My life choices were my own to live with, but the fact Cameron wasn’t willing to admit was that he’d been gifted the best of both worlds: a successful career and a family, off the back ofmyfree labour.
All these years later, I was the one with nothing to show for it. No qualifications. No work experience beyond my ability to follow a YouTube recipe.
“Maybe,” I mumbled now. “Thanks for the advice.”
“You know, despite everything, I still care about you, Lala, I want you to be happy.” A hint of a smile lingered in his voice.
“I know you do,” I said flatly, just wanting this conversation to be over. “Look, I need to get to work, so—” My words cut off as shouts rose behind me. Something soft brushed my leg, knocking me off balance. I righted myself with a gasp, twisting in time to see a dog.
I recognised Boy immediately – I knew April and Mal through Heather. My quick smile at his excited bark turned almost instantaneously to horror when he bounded into the road, right into the path of an oncoming camper van.
Oh god.
It was the sharp sensation of my thin-soled shoes slapping against the cobblestones that clued me in to the fact I was running, darting into the road after him. My need to prove I wasn’t entirely useless sparking my limbs into action.
I hit the middle of the road, and the world flipped into slow motion.
The camper van driver slammed the brakes. Too late. Much too late.
I didn’t realise I was screaming until a deep voice yelled back.
The camper van was barely two feet away. Still coming right at me.
I’m going to fucking die. The knowledge was short and sharp. Like a cold-water plunge.
What would my headstone read?Here lies Isla Lang, who died in an act of great bravery. Or,Died how she lived: foolishly and without thought.
I pictured Teddy, her beautiful face filling every corner of my mind, right before something struck me from the side and I hit the pavement.
6
Isla
Hey, Google. Play “Holding Out for a Hero” by Bonnie Tyler
My eyes slammed closed as shock reverberated through my entire body. My ears were ringing. Blood pounding. I’d – I’d been hit. Something was crushing me.
Ohgod . . .ohgod.HowamInotdead?Wait. . .amIdead?
It took an embarrassingly long time to realise it wasn’t a car, but another body, pressing the length of mine into the ground. That slightly roughened hands were cupping my head, protecting it from the stone.
“Holy shit!” I panted into the wide chest that smelled faintly like antiseptic and something more expensive.
Definitely a man.
That hand moved to the top of my spine and squeezed. I tensed, curling my fingers into soft fabric. Was he . . . stroking me? The touch turned probing – efficient and thorough – and I realised he was checking me for injuries.
Muscles starting to relax, I prepared myself for the onslaught of concerned questions sure to follow. AnI’m finealready lined up on the tip of my tongue.A broken leg, you say? Don’t worry, I’ll walk it right off.
Except, what he said was, “What the fuck were you thinking, Isla?” The voice was hard. Almost growling. Vaguely familiar.
“Oh my god, oh my god,Isla! Please don’t say she’s dead!” Another voice added to the fray – female – worried and breathless.
My mind and body were out of sync. Everything felt fuzzy, my thoughts racing too quickly to keep up. My rescuer held me so tightly I could scarcely turn my head, my view tunnelled to the collar of a thick navy jumper and a prominent Adam’s apple.
“You can let me go now,” I said. Struggling, I tilted my chin back, finding an upside-down redhead staring down at me. Her green eyes were wide, teeth gnawing at her full lower lip as the man holding me drew back an inch, and I finally got a good look at him.
Perfect hair. Bristled jaw. Permanent scowl.
