When Your Eyes Close: A psychological thriller unlike anything you’ve read before!

For the next hour Caitlin found herself exchanging details with Dar Bryan. At first, she was cautious, she had no idea who he was after all, but then she thought what harm could it do? Everybody already knew what had happened. And besides, it might help to hear his story. To hear first-hand what other people went through. What they both needed was someone to listen. As Dar pointed out, it wasn’t long before people started to avoid you because they couldn’t bear to hear you go over the same things time and again. Caitlin had experienced that too, friends who had distanced themselves from her in her agony. One who had bluntly told her that she couldn’t do it anymore, that Caitlin would simply have to get over it. The last six months had seen the end of more than one of her fair-weather friendships. Dar Bryan understood; he’d been there. It was the first time she’d spoken to someone else who had.

CHAPTER TWELVE (#ulink_2bd0a51c-19ca-5f51-9e43-39da329e30c4)

Michelle (#ulink_2bd0a51c-19ca-5f51-9e43-39da329e30c4)

It was less than a half hour later when Michelle stopped the car outside Nick’s house. She sat for a moment, looked in the rear-view mirror and attempted to smooth her hair. She looked a mess. If Nick had changed his mind, then he’d surely change it back again. A part of her wondered if she should’ve told him that she was busy, that she couldn’t meet, but his tone had sounded urgent, desperate even, and that wasn’t like Nick. She couldn’t abandon him, not if there really was something wrong.

He didn’t answer the door immediately. She watched the window for movement, saw the hall illuminated briefly as he opened the kitchen door, then heard his step on the wooden floor.

‘Hey, thanks for coming.’ He stood back for her to pass, and even in the gloom she could see several days’ growth on his jaw, his eyes sunken for want of sleep. Whatever was going on, it was serious.

Under the harsh ceiling light, he looked worse than she’d imagined. He indicated for her to sit but didn’t sit next to her, opting instead for the armchair where the dog usually sat. There was no sign of the dog, which was strange.

‘Where’s Rowdy?’

‘What? Oh.’ Nick got up, opened the back door and the big dog came hurtling through the door. He leaned to ruffle his fur, but the dog made straight for Michelle who welcomed the short reprieve, before whatever it was Nick had to say changed everything. She knew as soon as she saw him that it would.

‘I’m sorry, Michelle, for the other night, for not explaining …’ So here it was finally, the explanation, it didn’t mean that anything had changed.

‘The thing is … I’m sick.’

‘What?’ The surprise was so sudden, it was almost a relief, but for seconds only. ‘What do you mean? What’s the matter?’

‘I’d been feeling a bit off for a while, so I went for some tests, bloods. I didn’t want to tell you. The doctor says I need a liver transplant.’ He looked at her for the first time since she’d arrived.

‘Jesus, Nick. Is it definite? When?’

‘They won’t put my name on the list for six months, you have to be clean – no alcohol …’ Even as he said it, Michelle could smell the whiskey on his breath. She thought of the old woman, her question about whether he was a drinker. ‘And even then, there are no guarantees that a donor can be found in time.’

She didn’t know what to say. She got up, crossed the room, crouched before him and took his hands. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘What can I do?’

Nick shook his head, looked away from her. ‘Nothing. You don’t have to do anything. That’s why I wanted to finish it … it wasn’t you, it’s because there are no guarantees. A year from now, I mightn’t even be here. How can that be fair on you?’

‘So, what? You think I’m going to walk away? Don’t be stupid, I couldn’t, I-I love you, Nick.’ The words were out. She’d been biting them back for weeks now, afraid, waiting for him to say it first, but it didn’t matter now, did it?

‘All I’m saying is, I wouldn’t blame you. You don’t have to, you know? I wasn’t going to tell you at all, I just figured I owed you an explanation.’

‘Well, I’m sticking around whether you want it or not.’

The look of relief on his face was heartbreaking. ‘Come here,’ he said.

As he pulled her to him, she could smell the whiskey again. When they parted she looked round, but there was no sign of the bottle. He must have put it away before she arrived. That wasn’t good, not if he was supposed to have given up.

‘Nick, have you been drinking?’

‘Yeah, but it’s the last one, I swear it. I have to get myself straight. I’m seeing someone, a hypnotist.’

‘Really? Wow. You’re the last person I figured would do that. I can’t believe it’s that bad … I mean, I’ve never even seen you drunk. No more than anyone else.’

‘That’s the thing. It takes more and more to get me drunk. When we were married, Susan insisted that I try to stop, made me sign up for AA meetings, but I didn’t really take it seriously. I thought she was exaggerating … but it turns out she was right, about that anyway.’

The old woman’s words resounded in her head. A dark-haired woman and a child. ‘You and Susan, you didn’t have any children?’

‘What? No … there was a miscarriage. And after that, it didn’t happen … we tried.’ He leaned back to look at her. ‘You hardly thought I’d not have told you about something like that? If I’d had a kid, I mean.’

Michelle shook her head but didn’t tell him anything about the old woman. ‘Of course not. Look, about the transplant, Nick. What about a live donor, they can do that, can’t they?’

‘Not in this country … maybe in the States. I don’t know much about it.’

‘Well if they could … the donor doesn’t even have to be a blood relative – just the same blood type. Which are you?’

‘Michelle, no – even if it was the same, which I’m sure you’re not, I wouldn’t let you do it.’

‘Why not? The liver rejuvenates – in a matter of weeks it would be like I hadn’t even done it. What type are you?’

Nick sighed. ‘Right now, I need to get on that transplant list – and live donor or not, it’s going to be six months.’

‘Nick, your blood type?’

‘O negative. One of the rarest there is. Try finding someone with that blood type who’s willing to donate.’

Michelle sighed. She was B positive. There was no question of her being Nick’s donor. They’d have to hope for a miracle. Even on the transplant list, his chances were limited.

She took his trembling hand. ‘We’ll find a way,’ she said. ‘We’ll beat this.’

‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ he said and bolted for the bathroom.