The floor was tacky beneath his feet as he crossed the scarred linoleum to the fridge. The appliance was old and thankfully empty, but the stink from being turned off and closed up for a couple of years was appalling and Finn gagged at the odor. Hesucked in a breath and held it as he slammed the door. The bile rose in his throat as he wrenched open the back door and stepped onto the small veranda. He drew in lungfuls of the fresh air as he tried to bring the heaving under control.Fuck!
The need to puke summed up his entire situation—his whole life was a fucked-up mess.
Goddamn Rocky!
Finn’s insides were twisted just thinking about him.And being in this house, the place where they’d grown up together, wasn’t helping. But there was no way in hell he was living with Rocky and whoever else was staying with him in that mausoleum he was so proud of.
When the nausea passed, Finn straightened and focused on getting his breathing back into a regular rhythm. It was pleasant outside, unlike in the house. The backyard, although untendedand overgrown, stretched for a long way until it finally blended into the bushland beyond. There wasn’t a fence separating the large acre block from the neighboring national park, so the sense of space was wonderful. Long grass brushed his jeans as he pushed through the area that should have been mown lawn, but even when he was a kid, it was never kept very short. Finn glanced to the large garagewhere the lawn mower used to be stored. Every now and then, his dad would demand he cut the grass, but usually his father had other things to worry about.
The timber door was warm under Finn’s fingers, the sun already heating the pale gray boards. It was going to be a beautiful day. The door creaked but swung open, exposing the dark interior. A piece of the roof was missing, a whole section ofcorrugated iron fallen away, letting in a wide beam of light. Tools and gardening equipment still lined the walls. Boxes were stacked in the corner—God knew what they contained and whether the contents would be any good anyway, given the state of the building and the fact they were standing on hard, compact dirt. Between the elements, the bugs, and the rats, the whole property was falling apart.
Dust motes danced in the air, and the smell of dirt and motor oil filled Finn’s nostrils, bringing with it a rush of memories. The smell reminded him of good times. The smell reminded him of bad times.
Suddenly he couldn’t stand the direction his thoughts were headed. Just stepping out of the garage was a relief. The light breeze helped clear his head, the familiar buzz of cicadas filled theair, and a magpie called in the distance. Finn took one last look at the bush and suppressed the desire to walk into its depths and just keep on walking. Instead he faced the run-down old timber house. Finn hoped putting some elbow grease into cleaning the place up would give him something to focus on.And when that is finished?Well, then maybe he would do some renovations, restore the placeto how it had been when his mum was around.
One thing was certain: he preferred to plan his own future, have something of his own to concentrate on, because the alternative was unthinkable. The heaviness in his chest returned at the thought of working with Rocky, but what choice did he have?
