Lonely Castle

Hope is a fragile thing

Garrick

"Mama!" Garrick screamed as he bolted upright, covered in sweat and gasping for air. He clutched at his chest as though he could reach inside and calm his pounding heart and ease the burning in his lungs. Scanning the room, he pressed his fingers into his palms and took several steadying breaths. Swinging his long, muscular legs to the floor, Garrick ran his long, thick fingers through his wavy, dark hair.

It had been twenty-six years since that fateful day when Ray and Garrick's lives changed for the worse, though from the outside, it would have seemed the opposite. Once the inquest was over and the gossip rags had gotten their pound of flesh, life for the Jameses returned to a relatively normal state.

Ray threw himself into his work, ascending the financial and social ranks of life, all while leaving his heart firmly rooted in the past. No more did he rush home to play with Garrick, no more family dinners, nor bedtime stories, and no more trips or Sunday walks. No, Ray was dead on the inside, or at least when it came to Garrick—Garrick, who'd inherited his mother's eyes and stubbornness.

The older he grew, the more nothing Garrick did seemed to impress his father or encourage a kind word; not even a hug or smile would be offered, unless, of course, people were watching. It was as if he'd suddenly become invisible, and as the years went on, the void between them became unfathomable.

Sighing, Garrick turned off the water and grabbed a towel from the warmer, wrapping it around his lean waist. He strode over to the sink and pulled out his moisturiser. Pausing, Garrick stared at his reflection. 'Boys need to moisturise too; you won't stay young and pretty forever,' or at least that's what Melodie used to say. Smiling at the memory, he rubbed the overpriced cream into his face and neck.

Straightening up, he glanced at one of the photos taped to his mirror; six smiling faces stared back at him. Fixating on her almond-shaped brown eyes, pouty lips, and black curly hair, sadness touched his heart. If only he'd fought hard enough for what they had.

***

"Morning, Faye," Garrick greeted her as he strode into the large open-plan kitchen diner. "You look like s**t, boy, too rough a night or too long?" She huffed, handing him his breakfast consisting of four greasy fried eggs and a healthy portion of greasy overcooked bacon 'I need to find a cook' he thought, eyeing the food with the type of suspicion he reserved for strangers.

Sitting at the breakfast bar, Garrick carefully tucked his tie into his shirt. "Has my father made an appearance this morning?" He asked half-heartedly, chasing a greasy egg around his plate. Huffing, Faye propped her hip against the countertop, a move she knew would annoy the hell out of him "Do I look like your tart of a secretary?" Sneered the grumpy Irishwoman, as she gestured towards herself.

Inhaling a deep breath, he sent a glare in her direction "No… you look a lot like the house manager, or at least that's what your payslip suggests," bit back Garrick as he took a long sip of his bitter coffee "Jesus, Faye! Would it kill you to clean the f*****g filter?" Mentally stealing himself, Garrick counted to five.

"Oh, and by the way, if Ray should stop by, could you please let him know I'll be in meetings all morning and I'll catch up with him some other time," said Garrick, pushing himself away from the table and disaster she deemed food.

****

"Good morning, sir," trilled Sydney, her voice a touch too bright for Garrick's mood as he stomped past her desk. "Is it, though?" he shot back, practically tearing his office door open. He came to a halt at seeing Emit, who'd been his friend since the tender age of two.

"Well, someone's in a delightful mood this morning. Who pissed in your Cheerios?" Quipped Emit, taking a lazy sip of coffee. Garrick, halfway to slamming the door, grabbed the handle before it could slam shut.

"Why is it that not a single woman I employ knows how to do their job?" he growled, shrugging off his suit jacket with more force than strictly necessary.

"Let me guess, the infamous house manager strikes again?" Emit c****d an eyebrow, in amusement at his friend's suffering.

"I warned you, didn't I? But no, you had to pick the one woman even hell spat back out." Smirked Emit.

Smiling, Garrick flopped onto the chair opposite his old friend and retrieved the coffee Emit had meticulously prepared. Something he rarely ever did when grace Rick with his presence.

"You're suspiciously chipper… which one's to blame?"

He teased, voice heavy with sarcasm, all the while knowing Emit never could resist a bit of banter.

Emit grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "Layla, she was extra vigorous this morning— worked me extra hard before my morning coffee, "he winked, taking another sip of Garrick's imported blend. 'I must remember to get some of this for my office.'

"Gross," Grimaced Garrick. "Please do spare me the details of your early morning acrobatics. Not all of us get to live in a s*x-fuelled Rom-Com, " snapped Garrick, shooting him a disdainful look, while Emit oozed smugness.

Unlike Emit, Garrick's own love life was in shambles; Dru was practically a ghost in his bed, and Melly… well, she'd slipped right through his fingers.

Emit's grin faded as he caught the shadow in Garrick's eyes. "—she on cloud nine… You know, because her, quote-unquote, soulmate is home," he offered, trying to sound casual but failing to hide a hint of sympathy. Pausing mid-sip, Garrick choked on his coffee.

"f**k…" he hissed, furiously dabbing his tie in a hurried attempt to absorb the coffee before it stained.

"Yep," Emit chimed, popping the p.

"She'll be staying with us until her place is ready. Thought I'd deliver some good news with your caffeine hit" Emit watched with fascination as his friend absorbed the news. After all, this was Melly, his friend turned lover who ran away after the abrupt death of their relationship due to Garrick and Dru's wandering d***s… 's**t, 'Dru, someone has to tell him,' he thought.

Garrick scoffed. "Doesn't matter… I mean, if she wanted me to know, she'd have told me, or hell, even Dru… because apparently, she still texts him twice a year!" he bitterly snapped.

Scrunching his nose, Garrick bolted out of his chair, pulling out his phone. He dialled Dru's number.

"Hey, Rick, what's up, man?" answered a breathless Dru, swiftly followed by a loud grunt.

"You're about to ruin my day, aren't you?"

"Did you know?" Garrick barked.

"Know what?" hissed Dru, followed by the sound of flesh pounding flesh.

"Melly… wait, what the f**k are you doing?" snapped Garrick.

"Sorry, man, I'm sparring. What about Melly?" he asked in a rushed whisper.

Rubbing at his forehead, Garrick heavily exhaled. "She's here, home, for good," he said, glancing at Emit for confirmation. Nodding, Emit smiled.

With a heavy swallow, Garrick slumped in his chair. Brilliant… After years of waiting for a second chance, fate had finally delivered—and he wasn't sure he was ready for it at all.

"Nah, I didn't know… look, I gotta… are you coming to dinner Friday night? Maybe we can talk about it then?"

"Yeah, sorry… see you Friday."