Chapter 33 Breaking Point #2
She lets out a shaky breath. “I know I hijacked your trip a little. And I’m sorry, okay? I probably shouldn’t have come. But I hardly ever saw you when you were with Toby. I missed you.”
The anger drains out of me, fast and sickening.
“Elle…”
“I’ve been drowning too, Lil. My job was bleeding me dry.
Do you think it’s fun, seeing how many marriages I can dismantle before lunch?
” She shakes her head. “The Wizarding World is my reset button. It helps me escape, to breathe. Only…I have no one to share it with.” Her eyes fill, blinking fast even as the tears fall.
“I really thought I’d have a couple of kids by now to torment with this stuff. But there’s only you.”
Regret hits me hard and fast. “Elle, if this is about…”
I can’t say it. But I don’t have to.
“I never even met her,” she whispers. “And I know it’s been years, but…
that’s the day I stopped feeling alive.” She sniffles.
“Quitting my job was the best decision I ever made. I know I’ll have to go back to reality eventually, but for now…
I thought this was good. Being here. With you.
” She turns, eyes wet and searching. “Has it really been that bad having me here?”
“No, of course not. I just…Jack—tonight—” I choke. “I didn’t realise you were hurting so much.”
But I should have. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t think it would bring her to tears. I was so wrapped up in my own pain I missed all of hers.
“Anyway, I guess that’s the road trip cancelled,” she mumbles. “I don’t know what I was thinking, dragging you along to something so…stupid.”
“No, don’t say that.” I reach for her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I want to go with you. I really do. I’m sorry if I made it sound like I didn’t.”
She removes the keys from the ignition but makes no move to get out. “It’s fine. I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t mean to make this about me. Tonight, or any of it. You’ve got your own problems to deal with.”
“I’m still here for you, Elle. If you want to talk about it…”
“I don’t. I just need to grow up.”
I wince at hearing my words said back to me.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” I say, staring down at my hands.
She doesn’t reply.
I want to apologise again, but it wouldn’t do any good. I’m not even sure who hurt who anymore, only that it’s left us both feeling crummy.
Today was the emotional whiplash I didn’t need.
The car has grown stuffy, airless, crowded with everything we’ve said—and everything we haven’t. I can’t stand it—not after hurting her. I need air. I need space.
I get out, swinging my guitar case over the back, and stride away from the cottage.
“Where are you going?” Ellenor calls.
“A walk. Just to the beach.”
“But it’s going to rain.”
“It’s not going to rain,” I argue. I don’t care what the sky’s doing, and the distant sulky clouds on the horizon don’t scare me. I’ve seen uglier black things barrel over Manly. “I just need a few minutes to clear my head.”
“Don’t go far,” she says as we get out of the car.
“I won’t,” I reply, but I already know it’s not true. I’m going to walk that beach until I find something—anything—that will drown out tonight. Anything to escape feeling like this.
“At least leave your guitar!” she shouts as I cross the quiet road.
I hitch it higher on my back. “I might play it!”
Another lie. I won’t.
“You won’t,” Toby agrees.
***
The beach is almost empty, just the hush of tide over shingle and the wind curling my hair. Pebbles shift beneath my ballet flats as I walk, the cottage roofs shrinking into the dark.
This wasn’t how tonight was meant to go. I thought Ellenor and Brandon would be at the gig with me—maybe Sean too—and we’d all grab a few drinks to celebrate our last night. Even Jack, I hoped, would say a quick goodbye.
The distant clouds bruise darker, the air cooling. I should have brought a jacket, or at least my cardigan. I keep walking, half-hoping the storm will reach me.
A bit of rain won’t hurt. Not more than Jack has.
It’s eerily quiet. It makes me yearn for home—for the crashing waves of Manly Beach that can knock the breath out of you.
This is another world. The sea lies still here, smooth as a mirror.
Jack’s face keeps flashing in my mind, his smile so charming that I let him manipulate me. It felt good to have someone believe in me; to tell me what to do so I wouldn’t have to think.
“And this is the price,” I mutter.
I don’t realise how far I’ve walked until the slipway appears.
A cold gust flicks my hair as I set the gig bag down and pull my guitar out. I carry it down the rough incline, the cobblestones slick with seaweed, until the sea brushes the toes of my glittery shoes.
I sit, legs crossed and lungs tight.
The last thing I want to do is play when I feel so gutted, but Jack’s threat makes it vital that I do. My fingers hover, uncertain, but then muscle memory takes over. I start fingerpicking a soft pattern, just something to keep my hands busy. Tentative notes.
Suddenly, a small promise sparks in my chest: I’m going to play, even when I don’t feel like it.
My breathing falls into the rhythm, in and out, following the melody, my agitation sinking into a raw calm.
The last time I was here was with Brandon.
He believed in me, without noise or empty flattery. His faith was something I could lean on.
And if he did have feelings for me—if all those little moments meant what Ellenor thinks they do—then he wasn’t holding back because he wasn’t interested. He was holding back because he was giving me space. Space I didn’t even realise I needed until now.
Because what happened with Jack… God, it hurts so much more than it should. Even though we only went on one date—three, if I count the castle and the barbecue—I’ve trusted him for weeks. Letting him read my songs. Letting him in. It was too soon. I wasn’t ready to have someone break my trust again.
The song ends, and I pick up a pebble and flick it towards the water, trying to skip it the way Brandon once did.
Plop.
I smile ruefully, thinking of how he’d chuckle if he were here.
The wind lifts goose bumps across my arms, seeping through the thin fabric of my dress and making me shiver. I huddle behind my guitar, wishing for my cardigan.
Wishing, stupidly, for Brandon.
I pull out my phone, thumb hovering over his name.
“Don’t bother him. Why would he want to hear from you now?”
I grit my teeth and ignore the voice.
Yes. I’m going to call him.
But just as I’m about to tap the green call button, the screen lights up.
Brandon Ward calling.
My heart stumbles, giddy warmth rushing through me as I stare at his name.
I swipe to answer.
“Brandon, hi.”
“Hi. Are you still at the café?”
“No, Ellenor picked me up. Actually, I was just about to call you.” I toy with a strand of seaweed with the toe of my shoe.
Surprise enters his voice. “You were?”
“Yes.”
I missed you. The silent words hum through me, resonant as a struck chord.
I ignore it as I continue. “I wanted to see if you were okay after the barbecue. You left pretty suddenly.”
“Yeah. I just needed a bit of space.” A rustle, like he’s shifting his grip on the phone. “So, the reason I called was to apologise to you. I shouldn’t have hit Jack. I don’t like scenes, and I hate that you had to see that.”
“You were protecting me,” I murmur. “And I know some of that was about how he treated Natalie. I can’t believe he left her like that.”
“I was angry, but…unsurprised.” A pause. “I should have warned you about him.”
“Why didn’t you?” I ask, brushing the strings idly as I prop the phone against my ear.
“I hoped he’d changed. Wishful thinking on my part, but at the time, you seemed comfortable around him. He was being supportive with your music, helping you in ways I couldn’t. I didn’t want to interfere or poison your view of him before you’d formed your own opinion.”
“Well, I’ve definitely formed an opinion now.” I rise and begin pacing along the ramp, guitar in hand, careful to avoid the tracks. “It turns out you were right about him. Jack and I…it’s over.” I swallow. “He—he used my songs tonight. Claimed them. Well, tried to.”
“What do you mean?” Brandon asks sharply.
“He tried to stop me from singing lead. But I played a song anyway—that one you suggested. As a solo, right at the very end. He didn’t take it well. After, when I was leaving…” I stop pacing and look at the dark water. “He threatened to take my songs.”
Brandon doesn’t reply right away. When he does, his voice has dropped even lower. “He can’t do that.”
I close my eyes. “I think he can. I don’t know if I can prove they’re mine.” A weary sigh escapes me. “Ellenor thinks he might have just said it in the heat of the moment.”
“That’s possible.” He doesn’t sound convinced.
“Do you think he would do it?” I press. “Actually take credit?”
Another pause. “That depends. Does he know you didn’t record your songs?”
“Yes. And he knows I never posted anything online.” My voice cracks. “God, why did I tell him? I didn’t think it mattered. I thought he was just being nice!”
“It shouldn’t have mattered,” Brandon says softly. “But he might follow through, especially if the scout won’t take him.”
“She won’t. Hilary wanted to sign us as a duo, apparently. And I don’t want that.”
“I see. In that case, I’m afraid he’ll probably try whatever he thinks he can get away with.”
My pulse kicks hard. “Oh God.” I grip the phone tighter, a cold dread sliding down my spine. Those songs are pieces of me—hours and days and pieces of my soul. To have them taken from me would wreck me. “If he really tries—if he actually—Brandon, I don’t—”
The words collapse, tripping over each other. Panic sharpens everything: the wind, the cold, the black sky overhead.
“Lily-Anne, listen to me.”
His calm words slow my spiral. I drag in a breath, shaky and thin.
“You won’t face this alone. If he pushes this, we’ll deal with it. Together.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me.
“Okay,” I whisper.