Unconditional.

After I'd returned home to find the house trashed it took me the rest of the day to help Dad clean up. I had to beg him not to get the police involved, which raised all sorts of questions. For some reason I didn't want to tell on Luke; I felt like it would've made me looked scared, which I wasn't. But Dad wanted to know who did it and why, and he wouldn't give until I told him. And of course, I lied. I told him I'd handle it.

It was late by the time the house looked normal. Well, except the smashed window, which we covered with a slab of wood I found in the shed. I went upstairs to shower, then dressed in jeans and a hooded jumper and left the house, throwing a beanie on because I couldn't be bothered to straighten my hair. I didn't bother getting a taxi; I had too much pent-up energy not to walk. I knew it was probably stupid to go back, but I wanted to show Luke he didn't scare me.

Who even was he anyway? Where did Holly even find a guy like this? He'd abused her, he stalked her and now he was threatening anyone who went near her. He looked a few years older than me, and she was only 17. Had he somehow forced her into a relationship with him? Why hadn't she told someone about him yet? I didn't know whether Holly was ready to talk about it yet, but I needed her to. I needed to know if my family were safe.

I reached the club in just under half an hour, and I headed straight for the bar. But Holly wasn't there. I couldn't see her anywhere. I waited for a few minutes, hoping she'd appear from the bathroom or walk in through the back door, but it became clear she wasn't there. I slid off my stool, ready to leave, when Brewer almost walked straight into me. Dread coursed through me and I seriously considered running, just ditching my job before he could sack me, but pride kept my feet still.

"Josh," he said cheerfully. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Yeah," I replied lamely, "uh..."

"I didn't get a chance to thank you," he cut in, "for taking Holly home the other night. She's feeling much better now."

"Better...?" I stammered, feeling like an idiot.

"It must've just been a stomach bug or something," he said brightly. "Anyway, thank you."

"Yeah," I said slowly, "um, no problem."

"You're working tomorrow, right?" he asked, and I nodded. "Right. So what can I do for you today?"

I could feel colour rising to my face as I choked out, "You know what, it's fine, I'll leave it..."

"Josh," he said, authority creeping into his tone as I turned to walk away, "what is it? Tell me."

"I was just wondering if Holly was around," I mumbled, barely audible above the heavy bass. "I couldn't find my phone and I... I think I put my phone in her bag by accident when she left my house the other day..."

"Oh," he said in surprise, "of course. Follow me."

I nodded glumly and trailed after him. He led me behind the bar and through a door. We followed a narrow hallway into a small room filled with black leather sofas and contemporary furniture, complete with a coffee machine, oven and sink. The wallpaper was foggy purple and the carpet was thick.

Brewer gestured for me to take a seat and headed for an old fashioned black telephone. I felt restless and stupid, and every part of me just wanted to run from that room, calling excuses over my shoulder. What was I thinking, going to Holly's father to deceive her address out of him? All to get information on the guy who'd vandalised my house when really I should've been calling the police and reporting him. I got up and paced back and forth, feeling stupider by the second.

My pulse was growing in speed and I had no control over it. I felt nervous, my palms were sweaty and I just wanted to go home and forget the whole thing. Just the thought of showing up at Holly's house to talk about her ex boyfriend was beyond messed up. But I found myself longing to see her.

"Hello, it's me," said Brewer into the phone. Too late to back out now. "Josh was looking for you, he said you had his phone. Are you home alone?"

I didn't need to hear what Holly was saying to know she was frowning. She knew very well she didn't have my phone. She'd probably been to college with her bag that day. She'd have known if she had my phone. This was beyond awkward.

"Yes, he's here," Brewer continued breezily, as I prayed for the ground to just do me a favour and swallow me up. "Are you sure?"

I felt my knees shake, threatening to buckle. I wanted to hide. Maybe Brewer could already tell I was lying. I hadn't exactly played along with Holly's lie very well, had I? I turned to face the door, mulling over an escape plan.

"Okay," he said, smiling, "I'll tell him. Bye, sweetheart."

He put the phone down and I flinched at the sound as he returned his gaze to me, still smiling. He reached into a drawer and pulled a piece of paper and pen from it, scribbling something down before handing it to me. I looked down at it. It was an address, between my house and the club, not too far from here.

"Um..."

"She's at home studying," he explained. "She says she found your phone and you can go over to pick it up if you'd like."

"Oh," I said, trying to mask my surprise. "Thanks. I will."

With an awkward nod I slipped out of the staff room, breaking into a run as soon as I was out of his sight. I yelled a hasty goodbye over my shoulder at Aidan and Felix as I hurried out of the club, leaving them bewildered.

I knew where her street was; I walked down it to get from my house to the club. The sky was dark already, and I knew my dad was waiting for an explanation. But I couldn't give him one until I'd spoken to Holly. Maybe if we told the authorities together he'd be out of her life for good. She could stop being so afraid.

It was chilly and breezy outside, but I didn't mind. I was pleased to have some fresh, crisp air in my lungs after being in a foggy, sweaty room that smelled of alcohol and body odour. I walked slowly, considering what I'd say when I reached Holly's door. I didn't want to frighten her with the news. I just needed information. But how could I get information without giving some?

I turned onto her street and started watching the house numbers go down. I was searching for number 52. I counted the numbers down in my head, admiring the pretty houses on the street. It didn't surprise me that she lived in a nice neighbourhood; it definitely suited her if anything. Finally I reached a pretty white house with the number 52 on its bright red door, and before I could think to hesitate, I hurried up the porch steps and knocked on the door.

What could I say? Holly knew I hadn't left my phone with her just as well as I did; it was right there in my pocket. So why had she covered for me? Did she have something to say to me too? These questions flew around like a tornado in my head as the door swung slowly open and Holly peered out the gap.

"Josh."

Her voice was like silk; delicate, soft and beautiful. She didn't sound pleased to see me, but she didn't exactly sound displeased either. Her hair tumbled freely past her shoulders in smooth waves. I realised, after a short while, that I should probably say something. Oh god, she probably thought me an idiot.

"Hi," I said lamely. "Um."

"Here to pick up your phone?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and glancing down at my pockets.

"No," I admitted, "I wanted to talk to you, actually."

"I gathered that much. Come in, I suppose."

So I did, and the inside of her house was just as magnificent as the outside. The walls were plain white, with contemporary paintings hung tastefully, and persian rugs hugged the bare floorbaords. The staircase curved around the hall, and beautiful mahogany furniture decorated the dining room to my left, through a rounded arch. Orchids perched on windowsills and candles sat atop end tables. It was beautiful.

Holly led me into a kitchen clad in red, black and white, gesturing for me to sit at the breakfast bar. I climbed obediently on a posh leather stool and watched her consult the fridge for drinks, standing on her tip toes.

"Are you here alone?" I asked, clearing my throat nervously.

"Yes," she replied simply.

"Oh," I said quietly, and she turned to glare at me.

"Why are you here, Josh?" she suddenly demanded. "If it's about last night, it didn't mean anything."

"It's not," I said, a little wounded.

Of course, I'd known she hadn't kissed me because she liked me. She was kissing me to show Luke she'd moved on, but it obviously hadn't worked and now she was looking at me as if somehow it was my fault.

"So why are you here?" she repeated impatiently, slamming a can of Dr Pepper on the counter in front of me.

I decided to come right out with it. "Your boyfriend trashed my house today."

Her eyes widened. "Oh..."

"I just wanted to ask you a few things," I continued, ignoring the can in front of me, "if that's okay."

"About Luke?" she laughed humourlessly. "Fire away."

"He was hurting you, right?" I said, my gaze flitting to her arms looking for evidence. "Why have you never told anyone?"

She shrugged. "You don't know what he's capable of, Josh. I don't expect you to understand."

"Then tell me," I pushed, "because if you don't give me a good enough reason not to, I'm going to report him to the police. My dad's freaked."

"You can't do that," she pleaded, her voice suddnely frantic. "Please, Josh? I can't tell you what happened, but can you please just trust me and not go to the police with this? You promised you wouldn't say anything, you promised!"

"My dad's demanding an explanation," I sighed, rubbing my forehead. "What the hell am I supposed to say to him?"

"Please..." she whispered, her eyes filling with water, and I felt myself bending to her will.

"Fine," I said, and she sighed with relief.

"Look," she said tiredly, "I'm sorry you got dragged into this mess. I didn't realise he'd come for you too. I'll fix it, Josh, I promise."

"How are you going to do that?" I demanded, and she shook her head sadly.

"You should go," she muttered, and it sounded a whole lot like a goodbye.

"You don't have to go through this alone," I told her, but she shook her head.

"Just go."

I felt ready to fight for her, to jump to her defense, but there was just this powerful force inside me that made me do as she wanted. I stood up, abandoning my unopened drink, and made for the door. As I left I glanced back at her. She sank to her knees, looking defeated, and I just wanted to go right back and put my arms around her. But I didn't. She'd made everything clear. It meant nothing to her.

The whole exchange had taken less than five minutes, but I was exhausted when I left that house. I felt like sitting down on the curb to rest. I didn't want to go home to my parents without an explanation. I knew I had a big favour to ask of someone, and it was going to be bad for both of us.

Seb had always been known for causing trouble. We'd been friends forever, but in school he was always getting me into trouble and I was always covering for him. My parents had never really liked him for that. But through thick and thin we'd always had each other's backs, no matter what. He'd have died for me and I'd have done the same for him. He was practically my brother.

I dialled his number slowly, already feeling guilty for what I was about to put him through. Because no one wants to get on the wrong side of my father. On the surface he's your average bubbly, upbeat crazy painter dude, but when you make him angry he can make you wish you'd never been born. He can be scary when he wants to.

"Yellow?" Seb sang down the phone, and I sighed.

"Hey, Seb," I grunted. "I need a favour."

"Sure," he said immediately. "What can I do for you, Joshua?"

"Don't be so quick to agree," I warned. He waited for me to explain, so I continued. "I need you to take the fall for something. Something bad."

"What is it, Josh?" he asked, his tone suddenly serious. "What's happened?"

"Someone trashed my house," I explained. "I can't tell you who. I just need someone to take the blame for me, and I couldn't think of anyone else who'd do this for me. But my dad..."

"Sure," he said, cutting me off. "I mean, your dad's always hated me, right? What did I do this time?"

After explaining the plan we hung up and I started walking home. I felt so guilty for subjecting Seb to all this. I knew he was going to be made to pay for the window at the very least, but I also knew Dad wouldn't let him off that lightly. I was officially the worst friend ever.

The thing about Seb was he didn't care what people thought of him. He did things thoughtlessly and didn't care one bit about the consequence. He'd never appeared to care what my dad thought of him, but I still felt awful. We met up outside my house and Seb seemed as relaxed as ever. I offered him a small smile and he beamed back at me.

"Ready?" he said dauntlessly, and I couldn't help admiring his enthusiasm.

I was jealous of Seb in that way. He'd face anything with little to no fear and smile through it. He took life by the horns and laughed when it bucked him off. I wished at that moment that I could be more like him. I wished I could live life without worrying about the consequences. I just tend to worry way too much.

"You can still back out," I told him, but he shook his head and grinned.

"Come on Josh," he said, punching my arm, "I live to piss people off, remember?"

I smiled and shook my head grimly, pessimistically hoping my dad would be asleep already. But I knew he wouldn't want to sleep until I was home, not after what happened earlier. He'd want to know I was safe. I led Seb inside, and I couldn't help believing I was marching him to his death. As I predicted, Dad was still awake, reading a book in the living room. His eyes widened when he saw I wasn't alone.

Seb helped himself to an armchair, falling carelessly into it and rubbing his hands together. I couldn't sit down; I didn't want to stop moving, I wanted to be prepared for the worst. I wanted a quick escape. At least Seb's smart enough to pull a serious face, I thought gloomily.

"Sebastian," said my dad warily, shooting me a look, "what can I do for you?"

"Where are Mum and Ilona?" I asked, desperate to keep the peace for as long as possible.

"In bed," Dad replied.

"I'm here to apologise," Seb cut in, and I glared at him. He gave me a reassuring look before continuing, "See, I found out last night that my girlfriend had a thing for Josh. I saw her trying it on with him yesterday, and I got mad."

"What are you saying, Sebastian?" Dad demanded, his voice rising, and I flinched.

"I know I lashed out at the wrong person," Seb carried on bravely. "I just wanted to scare him off her, but I realised too late that he wasn't interested in her. I guess I got carried away. I'm sorry, Mr. Peyton, it was me. I trashed your house earlier. I hadn't meant to take it that far."

Dad was silent for a while, and I hated every long second of it. Seb had played his part perfectly, but I was still expecting the worst. It was definitely worse for me when Dad calmly asked me to leave the room and shut the door behind me. For a moment I just stood there, frozen, not wanting to leave my father alone with Seb.

"Josh," he growled threateningly, "now."

I stepped outside, sitting on the front porch to wait, my heart pounding in my chest. I longed to know what was going on in there, but at the same time I was relieved I didn't have to watch the disaster unfold.

So much had happened today. It was hard to believe I'd spent the morning at Rachel and Tristan's flat, washing their dishes and looking back on the night before. That felt like years ago now. In one day I'd managed to receive threats from Luke, have a pointless conversation with Holly and make my best friend clean up my mess. What was my life becoming? All it had done since I was sacked from my first job was just spiral downwards, and I was afraid I hadn't hit rock bottom yet.

One thing was certain, though: Luke was going to pay. There was no way he was going to threaten my family without paying for it. I was going to get revenge, but I wasn't sure how just yet. It would come to me, though. And I was sure Seb would take pleasure in getting revenge too.

On that thought I heard the front door click shut and Seb took a seat beside me. He grinned at me, but I couldn't bring myself to smile back.

"Lighten up, Josh!" he laughed. "It's been taken care of."

"What's the damage?" I grumbled, putting my head in my hands.

"Community service," he replied calmly. "I have to help your dad on his exhibit thing next week. You know, picking up his suit, moving stuff to the gallery, serving food, blah blah blah."

"I'm so sorry," I started, but he held up his hand.

"It's fine," he assured me. "What are friends for?"

Taking the fall for you, apparently, I thought bitterly, hating myself for what I'd done to him. The worst part was that I had to continue lying, and not just to him. I had to lie to everyone.