Three Hearts One Soul (The Soul Series #1) (11 page)

“Oh Nev.”
My father whispers, coming into the room once he’s seen the ambulance out.

He drops down beside me and grips my arm, stopping my crazy scrubbing. I fight him, shoving him away. “I need to clean it, I need to…”

“Nev, baby, come on.”

“I have to clean it, I have to…”

“Nev, look at me.”

He grips me and tears the towel from my hands. He spins me around, wrapping his arms around me and holding me as I fight him. I squirm and struggle but he just holds me there, taking care of me even though I don’t deserve it. This is my fault, I don’t deserve the comfort. My dad lifts me, forcing me out of the bathroom. He leads me to my bed and forces me to sit down.

“Breathe, Nev, come on baby, breathe.”

I try to do as he asks, but my phone ringing snaps my focus. I stare down at the screen, unknown
number, maybe it’s the ambulance officers, or Jase’s parents. I reach for it, I don’t want to miss a phone call that could tell me what’s happening with Jase. My father tries to grip it, but I snatch it away before he can, pressing it to my ear and rasping a hello.

“Nevaeh?”

Whiskey. Again. My anger gets the better of me and I lose it.

“What do you want, you selfish piece of shit. Do you know why I was ringing you? Do you? Your brother is dying you dead beat. He’s fucking dying. You don’t deserve him.” I scream.

The phone line is silent, so silent I wonder if he hung up before I even got my little spiel out.

“What?” he whispers.

“Go to hell Whiskey, you…”

My father snatches the phone from my hands and leaves the room, I hear him say Whiskey’s name but then I don’t hear anymore. I stand, anger bursting through my veins. I pick up the nearest vase and hurl it across the room. It smashes on a nearby wall and little pieces cover the carpet. I drop to my knees and grip my hair, screaming and snarling until my father comes back in.

“Stand up, now,” he orders.

“Go away, daddy.”

“Stand up, Nevaeh!”

His tone has me slowly picking myself up. When I’m on my feet, he grips my shoulders and shakes me a little.

“Snap out of it, you need to be strong for him right now.”

“It’s my fault!” I scream.

“It’s not your fault.”

“You don’t understand, he had an attack because…because…we had sex.”

My father goes quiet and I don’t dare look up at his expression. Not only am I embarrassed, but I’m ashamed I let Jase do something he is clearly too sick for.

“It’s not your fault
, Nev, ok?”

“How can you say that?” I cry.

“Come on, we can’t think of this now. This isn’t your fault, you have to focus on him. He needs you.”

“Can you take me to the hospital?” I whisper.

“Of course, come on.”

My father leads me out to his car and helps me in. When we begin the drive, I turn to him and in a croaky voice I ask.
“Whiskey?”

“He was
devastated, he said he’d try as hard as he could to get home.”

I snort. “He’ll try. His brother is dying and he’ll try.”

My father sighs. “I get the feeling Whiskey is in a lot of trouble, Nev, I don’t think it’s easy for him to just show up.”

“It’s his brother!” I cry.

“Why are you so angry about it?”

“Because Jase will die without getting to say goodbye, he deserves a dammed goodbye daddy.”

“He does…or you do?”

I gape at him. “What?”

“I know you and Whiskey didn’t end well.”

“There was nothing to end, nothing!”

“You and I both know that’s a lie Nev, you loved that boy.”

“I loved them both.”

“In different ways.”

I growl and slap the window. “I wish people would stop saying that. I love Jase too, daddy. I don’t love Whiskey more, right now I hate Whiskey. I hate him.”

“Ok Nev,” my father sighs. “Ok.”

I turn back to the window and stare out, focusing on calming my breathing. I don’t love Whiskey, it’s not me I want him back for…is it?

Chapter 8

Jase is in surgery for the next eight, long hours. We all sit, quietly, unable to think of anything else. Was that the last moment we all had with him? Would he die now? Would he never get his goodbye, to any of us? Would it be all my fault? I can’t feel my father’s hand as he holds on to mine, we’re all just waiting, just hoping and waiting that he makes it through. God please, let him make it through. My eyes blur as exhaustion takes over, but I can’t sleep, not until I know if he’s ok.

When a Doctor finally comes out, early the next morning, we all leap to our feet. He gives us a weak, tired smile and indicates that we should all sit. We do and I listen as he speaks. His words don’t sink in right away, because all I can hear is a faint buzzing in my ears.
That and the pounding of my heart. I can feel my heart in every part of my body as it pumps angrily. Is this all my fault? Should I have just said no? Did I hurry up the inevitable?

“Jase was in a bad way, he was bleeding badly. We opened him up and did all we can, but we’ve had to remove more of his lung. He’s going to need to be on constant oxygen. I’m sorry, but the cancer has spread far further than we thought. Jase has a matter of weeks left, if he’s lucky. I’m so sorry.”

Katie wails loudly and John puts his head in his hands.

“Is this my fault?” I whisper.

The Doctor turns towards me. “How would it be your fault?”

I swallow and stare over at John and Katie, before looking back at the Doctor.

“Well…I…we…before he had the attack we…we had sex.”

“What?” Katie screams, standing.

My father stands, putting up his hands. “Back off Katie.”

“He wanted to…before he…and I said yes. I thought…I didn’t know…”

The Doctor touches my arm. “Look, the exertion could have ruptured something in his weak lungs, but it would have happened soon regardless. Jase is dying, things like this will happen more and more. There’s nothing we can do to avoid it, we can only do the best we can to make him comfortable.”

He pats my hand and turns to walk away. Katie turns on me, her eyes wild. I don’t blame her really, how can I? If that was my son, I would be furious at the girl who hurried along the process of him being taken from her. I watch as she stalks closer, her brown eyes flaring with emotion and rage. She’s looking for someone to blame for all this, it’s a natural process when someone you love is dying, and I just gave her a reason to blame me. Well, if I hadn’t accepted Jase’s offer, we wouldn’t be here right now, so I deserve what’s coming from her.

“This is your fault?” she cries. “You knew he wasn’t up to it, but you did it anyway.”

“I didn’t know!” I whisper, it’s the only defence I have. “He said he was ok…”

“You’re a nurse!” she screams.

“Enough!” My father barks.

“Yes, enough Katie, it’s not her fault,” John says, reaching out for his wife, but she slaps his hand away so angrily he reels back in shock.

“It is her fault! My boy is going to die and it’s all her fault.”

She turns and rushes from the room and I turn and rush the other way. My father calls out to me, but I can’t think. I am running down the halls so fast I don’t see the person entering the hospital when I slam into him. I just run into a hard, large chest. A set of hands go up and catch my shoulders, stopping me from knocking him over. I leap backwards, mumbling an apology when I hear that voice.

“Heaven?”

Heaven. Only one person calls me Heaven. No…no…he’s not here. Not that quickly. I look up and feel my breath wheeze out as I take in the man before me. It takes me a moment to recognize him, so much has changed. Whiskey was always gorgeous, he always had that bad boy look but now…he is the
meaning
of bad boy. He’s wearing a dark grey shirt that stretches across his chest. A set of black jeans cling to his bottom half and he has a thick leather jacket on, as well as heavy black boots. A chain hangs from his jeans and his boots have large silver buckles.

His body is twice the size that I remember, like he’s been working out seriously hard. His shoulders are broad, his chest is wide and his waist is narrow and well defined. His fingers have skull rings, his forearms are laced with tattoos. When I finally get to his face, I gasp.
The same brown eyes that I remember, but that’s it. His once short, messy dark hair is now longer, curling around his chin in a thick mane. His jaw is chiselled, his lips fuller, his eyes darker. A thick silver chain sits around his neck and I can see a tattoo peeking out of his shirt. He has pointy bars hanging from one of his ear lobes.

Frozen in the spot for a moment, I forget where I am and what’s happened. When I remember why I am here and how angry I am, I reach up and I punch Whiskey so hard in the jaw he stumbles backwards. My hands ball into tiny fists as I lurch forward for round two. A nurse rushes over from the front desk and pulls us apart, yelling at me to stop. Whiskey snarls a curse and then yells, “Nev, what the fuck?”

“You piece of shit!” I scream. “You don’t deserve him. You don’t deserve anybody. I hope you rot in hell, it’s you who deserves to be in that bed, not him.”

Then I turn and run out the front doors, unable to deal with any of this for much longer. There’s only so much one person can take. I can’t take anymore. I just can’t. I need a way to escape it for just a moment. I need to let my guard down. I just need to stop feeling this gripping pain in my chest so I can breathe for one, small moment. So, I head to the one place I know will make me feel better, even if it’s not done in the right way.

The pub.

~*~*~*~*

“Whoa, Nev honey, slow down.” Tanya says, gripping my arms.

I called Tanya when I found the nearest local Pub, needing someone to talk to. Being the amazing person she is, she stopped what she was doing and came down to meet me. Four shots and three beers later, and
I’m officially numb. What can I say? I’m hurting, angry, ashamed and guilty. I couldn’t go home and face my father, and I couldn’t go to the hospital and face Whiskey. So I went to Tan, knowing she would give me what I needed right now, just a moment to process. So here we are, drunk and giggling and it’s not even ten in the morning. Very stylish.

“I don’t
wanna slow down,” I slur.

“Honey, you have to go home soon. You know Dave can’t let us keep drinking here.”

Dave is the owner of the bar and owed Tan a favour so she called it by asking him to let us in so we could have a few drinks before opening time. He did it, obviously because he has a massive crush on Tanya but she doesn’t see it, damn woman is blind. She really is. We’ve been here a few hours now, and I know we’re pushing it. Dave could probably get into trouble for this and that’s not what either of us want. He’s a nice man.

I wave a drunk, pitiful hand in her face. “Fine, we’ll go and keep drinking somewhere else.”

She gives me a painful look, full of sympathy. I hate when people look at you like that, as if you’re a charity case needing help.

“You have to go home eventually,” she says, touching my arm.

I grunt. “What for? To face the anger waiting for me, or perhaps the extremely hot bad boy that I don’t want to see.”

“You have to think about Jase.”

I growl at her, yes, growl. “I was thinking about Jase, when I nearly killed him!”

“It wasn’t your fault, you both made a choice, it was what he wanted.”

“I shortened his life!” I cry, taking another burning shot of tequila.

“You’re a
nurse, you know that’s not true.”

“It is true!” I cry hysterically, I blame the alcohol. “It’s my fault.”

I hiccup and then begin giggling. My moment of sadness didn’t last long, I blame that on the alcohol too, well, it’s easier to blame the alcohol for my psychotic mood swings then to blame reality. Tanya sighs and wraps her arm around me, pulling me to my feet.

“I’m taking you home.”

“Whatever,” I slur.

She manages to get me outside and into a taxi. She hits the roof of the taxi and gives him my address, before looking over at me.

“Go home, go to bed. I’m coming over later to talk to you, ok?”

“Thanks Tan, I love you!” I cry.

She chuckles then turns to the taxi driver. “Get her home safely.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The entire ride home, my head swims. When I get to my unit, I see two cars and a Harley Davidson. I stumble out of the taxi and toss him a fifty before making my way, very slowly, to the front door. I open it and stumble inside with a loud giggle, when I get it closed, after a few failed attempts, I turn and see four faces staring at me from the kitchen table.

“Well if it isn’t the perfect police,” I say, waving my drunken hands around to indicate the people sitting at my table.

I let my eyes scan over Katie, John, my dad and…

“What the fuck is he doing here?” I snarl, letting my gaze settle on Whiskey.