If there’s one thing hotter than the roast potatoes, it’s Flint—the man sitting next to me—Chief Sparks. Most people think it’s weird I still come round for dinner with my ex’s family, but Flint insists. Says I shouldn’t spend the holidays alone.
My chest tightens. It’s wrong, I know. I used to date his son, for crying out loud. But Flint Sparks looks at me like he’s about to pull me out of a burning building—and somehow, I want to be the fire.
Our eyes lock, my cheeks burning under his steady, unreadable gaze. It’s been this way most Sundays when he invites me over for dinner with his sister, Ember, and her boyfriend, Drake. I’m sure it’s because he likes to keep an eye on me since my nan passed away, but being here with him at Thanksgiving seems different.
Drake clears his throat, and Flint snaps out of our heated trance and passes him the potatoes.
“Have you heard from my nephew?” Ember says to Flint.
Flint carves more meat from the turkey. “Mason’s having dinner at his mom’s. Said he’d come by later before driving back to college.” He glances my way at the mention of his son. As if to check in that I’m okay about him popping over. Though I doubt I’ll still be here when he comes.
It’s not that I purposely want to avoid him, but now we’re not together anymore and he’s off at college and I’m still here in Starlight Bay, we have nothing in common. Not that we had much in common when we dated. It was just convenient, like an old pair of pyjamas that need throwing out, but they’re so comfortable, you try to sew up the holes but more keep appearing.And let’s not forget the only reason you liked hanging out with him was to be near his dad.
Flint serves two slices of turkey onto Drake’s six-year-old daughter Sienna’s plate. He’s all hard edges and seriousness, but when he smiles at Sienna, my heart melts. It’s the same smile he always regarded me with whenever I would come visit his son. Like a fatherly smile. Someone who just wants to take care of you and keep you safe. As if I were the daughter he never had, he always made me feel welcome. A little cringe when he bought his son condoms, but I guess that’s what any father would do. I wouldn’t know, as my parents abandoned me when I was a baby. My nan was the only family I’ve ever known.
“How’s the job going at the Dockside Grill, Sera?” Ember spoons vegetables onto Sienna’s plate.
I lift the small glass of wine that Flint allowed me and take a sip with a shrug of my shoulder. “It’s all right. I get unlimited free clam chowder, so that’s a bonus.”
Flint places his hand on my shoulder, giving me a reassuring squeeze. “Sera got employee of the month. She hasn’t been there long and is already killing it.” He lets go of my shoulder with a wink and lifts his fork, waving it at me. “Tell them about the tip you got this week.”
My smile widens. “I got a one hundred dollar tip from a lovely couple. I think they were on honeymoon or renewing their vows or something. Merry and Alex were their names, from Magnolia Point.”
“Wow, one hundred?” Sienna says. “Daddy, I want to work at the Dockside Grill when I’m big.”
Drake ruffles her hair. “You can do whatever you want, bug.”
“Have you thought more about college?” Ember says.
My chest deflates, and my shoulders curl inwards. The last thing I want to do is go to college now. I won’t be able to start until next year, and I’ll be with a bunch of high school graduates while all my old friends are in the year above me. “I’m not sure what I want to do.” I lie. I still want to be a tattoo artist, but there weren’t any jobs going at the local studio. Not everyone in this small town wants dragon ink like Drake Coleman. And I don’t have an art degree. That dream went up in smoke when my nan took ill.
Before anyone can respond, the front door creaks open. Heavy boots on hardwood. My chest tightens.
“Speak of the devil,” Ember says as Mason walks in, same swagger, same cocky smile that used to make me swoon, before I realised it was borrowed confidence from his dad.
He halts in the dining room doorway. “Sera? What are you doing here?”
I set down my fork. “Your dad invited me.”
His gaze flicks between me and Flint. “Dad, I told you we’re not getting back together.” He waves his hand at me. “If this is you trying to matchmake?—”
“That’s enough,” Flint says, his voice calm but firm. The kind of voice that makes grown men listen.
I can’t look at either of them. My face burns, the air thick with unspoken things. I look down at my dinner plate. I’ve eaten most of it but begrudge leaving the last of my cheesy cauliflower as I rise from the chair, the legs scraping against the wooden floor. “Thanks for dinner, Chief.”
Flint rises, scrunching his napkin in his hand and tossing it on the table. “Sera?—”
“It’s fine.” My throat tightens. “I’ll see myself out.” I walk into the hall, knocking Mason’s shoulder as I squeeze past him in the doorway, despite wanting to sucker punch him in the throat.
And before Flint can stop me, I step out into the cold, and realise I left my coat. As I turn around in a huff, I’m met by Mason, my coat hanging from his finger, a furrow in his brow as if he’s annoyed to see me here.
I snatch my coat from his finger and wrap it around me, then hunt in my pocket for my car keys.
“I’m sorry…” Mason kicks the brown leaves surrounding the porch.
“For what? Ruining my dinner or dumping me?” I don’t care about the latter, but Iwasenjoying my dinner.
In the corner of my eye, I notice the curtain twitch in the front room. Flint nods his head as if to silently ask if I’m all right.
