Bad Days: Four Days, #3

By A. S. Kelly

Jason Lee is the friend everyone wants in their lives. He's loyal, sensitive, generous, and kind to those he loves. He has dedicated himself completely to his work at the pub that he manages with his friends, who have become a second family to him. He's trying to make sense of a life damaged by loss and pain, closing himself into his safe haven of a world that is far removed from his past. He's determined not to lose any more than he already has.
Alex McBride returns to Dublin, having been away for five years. She finds her old house, visits her favourite places in the town she grew up in, but nothing is as it used to be. Coming back is never easy, especially if your absence has slowly destroyed someone else's life; someone you had hoped to forget, but who has stayed exactly where he was, like an open wound that won't stop bleeding.
Jason and Alex find each other again after years apart: they've been friends, confidants and conspirators, but now they're forced to reconcile a past that has never stopped hurting and a future that they could never live out together.
Because there's something that could separate them.
And this time, they might be parted forever.

Bad Days is a complete standalone and a part of the Four Days Series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A. S. Kelly
• Release date: Sep 28, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227993755

Book preview

Chapter 1

Jason

FIVE YEARS EARLIER

Idon’t feel like studying, I can’t think about exams right now. The truth is, I don’t care about anything anymore.

Mum has left, and she’s taken my family with her. Or, at least, the idea of having one.

I can’t make it – we can’t make it – on our own, just me and him. We just can’t do it. She was the one who kept everything together.

I feel so alone, and I’m furious at the world, with everyone, with him...everyone except her.

I could never be angry with her.

We’ve been friends since we were born. Our mothers were close, so we’ve been doing things together since they came to live here on Pearse Street before we were born. She and I were always together, almost like siblings. I was with her every day at school and every afternoon when we came home. Inseparable friends, two very different souls, yet so close.

My whole life is music, and she...well, she’s always got her nose in a book.

I like watching her read, as she wrinkles her brow or bites her lip when she gets to an exciting point in the story.

I’ve studied her expressions for years—sometimes funny, sometimes sweet. I also swear I’ve seen her eyes fill with tears as she reads, but she’s embarrassed get so emotional sometimes, so I pretend not to notice.

Just looking at her gives me warmth and confidence – and I need it now more than ever. I miss it like I’d miss oxygen in my lungs.

I watch her as she scratches her nose, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, trying to hold back her emotions. She’s wonderful: so shy, so fragile, but not as fragile as I feel right now.

I’m crippled with pain. I feel like I’m about to do something I may regret for the rest of my life, but I can’t resist.

I need to. Right now.

I know we’re just two kids, and sooner or later she’s going to start going out with someone, even though I keep a ten-kilometre distance from every guy who comes near her; but soon, she’s going to look around and start to understand that other guys like her. She’s beautiful, she’s smart, she’s unique. And as soon as she realises that, it’s all over for me.

I’d have been happy just to sit and watch her, just like I always have. But now, I want more.

Now I want to know what it feels like to be in her arms.

So I get up and walk towards her. She stops reading without lifting her eyes from the book. I know she senses me, she realises I’m coming closer, but she doesn’t look at me. She doesn’t give me the satisfaction.

I sit next to her, forcing her to look at me, to remove the pencil from her mouth.

Now I’ve got her attention. She slowly starts to lose herself in my eyes, which I can’t tear away from her; she’s the only person in my life who hasn’t hurt me.

I place my lips on hers just for a second, but I feel emotion rise, beating in my heart. I didn’t think this was possible. I thought it was protected, bundled up in my loss.

But it starts beating again, for her, for my friend.

For my Alex.

After a few seconds of hesitation, she lets herself go and timidly opens her lips, letting me play with her tongue. I run my fingers through her stunning, golden hair and slide my hand behind her neck, pulling her closer to me.

I feel her body warm me up, thawing my heart from its unbearable, icy pain that, until just a few minutes ago, I thought would destroy me.

I let my hands slide down her face, along her arms and onto her waist. I sigh and slip them under her shirt, feeling her hot, soft skin. That touch snaps me out of my stupor and my suffering, instantly bringing me back to life.

I try to transform this light, intimate kiss into something more; shyly, she lets me. But I can feel something is wrong.

My Alex isn’t with me anymore.

Alex

We’re in my bedroom, just the same as every other day that I can remember. This is our place, our refuge: it’s here we come to hide. It’s here where our friendship has grown year after year.

We’ve known each other since we were kids, we’ve shared everything, and now, here we are: sharing this pain. It’s his pain, of course it is, but I feel it as if it were mine.

His mother isn’t here anymore, and the hole in his heart is something that can never be filled. I wish I could help him, but I don’t know how.

We sit in silence. He tries to study for our upcoming exam and I try to help him the best I can but I know he’s not really reading that book, just like I can’t concentrate on anything else.

All my thoughts are about him.

The silence that wraps itself around us is so loud. I’m afraid he’ll break down in tears, and I won’t know how to comfort him.

Or maybe I’ll be the first to cry. I can’t stand to see him like this.

He’s my best friend, my partner in crime, my guiding force; but something’s changed. It’s like our roles have been reversed. And I’m scared I won’t be able to help him pull through.

I’ve got to try, for his sake, because I don’t want him to get lost in himself.

Jason’s happy, he’s always smiling, just like his mum. He’s always open and cheerful, the life and soul of the party, the guy who makes you feel better after a terrible day.

His eyes are clear and sincere; they shine, blinding you with their light, like two stars falling from heaven to illuminate the darkness.

And yet, they seem different now. They’re deeper, and they mask an unbearable suffering. They’re tainted by a shadow, tears pushing their way to the surface; but they’re held back by something that won’t let him free them.

I’d do anything to take away his pain, to stop him from feeling alone and abandoned.

And then I feel him moving in the room, stepping closer to me.

My heart stops for a second. I can feel that something’s about to happen, something that could change our relationship and our lives forever. I don’t know if I’m ready, but he’s Jason and I’m not afraid of what could happen. I trust him.

He sits on my bed. I know this because I can feel the mattress sink under his weight. I don’t take my eyes off my book, even though I’ve been reading the same sentence over and over for a while now.

I can’t look him in the eyes.

Then he takes my face in his hands and gives me a weak smile.

I see his eyes light up again, his lips moving in towards mine. I hold my breath and my heart starts beating like crazy, a frantic feeling in my chest that I’m barely able to control.

And he kisses me tenderly. It’s not a kiss you give to a friend. It’s something totally different. It’s a real kiss.

My first kiss.

I’ve never kissed anyone before. Guys never approach me, and now I’m starting to understand why. Jason is always around: he holds my hand, he hugs me, and walks with me by his side every day as if...as if I were his.

I let go of my discomfort and try to bring myself back to what’s happening right here, right now, in this room; a room we’ve been in together a thousand times before, but have never dipped beyond the surface.

My tongue brushes against his and a shiver runs down my spine, giving me goosebumps. Jason pulls me into him and for the first time, I feel his heat blend with mine.

He runs his hands through my hair, across my face and my shoulders. He trails down slowly along my arms and stops a moment at my waist. He takes a deep breath and lets his fingers slide under my shirt. His touch makes me shudder with embarrassment and pure emotion, but it’s something nice. Something I want.

Something right.

Suddenly, the pain in my chest becomes too much. I try to slowly pull away from this kiss, which confuses me, puts our friendship in jeopardy. I feel like I’m losing something important.

My vision goes hazy. I close my eyes, and then there’s nothing.

I’m losing myself.

I’m lost.

Chapter 2

Jason

PRESENT DAY

Ican’t believe I’m back in this house . It’s been years since I’ve set foot in here, but he called me, he begged me – and I didn’t feel like I could refuse.

I abandoned him to escape the memory of the pain. I took the first chance I got to get out of here, hoping to leave this all behind.

After my mother’s death, my father couldn’t handle it: he imploded. I always thought of him as a strong man, an unclimbable, inaccessible mountain to everyone except my mother.

Yet when she left, she took every memory, every joy, every smile with her.

She took it all with her.

And she took him too.

My father was a good musician. It seemed like he enjoyed it, that it was something important in his life, but when his career started to seriously take off, he gave it all up suddenly and totally, like an addict going cold turkey. I couldn’t understand the reason then – I was just a kid, too hung up on the idea of success, applause, an adoring crowd. My father was cool, and when he came to collect me from school, the other mums melted under his glance.

But he wasn’t interested.

He only wanted her.

He decided to give up the path he was taking, leaving music behind and opening a recording studio instead. He stopped travelling for his music to stay with us, to make her happy; so that she wouldn’t be lonely without him.

Then, it all happened: she left, and he died with her. I’ve never seen that sparkle in his eyes since that day. I haven’t seen any sign of love in him, or any emotion other than anger.

He tried to be a father to me but he just wasn’t very good at it. Of course, I wasn’t a little kid at the time. I was about twenty when Mum died, but I needed him—I needed his support. I wanted him to share my grief, but he couldn’t. He was a broken man, half a man.

And I couldn’t bear it: I left everything behind.

An escape from the past, from the gaping hole in my life.

Her absence.

I missed her terribly; God, how I missed her. I still do. I remember everything about her. Her face is branded in my mind, and sometimes I can still conjure up the scent of her perfume, or her shampoo that cascaded over me every night as she came to tuck me in, even when I got too old for it.

I found refuge in Aaron’s house. He’s always been one of my best friends, especially after he and his sister Rain ended up alone. They lost their parents a few years back, and I went to live with them. We helped each other out in every way possible.

They welcomed me into their lives and gave me a life of my own.

They became my family.

It’s been five long years since I’ve set foot in this house, a place that reminds me of everything I wanted to forget.

But here I am, back at the beginning. I’m tired of having to keep my distance. I miss my childhood memories which are here, between these walls where I grew up.

I miss her.

My dad wants to put the pieces of this family back together. Now. Now that I’ve learned to live with this bitterness and solitude. Now that I don’t need him anymore.

He wants us to go back to how we once were, to rebuild a relationship with me.

So here we are. Starting over, as he says, from the beginning. I don’t know if he’s really serious this time, but there’s nothing left for me to do but find out.

Life hasn’t been fair to him, or to me, but I’m trying to make the most of it: I want to breathe in fresh air, without old memories dragging me into the shadows. I certainly don’t want to end up like him – I know I can do better than that.

Control, that’s what I need. Control over everything. Over my life, how I act, and especially over my emotions.

No weakness, no consequences.

All I have is my music, which is my only escape, and of course my friends.

Nothing else can touch me.

Chapter 3

Alex

I’m back in Dublin: my city, the place I’ve always wanted to live. I’ve missed it so much over the past few years. I’ve missed the streets that watched me grow up, the city smells, the sky and its thousand varying shades.

I applied for a part-time job in the Trinity College library and I start in a few days.

I love books. I always have, ever since I was a little girl. I got started on comics, then graduated to love stories for teenagers before growing to appreciate the classics.

I threw myself into books to escape a reality that I could never accept.

I don’t go out much, and I don’t have a big group of friends. It’s not that I’m antisocial, it’s just hard to have friends when the majority of things people your age do and dream about doing are off-limits to you.

I lived with my mother in Limerick for the past few years but I always wanted to come back here. Mum wasn’t very enthusiastic about me moving back here – she’d have preferred me to keep living with her – but my health brought me back; here, I have everything I need.

My dad is really nervous: he sends me a message every two hours to make sure I’ve eaten, that I’ve taken my medicine, to make sure I’m still breathing.

If it were up to him, I’d be living under his careful watch twenty-four hours a day. I never would have gone to university, and I would definitely never have found a job. But in the end, he had to give up his stubbornness and let me live my life as I want to, even though he still harbours this desperate desire to keep me close by.

Despite everything, I’m not sad, not down. But I’m also not cheerful, or roaring with laughter. I just try to keep active as much as I can.

I just try to live.

My dad is fantastic, even if he can be a bit suffocating at times. He can’t help it. I’m his little girl, and I always will be. He still can’t accept that there’s something wrong with me.

In his eyes, I’m perfect, and he proves his love to me every day – every minute. It’s not bad having a dad like that, but sometimes I can’t breathe under the weight of it, especially when he forces me to respond to his messages; if I stopped replying, he’d call up every hospital in the city, the police and maybe even the fire department.

My mother was more understanding, and always gave me more freedom. She tried to leave me my space, not to be too overwhelming with affection or concern, and I was always grateful for that.

The truth is that she was the strong one in the family. She never lost faith, never went into panic mode when I wasn’t well. She didn’t cry all night, and was never hidden away like my father was.

She listened to him, comforted him and reassured him. She encouraged him to let me go, to let me live my life my own way, so that if, someday, something irreparable happened to me, I never regretted anything.

My parents hadn’t loved each other for a while, and when I went through what I did, it was just about the final straw in their relationship. She left and took me with her, and he stayed here, alone. Then she met someone who had no idea about this part of her life: someone who didn’t cry constantly, or spend the night standing outside my bedroom door. Someone who put her above everyone else, who didn’t invest all his energy into taking care of his daughter’s needs.

My parents have a good relationship despite their separation, and I know that I’m lucky for that. Dad understood: he understands everybody.

He’s such a good guy that he never gets mad at anyone, even if they hurt him. The only things that exist in his world are me and his café, now owned by the third generation of our family, even though I think we’ll be the last to run it. After all, there’s no one else to leave it to.

As far as I’m concerned, I’m fine with what I’ve got. I don’t have big plans for the future. For me, my job and my drama-free life are more than enough.

I don’t expect much. I don’t have any hopes of meeting a man, having my own family, of travelling or anything that goes beyond an ordinary life.

I live waiting for something to happen, aware that things could all fall apart suddenly.

I am alive, but I’m not living, I’m a spectator of everyone else’s life, and I can’t do anything but wait, day after day.

I can only wait for the last day to come.

Chapter 4

Jason

My father is doing his best to get close to me and I should appreciate it, but I can’t. I’m still pissed off.

I don’t think this feeling will ever pass.

I’m mad at him, at the world. Sometimes I surprise myself that I’m angry even with my mum, who of course, I shouldn’t be. It’s irrational, I know that.

It’s not her fault what happened, but I can’t seem to