Clara watched him for a moment, and he felt a little warm under her scrutiny. ‘Ah, your ex. Sorry if I’m prying, but I’ve always wondered about her. You don’t have to say, obviously, but what’s the story?’
He flicked a glance at her, then back to the road. This wasn’t something he wanted to unpack – not with someone who saw the best in people. Not when his own choices might not stand up to scrutiny. Clara was kind, and he trusted her not to gossip, but what if she thought less of him for it?
‘It’s… complicated,’ he said finally. ‘Olive had a lot going on. Still does. I tried to help however I could – read up on things, offered support, even suggested counselling once.’ He huffed out a dry laugh. ‘That didn’t go down well.’
Clara’s brow knit. ‘That must’ve been awful. You were just trying to help.’
‘I was, but my help wasn’t wanted.’ He shrugged. ‘I wanted to understand, but she saw it as interfering. And after a while, I started wondering if itwasmy fault – if I’d somehow caused her issues. I read all these articles about toxic relationships and “red flags”, and I thought, maybe that’s me. Maybe I’m the problem.’ He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. ‘She saidI was gaslighting her. And for a while, I believed it. But looking back… it feels like she was the one doing that to me.’
Clara’s mouth fell open. ‘Oh my god. Sam, that’s awful. You? A red flag? You’re practically neon green. The way you help people is legendary.’
‘Thanks for saying so.’ He gave a small, crooked smile. ‘I hope you’re right. It was a confusing time. Still is, sometimes. I keep asking myself what I did wrong, but… it’s the past now. I’ve made my bed.’
Without hesitation, she rested a hand on his thigh. ‘I’m sorry it ended like that,’ she said softly.
‘It’s fine. I get by.’
‘Get by?’ She gave his shoulder a light pat. ‘You deserve better thangetting by.’
He laughed quietly, almost like a half sigh. ‘If you say so. But really, plenty of people have it worse. I can’t complain.’
And just then – forgetting the upheaval, the uncertainty, the ghosts of old mistakes – he realised it was true. For the first time in a long while, things felt simple and unexpectedly good. Even if it was only temporary. But he’d learned to take what he could, when he could. Because life was uncertain – especially if someone else held all the power.
Chapter Thirteen
Clara
Sam rolled the car to a stop at the service station, unbuckled his seatbelt, and leaned over to grab his wallet from the centre console. Clara’s eyes drifted to his forearms. They’d caught her attention before, but now they were really holding it – the corded muscle, the flex of sinew beneath skin. He was a unit, as the students would say. Unexpectedly so. She bit her lip as he hopped out to fuel up.
Stop it,she muttered, loosening the neckline of her top.Stop sexualising your friend.Especially now that she’d agreed to be his fake date. The idea made her chuckle, though she knew it wouldn’t be as exciting in real life as it was in films. She understood the assignment fully. Stop his rakish friend from ribbing him about being single. It was a nominal role more than anything else, and she was happy to do it for him.
But when she glanced out the window and saw him lifting the petrol pump, that resolve melted. It was impossible not to notice him – not when he moved like that, sleeves rolled and sunlight sliding over his arms. Lissa’s words floated through her head,the teasing tone still vivid.Smoke-show,she’d called him. Clara had laughed then, but she wasn’t laughing now.
Maybe this was just what happened when you’d been single too long – the brain started throwing sparks at anything remotely appealing. Still, there was a difference betweennoticingandwanting. And did she actually want that with Sam?
If she did, it would only be for the benefits – a mutual favour between friends, a bit of uncomplicated fun. Except would it be uncomplicated? Did any amount of physical starvation justify risking a friendship that felt this good? Was that something they could add to the arrangement?
Now, I’m being ridiculous.She shook the thoughts from her head.
No doubt one day he’d meet someone and make a brilliant partner – the kind who remembered anniversaries and offered to cook dinner even after a long day. Clara watched him disappear inside to pay, a soft twist tugging at her chest. Cheesy as it sounded, whoever ended up with him would be lucky. He’d make someone very happy one day.
Her frown came almost on cue. He really shouldn’t be paying for everything. This wasn’t an old-fashioned setup; she could contribute. Unclipping her seat belt, she pushed the door open and stepped out; the petrol fumes hit her nose immediately.
Automatic doors whooshed wide as she reached the shop, and she slipped past a couple of people queuing for coffee. Sam was almost at the counter, wallet in hand. Clara watched the easy curve of his smile before reminding herself why she’d come in. She wasn’t mooning over him – she was paying her share. That was all.
She tapped his shoulder, and he turned, giving her a curious look. ‘Hey. You ok?’
‘Yeah, fine. I just feel like I should contribute something to the trip.’ She sidled closer to him as someone needed past her to getinto another aisle. ‘You’re paying for all this, and I feel like I’m just hijacking your holiday. Let me pay for this.’
Sam shook his head. ‘Absolutely not. I was coming anyway. You’re helping me, you shouldn’t have to pay for the privilege.’
‘I really don’t mind. Otherwise, I feel like a hanger-on.’
‘You’re definitely not that. You’re my fake date.’ He nudged her lightly with his elbow, and they both laughed. He tapped his card on the machine, then popped it back in his wallet. ‘You know, I think I’m always going to picture you now as a squashed plastic version of a date,’ he said as they reached the doors, and waited as a large family came in. ‘Not exactly a flattering image for someone who’s… well, as pretty as you.’
A rush of warmth burst onto Clara’s cheeks. She gave him a little grin. ‘Thank you, Sam.’
‘For what? Comparing you to a squashed fruit?’
