Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Bryce
The drive down the coast seems to take forever. But it’s still not enough time for me to work out exactly what I’m going to say to Claire. I’m still kind of pissed at her for not giving me the chance to explain, but at the same time, I get it.
I did stand her up after all, and she had no idea where I’d gone. What else was she supposed to think other than I’d ditched her? And then, when she blocked me, I tried to go around the boundary she set by calling her from another number, just like her dickhead of an ex.
In the end, I decide to go with what’s in my heart. I want her, and I want to be with her. I only hope she wants to be with me.
My phone rings and I glance at it. It’s Kylie. She doesn’t call me very often, and something twists in my chest. I answer the call.
“Kyles? Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, we’re fine,” she says. “Sorry to call you, but is there any chance you might want to come to the Inlet pub tonight?” She sounds a bit breathless.
“The Inlet pub? Now why would I want to go there?” I choose my words carefully, trying to ignore the little spurt of hope inside me.
“Uh, I’m just going there for a drink and thought you might want to come.”
“Oh yeah? And why would a pregnant lady be heading to the pub, Kyles?”
“I’m meeting a friend and…” She stops talking for a second. “Ah, I can’t do this shit.”
I grin, waiting. Kylie is no good at subterfuge.
“Listen, I saw Claire today. She’s broken up, mate. She thought that photo you posted on Instagram of Millie was a photo of your new girlfriend. That’s why she cut you off. And she felt like absolute shit when I told her what was going on with you, just about passed out in the street.”
“She did?” I keep my voice calm, despite the leaping hope inside me.
“I had to hold her up. She tried to call you there and then, but couldn’t get through.”
Fuck. I was an idiot to block her. We’ve both been idiots.
“I offered to call you, but she said no. She rang me later. She wants to say sorry, Bryce, but I think she still… I don’t know.
I hate putting my oar in, but you two idiots are perfect for each other and you know it.
So I thought maybe, if you were coming to the pub tonight, you might just bump into each other on the way to the bar or something and—”
“I’m already on my way down, Kyles.” Warmth blooms inside me. “Jeff got to me as well. Said sometimes you need to go find someone and tell them how you feel. I decided to take his advice.”
“Well, that’s just brilliant,” she says. “Because frankly, I am knackered and the last thing I feel like doing is going out. So go get her. And then you better bring her over for dinner. Not tonight, though.”
I laugh out loud. “Kyles, if I get her back tonight, we are not going to be spending time eating dinner at yours, that’s for fucking certain.”
“Eww, Bryce. I don’t need to know that.” She’s giggling, though. “Right, I’ll let you go. And good luck.”
“Thanks. For everything.”
I hang up, my mood lifting. I’m not far from Torquay, and soon I’m on the Great Ocean Road, heading along the winding curves towards Airey’s Inlet.
Towards Claire.
Claire
The pub is busy. I wish I was anywhere but here. Memories of Bryce are all around me. Leaning against the bar, winking at me, kissing me, protecting me. Making my heart pound every time he glances my way. Welcoming me and my friends into his group as though he’d always known us.
What a complete fucking idiot I’ve been.
I sip at my drink, half-heartedly. Joss and Sal have given up trying to talk to me. Instead, they keep exchanging worried glances, as though I’m not even sitting there.
“Sorry guys.” I’m close to tears. “I’m not very good company tonight.” I’d have gone home already, if it wasn’t for Kylie. She’s not here yet, and I don’t want to stand her up. But I’m ruining Joss and Sal’s evening, sitting here like a sad sack.
“I’m just going to the loo,” I say. “I’ll be back in a sec.
” I leave my bag on the table; it’s not like I care about touching up my lip gloss.
I just want to splash some cold water on my face and see if I can jolt myself out of this funk.
The familiar ache throbs in my chest at the thought of Bryce.
How could I have underestimated him like I did?
I miss him so much it hurts. I wonder if it will ever stop.
Cold water doesn’t do anything, though, except make me cold. I pat my face dry with a paper towel, staring at myself in the mirror. I’m pale, with dark circles under my eyes.
“You need to snap out of this.” I frown at my reflection. “Tell him you’re sorry and move on.”
Feeling slightly bolstered, I leave the bathroom. But before I get back to the table someone grabs my arms from the back, pushing me through the crowd. The touch is gentle, and for a split second I think it might be Bryce, that he’s come back to me.
But a familiar scent of patchouli wafts through my nostrils, and to my horror I realise that it’s Simon.
“Let go of me!”
“Please, Claire, I just want to talk to you.”
He turns me around so I’m backed up against the wall near the door, and have nowhere to go. I glance around frantically, but there’s no Bryce here to save me this time. Simon presses against me, pushing me into the wall. I turn my head, trying to avoid his mouth. “Get off me!”
I manage to get my hands between us and shove him away, but he grabs my arms again, pulling me out of the door of the pub.
“Hey!” someone shouts, but Simon keeps dragging me away and into the car park.
My feet tangle underneath me and I try to scream, but it’s stuck in my throat. I’m terrified. I don’t know what he’s going to do to me. “Please, please, no,” I choke out, tears running down my cheeks. “Please let me go.”
“You all right there, mate?” A couple of guys crossing the car park stop.
“Yeah, mate. She’s just had a few too many and I need to get her home,” Simon laughs, sounding completely reasonable, like he’s not the most terrible person in the world. The men laugh, too.
“Please, help me,” I gasp, but it’s like one of those nightmares where you scream and nothing comes out, terror taking my voice.
Simon pulls me between the cars, fumbling in his pocket with one hand while still holding me tightly with the other, his fingers digging painfully into my wrist. There’s a flash of lights.
I realise we’re next to his car, a black four-wheel drive.
I try to pull away but he opens the passenger-side door, pushing me inside.
I kick out at him, fear spurring me on, but he fends me off, slamming the door shut.
I immediately slide across to the other door but he’s too fast for me, coming around and getting into the driver’s seat, locking the doors.
I shrink back against the passenger door, fumbling behind me for the latch, not wanting him to touch me.
“You better put a seatbelt on,” he says, his voice totally calm and normal. “You don’t want to get hurt.” His gaze comes to me. “Hurting you is the last thing I want to do.”
We’re already moving, gravel crunching beneath the wheels. I find my voice.
“What the fuck are you doing? Let me out of here!” I flick the lock open, but he locks the doors again.
“No, Claire. I’ve tried. I really have. I’ve given you space and the opportunity to talk to me. But you haven’t taken it. So I’m taking it. We need to talk.”