This Cruel Love

“Haven’t you seen enough action this week?” he snapped.

“Jeez, chill. I’m only joking. You know you’re my number one too. No need to get jealous,” Cillian teased back.

“I’m not jealous. I’m tired of this whole wise-cracking jester act you’ve got going on.”

“Chill out, dude. Every straight man’s gotta have his comedy sidekick, and I’m yours.”

He nudged Jackson playfully, but he wasn

’t having any of it.

When we came to the top of the escalator, Jackson pushed past us, muttering to himself and walking off to the centre of the shop, getting some distance that he so obviously needed. I tried to ignore the growing tension, focusing on the clothes instead.

“What about this one?” Cillian held up a yellow dress with weird green and red tassels hanging off the shoulders. It looked like something a Grandma would wear.

“Eww, no. I’m seeing my boyfriend not the local vicar.”

“This one?” He picked a black leather-look mini dress up and smirked.

“Again, a day visit! Not a trip to the local strip club. Thanks though,” I said sarcastically, and carried on filing through the racks.

I couldn’t find a thing. It was a hopeless task and I felt mentally exhausted. I just wanted to get out of here and go home.

“What about this?” Jackson stood next to Cillian, holding up the cutest baby blue summer dress, with thin criss-cross straps and a delicate silver pattern embroidered along the bust. It was so me. I loved it.

“I suppose I could try it on.” I didn’t want to come across as too enthusiastic. Cillian was eyeing the dress and giving it his nodded approval.

“Now that is a Ryley dress,” he said and Jackson stifled a grin.

Why was he grinning? Did it please him to think he knew me so well? He didn’t. I wanted to tell him to shove his dress, that it was gross, but I couldn’t.

I tried it on, impressed that Jackson had even got my size right. Mind you, he’d got it right when he chose my dress for the gala the other night too. Maybe he knew more about fashion than he let on. Or more about me perhaps?

I flung the curtain back to see them both sitting in the waiting room chairs, looking awkward. Cillian whistled for the second time that day when he saw me, and Jackson went slightly flushed and kept his eyes on my face.

“Holy shit, Ryley. The rat’s gonna spend the whole visit hard as a fucking rock. Is it a conjugal visit?” Cill joked.

“Will you just shut the fuck up!” Jackson bit back, and Cillian laughed.

“Come on. Even you’ve gotta admit she looks hot.”

I wasn’t hanging around to hear the response. I spun round and headed back into the changing rooms. I’d get the dress. If that was the reaction these two gave it, then Justin would love it too.

My phone pinged with a text and I grabbed it out of my bag to see twelve missed messages. The girls had organised a Friday night out between them and were waiting for me to confirm I could make it too. What the hell. I wasn’t going to ask Jackson’s permission. This was my life and I needed a girlie night out. I texted back, telling them I couldn’t wait to see them Friday night, and the first round would be on me.

I’d forgotten how much fun it was to dance around the room, sipping wine, and listening to my favourite tunes as I got ready. The bubble of excitement in my stomach. The anticipation for what the night would bring. It was making me giddy. A girls’ night out was well overdue, that was for sure.

I felt like the worst friend ever for neglecting them since coming back from university. Everything with Justin’s addiction and now this deal with Jackson, it’d made me reluctant to reach out to them. They’d have given it to me straight, I knew that. They hated Justin almost as much as my parents did. Well, Daisy (my best friend since nursery) was a little warmer towards him than the others, but then Daisy never had a bad word to say about anyone. If they knew what he’d done. If they knew where he was and what I’d had to agree to in order to get him the help he so desperately needed, they’d have made me have my head checked. They certainly wouldn’t agree with it. So I decided that my current living situation would remain private. Nothing was going to sour this awesome mood I was in tonight.

I fluffed my blonde curls and checked my make-up in the mirror one last time. I twirled around to check my red dress was covering up enough of my ass, and pulled it down slightly. I don’t know why, because it kept riding back up anyway, but it was a nervous thing, I think. It felt weird going out and having fun, knowing Justin was locked up somewhere, having a shitty time and probably feeling like crap.

I couldn’t drink too much tonight, because tomorrow we were driving to the rehab centre to see him. I didn’t want to rock up stinking of booze and feeling queasy. Plus, I don’t think Jackson would appreciate having a puking woman in his car for the long drive up there. He was crabby enough in the morning as it was. I knew I needed a clear head to survive the few hours in the car with his sour face and snappy temper.

“You look nice.”

Wow! I couldn’t hide my shock at getting a compliment from the dark angel himself when I walked into the living area. It must’ve taken every ounce of politeness in him to tell me I looked ‘nice’.

He was sitting on the couch, watching a football game, but when his phone rang he jumped up like he’d been stung by a wasp.