uniform, stretching out in a delicious display of male skin and muscle. “Fuck, I love Fridays,” Rhett declared.

“Well, Aislen?” Heath raised his eyebrows. “Are you planning on wearing your school uniform all weekend?”

“No,” she flushed, knowing that she had been caught spying on Rhett. She stripped out of her school uniform and into the white bra and underwear set that Heath had dictated, holding the cloth to her body, feeling raw and uncertain. Heath took the clothes from her and stepped up onto the balcony, pausing and extending his hand.

“Come with me, Aislen,” he said softly.

She reached up and put her hand into his, letting him lift her up and draw her after him. He didn’t take her into the bedroom, but into the kitchen, which still held the remnants of the old cabinetry, three old wooden chairs with layers of chipped paint, and the free-standing farmhouse style sink.

There was a first aid box on a shelf, which he took down and riffled through before producing a tube of arnica cream. He sat on one of the chairs with his knees apart. “Come here,” he pointed to the floor between his feet. “This will help the bruises.”

His touch was gentle as he put on the cream. They both looked up as Rhett stepped into the doorway, catching the frame in his hands, and leaning in. He didn’t say anything, but watched as Heath finished. “Let that sit on the skin until it sinks in,” Heath told her, as she stepped away.

He washed his hands at the kitchen sink and put the cream and first aid box away. “Go see what Cameron is up to,” he said to her.

Rhett moved to the side so she could pass him. As she left, she saw Rhett go up to Heath and put his arms around him, rubbing up and down his back as Heath embraced him and lowered his face into Rhett’s shoulder.

Cameron was cooking sausages over the fire and looked up as she came over. “Hey,” he smiled. “Hungry?”

“I guess,” she avoided saying no.

“Where’s Heath and Rhett?” He wondered, looking past her at the house.

“In the kitchen.”

Cameron straightened and looked at her. “Aislen,” he said slowly. “You’re making this harder than you need to. You know that Heath didn’t mean for you to stop talking altogether to us, just to tone it down when we’re around others. You’re upsetting everyone.”

She looked out over the water. “I’m upsetting everyone,” she repeated under her breath.

Rhett and Heath came out of the house and stood on the balcony. Rhett gripped the balcony handrail tightly with both hands, looking down at where Aislen stood with Cameron, his expression bleak. Heath stood just behind him, his eyes on Rhett.

“Shit,” Cameron murmured. “What now?”

The question wasn’t answered as Heath and Rhett came down with forced smiles, and Cameron served sausages and salad for dinner. Aislen picked at hers until the Triquetra were done eating. “We’ll do the dishes,” Heath said to Cameron. “You and Aislen can use the shower first.”

“Thanks,” Cameron slung his arm over her shoulders. He pressed his face into her hair as they strolled up to the house, breathing in her scent, filling his lungs with it. His thoughts were concerned, worrying over what had occurred between Heath and Rhett in the house, and about Aislen. “You didn’t eat dinner.”

“I wasn’t hungry,” she shrugged off his arm as they entered the hallway. She didn’t want to hear his thoughts and she didn’t want to be touched.

“Aislen,” he caught her wrist and turned her, so that her back was against the wall. He leaned over her, his hand stroking her arm, and then through her hair, lifting her face to his. His blue eyes searched hers. “Snap out of it,” he said, with a hint of anger. “This is precisely the sort of shit that brought us to what happened yesterday. You fucking well know what we need from you, you’re just being fucking stubborn and denying it to us in every way that you can. How long do you think things can go on like this? Just, for once, get out of your own head and think of others. Look at how crummy you’re making us feel. It’s Friday night, and the weekend. We should be drinking and fucking and having a good time, and instead everyone’s all bleak and miserable.

“We’re going to fuck in the shower, and you’re going to love it,” he told her. “And then we’ll open some wine, and Heath and I will take body shots off you whilst Rhett licks you out. Then we’ll all get naked and fuck and drink ourselves stupid. Okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed, her body responding to the suggestion and his graphic imagination of how the night will go. Of the three, Cameron’s imagination was the most image-based, and it was his habit of visualizing his thoughts that Aislen had found so confronting when they’d met, but it was those same visualizations that turned her on, as well.

He inhaled and smiled. (Smells hot now, good job, Cam) He congratulated himself. “Let’s get wet and naked.”