The small old Queenslander sits sun-faded at the end of the cul-de-sac, a leftover from the 1800’s with its tin roof and mismatched yellow and green exterior. The paint’s peeling around the windows and the yard is covered in dying grass from the summer heat.
This used to be home. Now it just looks… tired. Like it’s been absorbing the tension inside its walls for too long.
Sean’s car is still in the driveway.
Music blares from inside. Some thumping, angry beat that makes the front window vibrate.
I sit there, engine idling, pulse climbing.
Someone’s definitely home. I sit there for a few minutes, watching, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.
Then I see him through the front window. Sean. He lifts a cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. His shoulders are relaxed. His face is blank.
And suddenly I can’t breathe.
I slam the car into reverse, my hands shaking as I back out of the driveway fast, heart hammering. My head is spinning.
He saw me, didn’t he? Shit. I don’t know. Maybe? Maybe not.
“Fuck,” I whisper, gripping the wheel tighter. “Fucking fuck.”
That’s another night I have to stay at the motel. Another grocery run for Gizmo. Another dip into savings I don’t want to spare. I feel it… tight in my chest, like everything’s slipping through a crack I can’t seal. Money. Time. Energy. It’s all draining out of me, and I don’t know how to fix it.
I glance in the rearview mirror as I drive away, heart still racing. That house might still have some of my things, but it doesn’t have me. Not anymore.
Not if I can help it.
The day’s almost over, and my last client Tyler just took a seat.
He is about the same age as me, and I’ve been cutting his hair since I moved to Coevey Bay last year. He’s one of my favourite clients, even though Sean wouldneverallow me to actually be his friend.
Tyler is gorgeous inside and out, with his dark blonde cropped curls, piercing blue eyes, sun-kissed skin, lean muscular build, and tattoos crawling up his arms. He’s a classic surfer-tradie type, a massive flirt and a bit of a player, but he’s always been genuinely kind to me.
“Hey, Cammie,” he says as he sits in the chair.
“You after the usual, Ty?” I run my fingers through his curls.
“Of course. I trust you to do whatever you want,” he gives me a charming smirk.
I start his haircut, a bit quieter than usual, hoping he won’t notice I’m off today. The sound of my scissors cuts through the silence.
“Cammie,” I look to his hair, avoiding eye contact. “Cammie. What’s going on?”
“Nothing, Ty. I’m just tired. I was up really late last night,” I yawn, still cutting.
He taps the armrest, his tone firm now.
“Cam. I’ve known you for a year now. I know when you’re not okay. You’ve been crying, haven’t you?” Shit. I knew he’d notice. I hesitate,focusing on his hair, wondering whether to tell him. Beyond Danielle, I haven’t talked to anyone about this. Sean practically cut me off from friends when he moved us here. He hated when I tried to make new ones.
“Okay. You’re not wrong,” I finally admit. “But I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about it.”
“I get it,” his voice is gentle. “But just know, this is a safe zone.”
He pauses, his voice hardening slightly. “Unless Sean did something to you—then it’s not a safe zone for him. Just… tell me if you’re okay.” He looks so sincere I almost burst into tears.
“Tyler… you’re sweet. To be honest, I don’t know if I’m okay. Sean and I broke up. I’m just trying to figure out my next steps.”
“That fucker,” he mutters. “He never deserved you. Just say the word if you want me to go punch him.” I laugh despite myself.
