One More Fight [EDITING]

14: ADELAIDE

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Three Years Ago - 2017

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    Three months is a long time; it's enough time for me to think about moving home to live with my mum since the rent on this place is high, and the lease will run out soon. It's the time Fletcher's been gone, and despite loathing his very fucking being, I also miss him.

Why did I fuck Sam and Daisy – his bit on the side? Why the fuck couldn't I just... whatever, it's done. I can't take any of my actions back, just like he can't take his back. We can't take the past six months of the year back. I wish we could rewind time to the day before the terror attack and I could force him to come back early.

If he'd done that, I genuinely think things would've worked out. While his depression and PTSD weren't what made him shag the woman in the pub, I think if he'd not gone through that horror, we would've gone through things easier.

I knock back the final dribble of my glass of wine just as there's a knock on the door.

"Fuck's sake," I curse.

Who the fuck wants me at ten at night on a weekday? No one ever comes here anyway, unless it's my mum or the postman, or most recently it's been my Amazon delivery driver who's now on a first-name basis with me. Good old Dean.

I put the chain on the front door before opening it as far as it'll go. Luckily, I'm still in my clothes. I was going to have a bath after this latest episode of The Apprentice is finished.

But as I open the door, I quickly take the chain off when I notice Sam Ward there – Fletcher's brother. His dark brown hair is ruffled, his eyes look red, and he's looking defeated. His shoulders are slumped, a frown on his face. The black leather jacket he's wearing is hiding the grey form-fitting t-shirt, which, from experience, I know hides his muscles and abs. The dark blue jeans set off his look perfectly, and if it wasn't ten at night, he wasn't upset and he wasn't Fletcher's brother, I'd be chatting him up. But right now, he looks like he needs a friend.

Are we even friends? I don't know. I would say no, but I guess I'll find out his view now.

"Come in, Sam," I whisper.

"Thanks." He sniffs as he walks into the flat.

Once I've closed the door, we both walk into the lounge where I've paused the TV and have an empty glass of wine on the table and a half-eaten bowl of popcorn.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asks.

"No, it's fine. What's going on?"

He sighs and sits on the brown leather armchair. His left ankle crosses over and rests on his right knee, and he rubs his forehead with his hand. "I just... it's a fucking mess, Adelaide."