Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I was leaving. That much I was sure of. Trevor could have the children’s home for all I cared.
I was willing to admit I’d been the victim of temporary insanity these past few weeks, and the stress of losing my job had affected me more than I’d realised.
I was pissed at Rick for encouraging me to come here.
But more than that, I was pissed at myself.
Business only. I thought back to Dax’s words and the cross he’d drawn on his chest.
What a load of crap.
And I’d fallen for it—hook, line and sinker. If he wanted to get laid, he should’ve just been honest about it instead of pulling all that perfect, considerate nonsense.
A loud “Ha!” burst from my throat as I parked outside the narrow courtyard that led to Steamy Sips.
The cobbled ground was empty of tables and chairs at this time of night.
I glanced around at the blank white walls.
I’d barely admitted it to myself, but I’d imagined barrels of fresh flowers out here.
Maybe a little vegetable stand out front.
A tiny dream of how to make an extra income for Breeze and me while playing in a pretty garden.
Temporary insanity indeed.
My phone vibrated.
DAX: I’m really sorry, Riley. I didn’t mean to upset you. Can we talk?
Technically, I’d been the one to kiss him.
I wasn’t under any illusion that my body and mind were in full consent the whole time.
Nor was I implying anything untoward had happened.
Not intentionally, anyway. It was the gentleness that got me.
I shivered, sadness creeping in from nowhere and settling in my chest.
I thought back to the horror on Dax’s face as I’d staggered away from him, his features coiled, his mouth opening and closing.
That was another reason I had to leave. I couldn’t let him see more of my brand of crazy.
I thought back to the last call with my ex, Jared after I’d vomited out an embarrassing storm of untrue things onto his perfect lap.
"Who are you?" he’d said. "You’ve always been cool as a breeze. That’s why I liked you. I think it’s best we leave it here and not try to do the long-distance thing."
I’d expected that answer. And I’d deserved it. But it still hit me like a punch in the vagina bone. I’d never shown him the real me, so of course he’d run a mile when he saw the wolf for what she was.
I would not do that again now. I couldn’t explain my response to Dax because I didn’t understand it myself.
The lights were off inside, and I was relieved that Breeze had taken Taco with her to her business budget night at Harry’s.
If anything could have stopped me leaving, it was that smiling ball of fur.
Packing took surprisingly little time, and I turned to look back at the single room, its duvet and sheets now washing in the machine.
Its drawers and wardrobe empty of any proof I’d ever been there.
I don’t know what it was about that thought that rolled through my chest so heavily that a sob caught in my throat.
I needed to get out of here.
I pulled my phone from my satchel and texted Rick.
ME: I’m coming home.
His reply was instant.
RICK: What? Why? What happened?
ME: Tell you when I see you.
That was all I could manage. I was grateful for the few hours’ drive it would take to get back. Maybe I’d have figured it out by then.
I thought about Breeze as I turned off the last of the lights upstairs and walked down to the café. The lump in my throat swelled. I couldn’t wait for her. She’d been the fastest friend I’d ever made—besides Taco. She didn’t need to feel the fallout from my unravelling too.
Instead, I opened the top drawer of the kitchen filing cabinet and pulled out the notepad and pen.
I’ve decided to go back to London. I couldn’t find what I was looking for here.
A tear rolled down my cheek. Was that true?
I’ll leave the house stuff to Trevor, which is what I should have done from the start. Thank you for all of your kindness. I’m genuinely grateful to have met you and Taco, and I’ll miss you both. Sorry I couldn’t say goodbye in person—it’s not really my thing.
Good luck with the inspection. I know you’re ready.
Riley.
P.S. Give Taco a hug from me.
I choked back the tears as I placed the note on the butcher’s block. Placing my key on the counter, I left out the front door, pushing the lock on the handle as it closed behind me. I turned on my heel and strode double time to my car, heart pounding.
Don’t look back.
The first hour passed without my realising. The only thing that jolted me back to awareness was the flashing light on my dashboard. My car was thirsty—and quickly running out of petrol.
Panic filled my chest as I stared at the $83 left in my account. That would cover an oil top-up, but I doubted it would stretch far enough to get me all the way back to London. I threw my head back against the driver’s seat.
I was tired of life feeling like a rollercoaster I couldn’t get off, although I was pretty sure it was me that kept getting on it. I just had no idea how to make it stop.
The lights of a twenty-four-hour café gleamed ahead, and I pulled in.
I needed a moment to figure out what to do next.
I grabbed my phone from the centre console and saw three messages.
The first two, from Breeze and Dax, I deleted without reading.
I didn't need to make this any harder than it needed to be.
RICK: What’s happening? I haven’t heard anything since you left.
I felt grateful for his quiet panic. Rick was one of the few people who saw all of me and still wanted me around. June came close, but something about her ability to do life in a way I couldn’t always left a sour taste in my mouth.
ME: Two hours out. Taking a break at a café. Might sleep so I’m not driving tired. If I’m not there tonight, don’t stress.
I wasn’t going to tell him about my money situation. If I did, he’d transfer funds before I could say no, and then I’d have to deal with the humiliation of being a charity case again on top of everything else.
RICK: Sweet. Jeffrey’s here, just FYI if you get here tonight. See you when I see you.
My eyelids felt like sandbags as the automatic doors of Taylor’s 24-Hour Café & Grill whooshed open. Maybe the forced stop was a blessing.
A server with chocolate brown hair and skin waved me to a booth and followed behind me with a menu. I knew exhaustion had seeped into my bones when the woman’s placement behind me as I walked didn't cause my chest to rage like it normally would.
“Just coffee,” I said, forcing my lips to smile although it didn't reach my eyes.
I shouldn't even be getting that, but I couldn't expect them to let me sit here for free.
She nodded, tucking her notepad into her apron, and walked back to the counter humming.
I was grateful for the tall backs of the booth seating enveloping me in my misery, and I leaned my head back considering my situation.
I was homeless, jobless and now I had even less money than when I started. I willed myself not to spiral at my constant and repeated failures.
Fucking Trevor. It felt better to blame him for this scenario.
There was one saving grace in this situation. I pulled the creased issue of Squirrel News from my satchel and laid it flat on the table, grateful to have one last piece of the town to take with me.
Not much news. I could see why the issue had been delayed. They’d stretched a story about a found wallet into a full-page feature, and I laughed at the way the editor, Harlow, had turned it into fiction. Long may your job last, clever writer.
My eyes drifted to the obituaries. Call me macabre, but I enjoyed reading the tributes. They felt like a way to say, your life mattered. That someone saw you.
I scanned the names until one age made me pause. Born a year before me. Thirty-six. You hadn’t even had a chance to live at thirty-six. I dreaded the idea of dying now, with so much left unaccomplished. Though I wasn’t convinced I’d feel like I’d achieved much more at eighty-five either.
“No,” I sucked in a breath reading the name.
Olivia Pratt.
“No,” I repeated, my body deflating like an old balloon.
There was no cause of death listed. No messages from loved ones. Just a brief note about a memorial at St Peter’s Church in two days’ time. I wanted to melt into the table.
Another lead gone. Not that it mattered anymore. If I needed one more sign to confirm I was right to leave Glades Bay, here it was.
Olivia was no longer a lead. I was back at square one.
I'd expected to feel relieved that my swift exit had been validated, but something else was trickling inside me. That damn guilt again.
Something that, when it came to Olivia, I felt at an alarming depth.
There was something else too. It snaked across my back and settled into my stomach like lead. Disappointment.
She was the girl trapped in my recurring nightmare because I never saved her. I always stayed quiet. And now I could never save her. I couldn’t even apologise. I hadn't realised that I’d needed to. Not only for her, but for me.
I felt the sting of having the option taken away from me, and heat burned through my body, taking me off guard. I should have done something.
I should have found her earlier.
If not for the house making me look for her, I should have looked for her anyway. I'd needed to see she was okay. Her cries had been echoing in my mind for decades, ignored. Just like they had been in the nights I’d really heard them.
She deserved someone to hear her, and I’d failed again.
Well, I wouldn't make that mistake now. Not a chance.
I twisted my head back towards the counter.
“Could I switch that to an extra-large, to go?” I called out.
The server dipped her head in acknowledgement, still humming as she reached under the counter.
I grabbed my phone and typed a message quickly to Rick.
ME: Change of plan. I’m going back. Explain later. Still love you.