Chapter Thirteen Dane
For the first time in years, I’m keeping a secret from Cash.
I don’t remember the last time I held anything back between us – there’s never been any reason to. Cash isn’t the type to judge and there’s very little that genuinely embarrasses me.
And yet.
‘You coming in?’ Cash asks, one hand on the door handle. I’m dropping him back home after a long workday and inviting me up for a drink or some dinner – or even just to annoy Bailey for a bit – comes to him as easily as breathing. I take him up on it most times, but not today.
‘Can’t,’ I say, making a conscious effort to keep my voice steady. ‘Got plans tonight.’
Cash throws me an intrigued look. ‘Are you seeing someone?’
‘I have other friends, you know,’ I say, pretending to be offended. ‘You and Bailey aren’t my entire social circle.’
It’s not a lie. I do have other friends. But I’m not going to see any of them tonight.
Cash laughs. ‘All right, man. Have fun. I’ll catch you later.
’ He hops out of the van and I watch as he disappears into the home he shares with my sister.
A little twinge of guilt gnaws at me as I drive away.
I haven’t lied; just withheld important information.
Important information like… I’m currently on my way to see Eliott.
The thought brings a smile to my face, even though it absolutely shouldn’t. This isn’t a date. Eliott’s made that very, very clear. But I’m excited to see her again, if only to prove that I can be just friends.
I don’t know who I’m trying to prove it to, though. Her or me?
It doesn’t take me long to make the drive over to Eliott’s grandmother’s house, and it hits me that we’ve been orbiting each other for probably quite a while.
Always just out of reach, without even knowing.
I wonder if things would’ve been different if we’d met in some other kind of way.
If our first meeting hadn’t been tainted by our awkward bedroom encounter.
Maybe we would’ve been friends first.
Real friends.
Not whatever we’ve got going on right now.
An elderly woman opens the door for me. I can see shadows of Eliott in her. They have the same eyes and the way she surveys me, brows furrowed, eyes narrowed in vague suspicion, is so distinctly Eliott-ish, I can’t help but smile.
‘Name?’ the woman asks, her voice sharp and wary.
‘Dane,’ I tell her. ‘Your granddaughter – Eliott? She asked me to come and check out your patio.’ I pause and then, for some reason, decide to add, ‘We’re friends.’
Eliott’s grandmother doesn’t look any less suspicious, but she does give me a quick nod before she disappears back into the house. I hear the muffled sound of her shouting Eliott’s name and then, a few seconds later, Eliott appears.
Her hair is pulled up in a bun away from her face and her arms are wet and covered in rapidly popping soapy suds. ‘Sorry,’ she pants.
I try very hard not to think about the last time I heard Eliott out of breath. About just how her breathy little pants sounded. About how I’d very much like to hear it again.
‘Was doing the dishes and lost track of time.’ She wipes her soapy hands on her thighs and gives me a wide grin, like she’s genuinely happy to see me. ‘Thanks for coming, by the way.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ I say as I step into the house. It’s warm and inviting and I immediately get the feeling that this is very much a home.
Rows and rows of family photos line the walls in the hallway.
I can’t help but stop and stare at the photos as Eliott leads me down the hall.
Eliott jumps out in almost all of them. There’s a row of school photos, documenting her growth from primary school all the way up to her university graduation.
There’s one in particular that catches my eye. She can’t be older than twelve in it, and she’s chubby-cheeked, wearing braces and awkwardly grimacing at the camera.
Eliott spots me looking at it and rolls her eyes. ‘Don’t laugh.’
‘I wasn’t laughing,’ I say innocently. Truthfully, too.
She hums, clearly not believing me. ‘Just remember, not all of us were born ridiculously good-looking.’
‘Straight out of the womb,’ I grin. ‘That’s what they tell me.’
She laughs and I’m once again reminded that her laugh is a sound I never want to forget. ‘That explains the ego, I guess.’
Another photo catches my attention. She’s a kid in it, with her hair pulled into two thick bunches, and she’s sitting on the lap of an older man. They’re both beaming widely and Eliott’s got a camera in her hands.
‘Your first camera?’ I ask, nodding at the photo.
Eliott glances at the photo and her expression changes. It’s a subtle difference. She’s still smiling, but it’s tinged with sadness.
‘That’s Grandad.’ She clears her throat.
‘He died a few years back.’ She takes a step closer to me, her arm brushing against mine.
‘But yeah, that was my first camera. I think I was eight? Maybe nine? He loved taking photos.’ She laughs quietly and gestures to the walls surrounding us. ‘You can probably tell.’
‘Is that how you got started?’ I ask. ‘Taking photos with him?’
‘Mm,’ she hums, eyes focused on the photo in front of us. ‘He taught me the basics and kind of just let me go from there. We had different styles, but he always liked seeing what caught my eye and how I interpreted it.’
‘How’d you land on weddings?’
She shrugs, like she’s barely given it any thought.
‘I like capturing the quiet moments. There’s all the wedding beats you have to hit as a photographer.
First look. First dance. The moment they say “ I do ”.
But I like getting the softer moments too.
The little looks and glances. The soft touches.
The smiles when they think no one’s looking. ’
I think back on the photos Eliott sent through from Cash and Bailey’s engagement party. Looking back on it, they were filled with quiet moments. I wonder what the quiet moments in Eliott’s life look like. And if I’d be able to slot into them.
Eliott clears her throat again. ‘Come on. Nan’s patience will only last so long.’
I follow her into a bright and hectic kitchen. There are pots and pans occupying every spare inch of counter space, and a window overlooking the sink shows off a garden that’s clearly seen better days.
Eliott’s grandmother sits at the small, cluttered kitchen table and narrows her eyes as we walk into the space. ‘I was just starting to think you two had got lost.’
Eliott rolls her eyes, clearly used to her grandmother’s dramatics, and wrenches open the garden door. The lawn is long and overrun with weeds, there’s a slanted tree at the back that looks like it’s just one strong gust of wind away from doing some serious damage, and the patio…
I let out a low whistle as I follow Eliott out into the garden. Her grandmother stays seated at the table, and I don’t blame her. The first tile I step on immediately collapses under my weight and sends me stumbling forwards.
Eliott shoots me an apologetic wince. ‘You see the problem? Nan nearly breaks her ankle every time she comes out here.’
‘How did it get so bad?’ I ask, crouching down to inspect the crumbling tile beneath me.
Eliott sighs and squats down beside me. ‘It’s a long story.’
I catch her eye. ‘I’ve got time.’
She quirks a brow and, when I don’t relent, she sighs again. ‘My brother was supposed to sort this out for Nan months ago. But he never got round to it.’
I wait for a beat or two for her to continue. When she doesn’t, I frown. ‘If that’s what you call a long story, I’m dying to know what you think a short story is.’
She laughs, but it’s not the right laugh – the one that makes me smile right back. This one sounds forced. ‘Right,’ she says simply before pushing herself back up. She gestures to the space around us and cocks her head to the side. ‘What do you think? Is it salvageable?’
‘I’ve definitely seen worse,’ I tell her. ‘Not much worse, but I can work with this.’
Eliott heaves a sigh of relief. ‘All right, why don’t you let me—’
Her grandmother pokes her out of the garden door and waves a piece of paper in front of her face. ‘Eliott, come and help me with this letter from the council. I don’t know what they’re asking me for.’
‘Nan, I’m just—’
Her grandmother disappears back inside the house without so much as a second glance. Eliott scowls at the empty space and then shakes her head, her expression clearing in an instant. ‘I’ll be right back.’
‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘I can get started out here.’
She nods and then hurries after her grandmother, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like ‘ one thing at a time, Goddamn it ’.
There’s not much I can actually do tonight, but I make headway by unrolling my tape measure, my fingers moving mechanically as I begin to measure the dimensions of the space.
By the time Eliott returns, an apologetic half-smile on her face, I’ve already figured out how many tiles I’ll need to order to replace the broken ones.
‘What’s the damage, then?’ Eliott asks.
I hand her a piece of paper with a quote written on it. She stares at it for a long moment and then shakes her head and tries to shove the quote into my chest.
‘Don’t be stupid, Dane.’
I bite back a grin. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’d expected this kind of reaction from her. ‘What? You’ve never heard of mates’ rates?’
‘Obviously I have,’ Eliott mutters, her brows furrowing as she stares again at the quote I’ve written. ‘I just… I don’t see how this will be enough to cover even the cost of materials. It’s way too low.’
I shrug. ‘Like I said, mates’ rates .’
‘But we’re not—’
I raise an unimpressed brow. ‘Just take the discount, Eliott. It’s not a big deal.’
She purses her lips and glares at me, though there’s no heat behind it. ‘I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you. Especially, you know… since we’ve got history ?’
‘Do we?’ I ask lightly, feigning ignorance. ‘I guess I forgot.’
That gets a laugh out of her. She shifts slightly, pressing her back against the nearby wall, and looks up at me through hooded eyes. ‘Didn’t realise I was so forgettable.’
‘Ah.’ I lean in just a little. I’m still not in her personal space, but it’s enough to trigger a shift between us. I can feel it and, from the way her eyes widen slightly, I’m guessing she can feel it too. ‘You’re the furthest thing from forgettable.’
She swallows. ‘Really?’
It would take absolutely nothing for me to lean in and kiss her right now.
Friends.
The word echoes in my mind.
I clench my jaw and take a deliberate step backwards. ‘Truthfully?’ I ask. Our eyes lock. A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips, and she nods. ‘I don’t think I could forget you even if I tried.’
She swallows again and this time, her tongue darts out reflexively to run against her lips. ‘Likewise.’
The energy between us shifts again.
Before I can act on it though, Eliott clears her throat and deliberately turns away. ‘You’re sure about this quote?’ she says, voice too high, too stilted. ‘Because I’m happy to pay your standard fee and—’
‘I’m sure.’
I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure about anything.
‘Well.’ She turns to face me again, but doesn’t quite meet my eye.
Under the dim light coming from the fluttering garden lamp beside us, it’s difficult to make out if her cheeks look more flushed than usual or if I’m imagining it.
‘Thank you, Dane. You’re a—’ She pauses for a second and chuckles, laughing at some unspoken joke that I’m not privy to. ‘You’re a lifesaver.’
And you know what?
I think I could get used to hearing that.