Throwing my head back on my pillow, the sweat starts to seep from my pores, and I instantly regret the action. My stomach gurgles and bile rises in my throat. Having no option, I fling the covers off me and slam into the bathroom, reaching the toilet just in time. I stay clinging to the bowl for dear life, as last night’s alcohol re-emerges with a vengeance. I feel as rough as a badger’s arse.

After what seems like forever I get up and head down into the kitchen. I must be still wasted. I have absolutely no coordination and bang into everything in sight. Hanging my head over the kitchen sink, I turn on the cold tap and let it run before sticking my whole head under the flow. I leave it there a few moments, hoping the cold will numb my splitting headache. I grab the nearest towel and bury my face in it. After drying myself up, I turn and lean against the counter, only to find a fresh-faced Bear grinning at me from the doorway.

“Feeling better?” the sarcastic bastard asks me. He must have heard me praying to the porcelain gods.

“Yeah, I feel great, mate,” I answer sarcastically. “I always love the feeling of being run over by a ten tonne truck. It starts my day off great.”

After the years of practice I’ve had, I hoped I’d grown out of hangovers, but I think they are steadily getting worse. Hair of the dog; that’s what’s needed. I stalk over to the fridge and start rummaging through it. I’m sure there’s beer in here somewhere.

“I see someone’s woke up a little grumpy this morning.” He’s looking for a rise from me and to be quite honest I can’t be arsed. I feel like death, so I scowl at him instead. I find what I’m looking for and pull a can out of the fridge, but before it can be opened Bear has swiped it out of my hand.

“No fucking way. You aren’t going down that route again,” he snaps at me.

“Who are you, my fucking keeper?” My temper rises, the elephants are getting louder, and my whole body shakes from the alcohol still raging in my system. I want to rip his head from his shoulders and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.

“Get your shit together, Noah. I’m not picking that roadkill off the ground again.” He scowls at me. “Lizzie’s not even around and look at the state of you. God knows what you’d do to yourself if you ever saw her again. I let you have last night, but that’s it. You’re not doing it again. I won’t fucking let you. You shagging around no one gives a shit about, but this? Not a chance in hell, mate. You almost destroyed yourself last time. Get. A. Fucking. Grip.” His teeth clench and his lips fall into a hard line.

Reality slaps me in the face. The anger, which coursed through my veins like magma, has rushed from my body, and my shoulders slump in defeat. Weakness overtakes my muscles and I can barely stand, the anger taking all my energy, leaving me with nothing. Bear’s right. I need to get myself together, but nothing affects me like Lizzie. I thought I’d banished her to the far regions of my memory, locked her away, never to see the light of day. But with Layla coming around everything’s messed up. My internal filing system has been ransacked, and my personal papers are strewn all around the floor in chaos.

I’m kidding myself. She was never banished. Every minute of every hour Lizzie is in my thoughts. When I walked out the door I ripped out my heart, and for every moment since I’ve slowly lost another part of me. I’m so fucking empty without her, and I can’t find my way back to even half full. I didn’t fight for her, for us. I’ve played that day over in my head a million times, and every time I keep coming back to those stormy eyes. She pushed me away with words, but her eyes told me something entirely different, and I didn’t see clearly when I needed to the most.

I need to talk to Layla. I need to find out exactly what’s going on. That’s if she’s willing to talk to the complete psycho she met yesterday.

Lost in my own head, I hadn’t noticed Bear had left the room. I mentally pick myself up and head off into the lounge to find him.

“You’re right, man, I’m being a dick.” I drop my shoulders in defeat.

“Yeah, too right, you are.”

“I need to go over to the workshop to see Spud. Layla looked like she left him with her contact info, you coming?” I ask.

He nods at me. “I’ll always have your back, mate, but do you think dragging yourself over hot coals is going to do you any good?”

“There’s only one way to find out.” I slap him on the back and we turn and head out the front door. “But you better drive.”

BEAR AND I ride over to the shop in silence, and when we arrive I’m thankful Spud’s van is outside. As we walk in we’re met by the usual strains of rock music. At least today he’s playing it a few decibels less than ear-shattering.

Spud pops his head out from under a blue Mustang. “Wondered how long it would take you. It’s on your desk.”

“What is?” I try to play innocent, but it doesn’t sit right; I’m far from that.

“No need to play coy with me, mate, I’m a sure thing.” He bats his eyelashes at me, chuckles, and slides back under the car. I head off into my office. But I come to an abrupt stop as soon as I walk in the door. My sight hones in on my desk and Bear slams into my back.

“What the fuck, mate?” he splutters.

“What if she’s in trouble?” I stare at the harmless business card lying on my desk like it’s diseased, afraid to touch it.

“Why would she be in trouble?” Bear asks, whilst pushing me forward to make room for him to enter my office.

“Why would she just disappear without a word if she wasn’t?”

“Stop answering questions with more questions, and keep in mind she’s a woman. You know they’re a law unto themselves.”

He’s right. I know he’s right, but the uneasy feeling creeping up my spine and into my bones isn’t convinced.

I’m still stuck to the floor, motionless, and eyeing the card. Bear looks at me, huffs, and picks it up. I snatch it out of his hands and glare at it some more. Interior designer. That figures.

Bear groans and rubs a hand around the back of his neck. “For fuck’s sake, Noah, call the woman.”

An hour later we are both in some posh coffee shop in the centre of town. It’s where Layla wanted to meet. I suspect she thought I wouldn’t turn psycho in a public place.

She doesn’t know me very well.

We’re halfway down our coffees when she arrives and joins the coffee queue. She assesses me from the counter before turning her attention on Bear. Her eyes widen a fraction and rake over him. Her whole body tenses, but a hungry look flares in their depths. Her eyes flick back to mine, but lose the heat. The amused smile on my face must ease some tension and her shoulders relax.

She walks up to the barista and orders a mocha-choca-latte, whatever that shit is. After getting her drink she slides herself into the seat opposite us. The girl behind the counter glares at Layla’s back. I’d watched her approving gaze on us earlier. The petty jealousy makes me chuckle.

The sound dies on my lips as Layla pins me with her eyes. They’re tormented, and full of anxiety. I hadn’t seen it yesterday, but here and now, they glare at me like a distress flare in the darkness. Anguish grips my stomach. I swallow deeply, trying to keep down what’s left of its contents.

“Layla, this is ‘Bear,’ or Ted, if you prefer. He can perhaps help.”

I sense Bear shift in his seat.

She turns to him, her head dips a fraction in acknowledgement, and her face flushes. The spark is visible in her eyes again, but she shuts it down just as fast as it appeared. Her attraction to Bear is obvious, but the worry she’s displaying must override it. I take in her emotion with interest but it doesn’t make me feel any better, just a hell of a lot worse.