But I’m wasting money staying in this motel, dipping into savings I’d rather not touch. If he’s not gone soon, I’ll have to contact him.
Maybe I’ll text Tyler and ask him to come with me so I’m not going over there alone.
The upside of my day is that I finally get to see Danielle tonight, a proper debrief is long overdue. She texted to check in with me through the week, but I wanted to wait until I saw her before I gave her the full run down. We’ve both been swamped with work and haven’t had the chance to catch up since everything with Sean blew up.
I arrive at The Tipsy Tap, and the second I walk through the door, I’m pulled into a massive bear hug.
Danielle. My Dani, with her stunning hazel-green eyes and that wild golden-blonde hair. She’s the same height as me—five-foot-five—so her hugs hit just right.
I breathe in the smell of her lavender shampoo as she pulls me in for a bear hug. She’s a couple years younger, but you’d never guess with how wise she is. She makes me feel seen, loved, and safe. Most of my past friendships faded because Sean couldn’t stand sharing me with anyone. But Dani? She bulldozed right into my life and refused to leave—as much as Sean hated that.
I laugh into her shoulder, already feeling less heavy.
The familiar buzz of voices and clinking glasses wraps around me like a well-worn jumper. This place is all dim lighting, amber sconces, and creaky timber floors. The familiar smell of leather, aged whiskey, and something delicious coming from the kitchen.
There’s always good music playing here. Tonight it’s a mix of country and old school stuff, and it fits perfectly with the vibes. The shelvesbehind the bar glow softly, lined with vintage rum and locally brewed spirits like tiny trophies.
It’s the kind of place where people linger. The regulars give me nods and casual smiles. They know me. This place knows me.
“How are you, Cammie?!” Danielle squeals, her hug is so tight I can’t breathe. She pulls back, hands on my shoulders, giving me the once-over “I’m so damn proud of you, babe.” Another hug, “how are you? Did you get your stuff back yet?” She barely pauses before steamrolling on. “I wish you could stay with me, but my van would be so squishy. Ugh, as soon as a rental opens up, we are so moving in together. Roomies!” She jumps and giggles and hugs me again.
I laugh for what feels like the first time in days.
“I’m… surprisingly okay,” I say, and I mean it. “I feel free. I feel proud of myself, too.” She squeezes my hands and listens. “He reacted like shit,” I admit, “but it could’ve been worse. And no, I haven’t gotten my stuff yet. He was supposed to be gone for work by now, but nope. He’s still there. I really don’t want to see him or talk to him.” My shoulders slump. She pulls me in again, hugging me into her sunshine.
“Babe, that sucks,” she mumbles into my hair. “Hopefully he’ll be gone soon and you can get what you need.” She pulls back, still holding my hands. “Just let me know if you want me to help, okay?”
She knows I’m a private person when it comes to the bad feelings.
Ever since my mum died, I’ve kept the hard things tucked deep inside, like folded letters I never open. She was there one day and gone the next, and the way adults tiptoed around me—like grief was contagious—it taught me quickly, that sadness makes people uncomfortable.
So I learned to smile when I wanted to scream. I learned to nod and say, “I’m fine.” Even when my chest ached with everything I couldn’t say.
And then Sean came along and made hiding my feelings a requirement.
Not just grief,everything. My opinions, my needs, my friends.
I’m only just now remembering what it feels like to really be me again. And it’s terrifying… but it’s also a little bit exhilarating.
I nod. “Thank you.”
She squeezes again and grins. “Now come on. It’s a Friday night. We’ve got drinks to serve and creeps to dodge. We can hang out after our shift and catch up properly.”
I laugh and nod. “Let’s do it.”
5
Jaw dropping brunette
The sun’s still high, and the heat is pressing down like a goddamn anvil. Queensland humidity never lets up, not even in the late afternoon.
I wipe the sweat off my brow with the back of my hand, glancing up at the half-framed house we’ve been working on all week. Another long day under the sun. Another client who wants “just one more little change” that’ll take an extra three hours and throw off the whole timeline.
Running my own construction business was supposed to give me freedom. Control. Instead, it’s made me responsible for every call, every delay, every screw-up. The boys don’t see that part. They just clock off at four and crack open a beer. But me? I’m still sending quotes at 10 p.m. and waking up at five to chase suppliers.
“Oi, Emerson!” Tyler’s voice cuts through the air. “You better not be ghosting tonight. You promised, remember?”
I sigh, “I didn’t promise. I said maybe.”
