45. Chapter 42
Chance
“ F or fuck sake, JJ! You don’t cook the packet!”
“You didn’t tell me that!” he argued, joining me in waving smoke out of the kitchen windows in hopes of getting the smoke alarm to shut off.
“I didn’t think I had to!” I defended.
“You said, ‘Yeah, bro, just chuck the whole pack in’! No part of that sentence implies any removal of the actual packet!”
“I’m going to put you in the microwave if I’m not only late for meeting Sunny, but I also turn up smelling like I’ve just walked out of a fucking cremation,” I growled.
“Don’t be so dramatic. She used to smoke; she’ll be fine.”
“Really?” I asked. The smoke alarm finally stopped blaring, so I took the opportunity to whip JJ with the tea towel I was holding.
“Ow! The fuck, dude?!” He rubbed his ass, right where I’d snapped it.
“You owe me.”
“Yeah, yeah. Add it to the list.” He waved me off. “You ready?”
“I was . Until you sauna-ed our kitchen with burning plastic.” I undid the black button-up I’d chosen and yanked it off. After tossing it into the laundry as I passed it, I pulled down a navy blue button-up from my closet in the next room.
“JJ! Where are the keys?!” I called, checking my wallet and phone in my pocket.
“Got ’em!”
I pulled out my phone and fired off a quick text to Sunny before almost sprinting down the hall. JJ tossed me the keys and a foil packet crinkled in my hand.
There, dangling off a new keychain, were three packaged condoms.
“Oh, my god. I’m gonna kill you,” I grumbled.
“What?! Why?! I’m just looking out for you two!”
I picked them off one by one and tossed them at him. “C’mon, dude! I don’t need Sunny seeing that shit!” I stomped off towards the door.
“It’s okay, bro! There’s some in my glove box if you need them too!”
~
I couldn’t help the smile that came to my face on the drive to Knock’s. The last twenty-four hours had been bliss—seeing Sunny drop her walls was beyond anything I could have imagined. It was like having the heat finally click over on a cool winter night—full of warmth and reassurance.
I’d called in an order to the Rustic Roo for two of Mari’s favourites—courtesy of JJ’s wealth of knowledge.
Nancy and Patty had been more than happy to stay open a little late for us once I name dropped that the food would be for Sunny.
Well, not Sunny. Mari. She was Mari to the rest of the world; she was a ray of fucking sunshine to me.
I floated down the street freely in neutral, giving JJ’s ute a break from the strain of running the old motor.
Not a cloud in the sky, orange and pinks painted a picturesque dusk.
Even the birds seemed to be watching above from all of the nearby trees.
Nothing dared interrupt the beautiful evening the sun had given us.
The gravel at the base of the driveway crunched as the ute ran over it. I didn’t even bother trying to get the old girl up the driveway — we’d probably just roll straight back down. I didn’t bother pulling the keys out of the ignition either. Soggla was safe; I felt safe.
A very angry Sunny met me halfway up the driveway. Stormed over to me would be a more accurate description, a deep frown etched onto her face, cheeks flushed a dark pink.
“Sunny what’s—”
“Fuck off, Riordan.”
Well, that’s certainly a change in tune.
I grabbed her elbow as she went to push by me.
“Let go.”
“What’s wrong?” I demanded, ignoring her request. “Sunny, what’s happened?”
I reached a hand up to tuck that one stubborn curl from her face but was met with angry black eyes. Not the warm honey when she was happy, or the hazel hues when she was sad—onyx black for when she was angry.
“Get your fucking hands off me,” she growled before yanking her arm free and continuing on her path.
As soon as my foot lifted to chase after her, a voice called out to me from the peak of the driveway. “Chance, baby!”
Oh … fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Her silhouette on top of the hill stood tall.
She must have been wearing those ridiculously overpriced heels that cost all of my fight winnings from the main card I’d been on over in Perth last year.
Even from halfway down the driveway, I still tensed at those icy eyes on me.
Not in the way Sunny made me tense, from heat and eagerness to touch her.
No, this was like having a snake dance in front of you.
You knew it was going to strike, but all you could do was anticipate and attempt to dodge.
I chose to dodge.
I kicked myself back into motion, moving on the path Sunny had taken. The street was empty, and JJ’s ute was gone.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Chance, love! It’s so good to see you! I’ve missed you!” Talia screeched, weaving that faux silky voice through her tone.
It was all fake. I knew that now.
Ignoring my shitbag of an ex-wife, I took off down the street towards Sunny and Marilyn’s house. The fact that she was walking down the driveway in those stupid heels would buy me a few minutes at least.
“Chance! Chance, baby! Come back!”
My stomach, along with every other organ inside of me, recoiled at that voice,.
I spotted her Mercedes on the street, black and shining proudly under the orange sky that didn’t feel as beautiful anymore.
No.
No, no, no, no.
Soggla was my home now.
JJ, Al, and Marilyn were part of that.
Knock’s and the locals were too.
Sunny is part of that .
She couldn’t be.
I didn’t want her to be.
“Why are you here, Talia?” I yelled back at her.
“What do you mean, darling?”
I flinched at the name I had called Sunny — a name I’d only ever used in love.
“Don’t call me that,” I growled as she finally reached the bottom of the driveway.
She huffed out a breath, clearly not impressed with the conditions of the gravel she had had to navigate.
“Why on earth are you here, Talia?”
“Because I’m here to bring my husband home,” she defended. “You just up and left—no note, no text, no goodbye—nothing. I thought you were dead!”
“Bullshit. I left you notes, a lot of them actually,” I replied, referring to the divorce papers I’d left on the kitchen counter.
She narrowed those soul-sucking eyes on me, a move that would have had me anticipating a fist coming my way before. But she knew better than to throw down now, on my home turf.
“You made your point with your little tantrum. I’m willing to forgive you,” she replied, lifting her chin as if she was the bigger person here.
“Good for you, Talia. But I’m not willing to forgive you .”
“You know what this means, Chance.” She pulled out her phone, a new bedazzled case covering the huge screen. “The world will have to know who you really are; how you really treat your wife.”
“You have no proof,” I gritted through my teeth.
She smirked and raised her eyebrows in challenge. “My word is proof enough. Why would anyone believe you—a UFL fighter —over me, your poor, innocent wife who spoke when she was told not to.”
“You’re disgusting.” My heart thundered in my chest, echoing through the hollow cavity as it sank.
I’d been stupid—so fucking stupid—to think I could escape her so easily. To think she wouldn’t retaliate.
‘ If you ever leave me, I will make your life a living hell ,’ she’d always said.
And here she was, here to fulfill that promise.
“Oh, boo-boo, don’t be so hurtful,” she cooed, one of her signature cruel smirks on her blown-up lips.
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you, baby. All of you.” She stepped closer.
Her sweet perfume was so strong I bit down hard on my tongue to force my gag back. A manicured hand ran claws up my forearm. Her fake nails were so long they might as well have been fucking claws.
“Name your price, Talia,” I ground out, stepping back. “Name your price so I can be rid of you.”
“Is this all about that little skank who was here earlier?” Her face scrunched, all of the botox in her face fighting the movement.
“No, Talia,” I replied, forcing exasperation into my tone in attempt to steer her away from Sunny.
“This is about me being done with the beatdowns. The … the … the abuse and shit I’ve put up with for the last six years.
It’s about me being done with you thinking you fucking own me; my choices; my money; my life. This is about me being done with you .”
My heart was thundering a million miles an hour, but it eased slightly after getting the words I’d never said out.
She rolled her eyes.
“Get in the car, Chance. We’ll go back to JJ’s and get your things,” she said, brushing off my words as if they’d simply never been said.
“Not happening. I’d rather walk the five kilometres than get in a car with you,” I replied over my shoulder and stalked off.
Her car pulled away and sped off after her third attempt at getting me to turn around.
Once the black Mercedes of doom that reminded me all too much of a bond villain’s car was out of sight, I swung around and ran.
I ran down the street, past the old flower shop and Marilyn’s beloved bookshop.
I passed the towering eucalyptus tree that took up an entire empty lot of land.
I passed the clock shop, where old Lucky Rollins was flipping over his ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’. I kept running and running.
All the way to Sunny’s front door.