In simple terms, I was fucked.
I couldn’t get a loan because my credit score had dipped so low because of the amount of debt I was in. Debt I’d been forced to go into because the store was struggling. Debt I was now beginning to see as a giant brick wall, reaching up so high I couldn’t climb over it.
I slammed the car door of my truck closed, chucking the proposal onto the passenger seat, not bothering to pick up the papers when they went flying.
My knuckles turned white as I gripped the wheel.
No amount of swallowing got rid of the lump forming in my throat. I pinched my eyes closed, feeling hot tears prickle behind my eyelids.
I was losing it. Losingher.
Losing the very thing my mother had wanted more than anything. Something I couldn’t give her whilst she breathed but honoured her with in death. And I was fucking losing it.
Without thinking, I reached into the pocket of this ridiculous suit and pulled out my phone, then stopped. I couldn’t call my brother. This wasn’t his burden to carry.
My friends were pretty much nonexistent. Since I worked all the time, it didn’t lend itself to connecting with people. Heading for forty quicker than I’d like, and I could count on one hand the friends I had, one of those doubled as my brother.
Like I always did, even when I didn’t want to, I thought about Rosie. Her message yesterday, asking if I’d forgotten about the trip away to surprise Oliver, was the first contact we’d had since our date.
Since the kiss that had lingered on my lips for days.
Panic clawed its way up my throat. All I wanted was to hear her voice. The soft cadence that could always ease the growing knot inside my stomach.
My thumb hovered over her name. What would I even say?
Had a shit day and wanted to hear your voice because you make me feel better.
That’s the kind of thing you do with a partner. Not someone you were helping win a bet. And not someone like Rosie. Someone who viewed relationships like an anchor pulling you down to the depths of the ocean.
Our kiss hadn’t been the only thing that replayed over and over again in my head. Our conversation that night had solidified things. I’m not sure why her aversion to anything more than a quick fuck was so strong, but hearing her talk was enough to know that this thing between us wasn’t real. I’d offered to help her out, no strings attached. That fact needed to get nailed through my goddamn skull.
We had chemistry. That spark had been there from day one. But Rosie had chemistry with everyone. I’d witnessed how she’d shine in a room full of people, all of them staring in awe at this person who didn’t seem quite real. She was magnetic.
If we gave into the attraction, I had no doubt she’d kick me to the curb the moment it was over. That thought was almost as devastating as watching my life’s work go up in flames. I needed to keep a safe distance away from her. Difficult thing to do when we were headed for a weekend away together with another couple who were sickeningly in love.
I dropped the phone into the passenger seat, no calmer than I was ten minutes ago, and started driving.
Two days later,I was hauling stock around the store room, when my phone buzzed. Oliver had been messagingme all morning. In the hurry of putting together a proposal for the bank, I’d neglected him. And apparently two weeks was as long as my brother’s patience lasted. I ignored it and carried on working.
A bead of sweat trickled down my spine as I hiked the last bag of mulch over my shoulder and dropped it onto the trailer. The physical exertion wasn’t doing much to lift the black cloud hanging over my head.
I rubbed at the spot above my chest. Where the only piece of ink I had was etched into my skin.
‘Hey, boss.’ Tim’s head peeked around the door. His fingers were dirty from repotting some of the older plants. ‘Some guy is here to see you and Steve has spent the last ten minutes talking his ear off. Thought you might want to know.’
‘Thanks, Tim.’ I clapped him on the shoulder as I passed. He headed back to work and my phone rang. A grunt of irritation rumbled up my throat. Oliver needed to chill the fuck out. Since the season had ended, he was acting like a kid on school holidays. Moping about, bored. I was about to pull it out and tell him to get a grip when my eyes snagged on a head of thin grey hair in the corner, nodding enthusiastically to Steve, who was holding up a fern and pointing excitedly to its leaves.
Forgetting about answering the phone, I hightailed it across the room.
‘These are notoriously difficult to kill. However, I’ve owned three in the past year, and all have succumbed to an untimely death. I’m not sure why precisely, but I plan to find out.’ Steve nodded firmly, as if it was a murder enquiry, and he was the lead detective.
‘Dad.’ My voice sounded breathless as I stopped next to the two men.
A smile pulled on Dad’s lips as soon as he turned around. ‘George.’ His face was wrinkled and aged, each line testament to the amount of life he’d lived. ‘How are you, son?’
His arms immediately opened—I didn’t think twice before stepping into his embrace. Wrapping my arms around him, I was conscious of how frail he felt under my hands. How thin. But the comfort of his hugs never failed to restore my flagging energy. When we pulled away, I noted the bags under his eyes were more pronounced than ever.
‘I’ll leave you both to it. It’s lovely to see you again, Peter.’ Steve smiled at him, giving me a swift nod, whistling as he headed back to the register.
