Deep Water by Mark Ayre (best big ereader TXT) 📕

distraction," said Abbie. "It stops you from grieving and processing your loss, both of which are vital if you're to reclaim any kind of life."

Ollie was still staring. Abbie hadn't released his shoulder. Within her grasp, he seemed to find strength.

"I don't know that Louis killed Aurora," he whispered.

"I know you don't," said Abbie, "and that's okay."

Ollie bowed his head and cried quietly for almost a minute, then did something Abbie didn’t expect. As he had yesterday, in the shopping centre, he threw himself at her. Instead of punching and kicking, he put his head on her chest and swung his arms around her body.

It took a few seconds for Abbie to realise this wasn't an attack but a hug.

"It's okay," she said, awkward but forcing herself to put her arms around him. She wasn't great with affection. "It's going to be okay."

"I blamed Jacob," Ollie said into Abbie's tee, onto which he was also crying. "Mum's going after him because she thinks that's what I want, but it isn't. It isn't."

"I know it isn't," said Abbie. "Your mother—"

She stopped herself. Her anger began bubbling, boiling to the surface when she considered how much damage Angel had caused Ollie. Not only Ollie. How long had Alice been behind bars before Angel dragged her kid sister into her orbit, drilling into her son that Aurora was a sister to him now, forcing the absent Alice out? How many times had Ollie watched his mother deal with a problem and believed that was the right way? His hatred of Jacob hadn't been emotional but preconditioned by a mother who refused to take responsibility and taught her son to search for someone to blame in all unfavourable situations, regardless of how culpable you were.

"You should call your mum," said Abbie. "Tell her you don't want Jacob harmed."

Ollie shook his head into Abbie's chest. "It wouldn't work."

"You don't know that."

"I do." At last, he pulled his head away. Abbie tried not to look at the damage to her new top. "It's happened before."

That was interesting.

"What do you mean?"

"When I was little, I got upset about not having a dad like Aurora and my friends. Mum said it didn't matter, but I couldn't get it out of my head. I went on and on about it, begging her to tell me something, anything, about him."

He put his fingers to his mouth. Started biting his nails, but Abbie yanked his hand away. After a shocked jump, Ollie went on.

"She resisted for ages, then one day she comes home, puts me in some nice clothes and drags me to the car. She drives me to a house and knocks on the door, and when he answers, Angel shoves me inside and tells me I'm looking at my daddy. This is him. Then she leaves, telling me she'll wait in the car."

Ollie stopped. Abbie realised she was clenching her fists and forced them apart. That bitch. The words were on her lips, but she held them back.

Abbie knew what this was. It was natural that a boy who had never known his father would be curious, but rather than seeing it as what it was, Angel had taken it as a slight. Her little boy telling her she wasn't enough. How insulted Angel must have been. In her eyes, Ollie had misbehaved, and what do you do with a misbehaving child?

Punish them.

"My father told me he didn't want me; that I should pretend I didn't have a dad. He cried and said he was sorry, but what good was that when he'd told me I was nothing to him? I ran to mum's car. I was crying, and I couldn't stop. Not until mum shook me and told me to stop being a baby. To grow up, stop sobbing, and tell her what I wanted."

Ollie looked at Abbie as though wondering if she might ask what he'd told his mum. Abbie didn't have to. She knew.

"I said I wanted him dead," said Ollie. "But I didn't mean it. When I calmed down, I told her I'd been stupid. I didn't want him to die. He was still my dad. I begged her not to do anything."

Ollie's face was flushed now. Telling the story, remembering, was exhausting him. Abbie might have stopped him but found she couldn't speak. The sick story had her enthralled.

"Mum told me not to worry," said Ollie. "Then she took me for ice cream, and when I was on my second helping, talking about how I thought I could get my daddy to change his mind, she smiled and told me I'd fooled myself into believing I wanted dad to live. Only in the heat of my anger, mum said, had I been brave enough to tell the truth. The truth was I wanted daddy dead, and it was my lucky day because as we ate ice cream, someone mummy trusted was making my dream come true."

Abbie closed her eyes, took a breath. It was all she could do not to scream. Always so good at keeping her temper in check and her face clear of emotion, now Abbie’s rage must have shown.

"I didn't mean to," Ollie sobbed, and Abbie knew what he was saying. Opening her eyes, she pulled the boy back in for a hug.

"No, no, no," she said. "Of course you didn't. Your mum flipped it. When you were angry, that was when you least knew what you wanted. The calm you was the real you. Oh, Ollie, I'm so sorry. It's not right. Your mother should have never—"

"She only ever does what's best for me," said Ollie.

Abbie almost responded but stopped herself. Angel had brainwashed the teen. No good could come of trying to explain what a foul creature his mother was.

"I'll try and talk to her," Ollie said. "I'll explain I was wrong about Jacob. He isn't the problem. I am."

"No, you're not, sweetie," said Abbie, thinking about Angel. "I promise you're not."

She held Ollie close as he sobbed, held him close