5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Laynie
Switching off the engine to my clapped out little car, I rest my forehead on the steering wheel for a moment, shutting my eyes as the evening sun streams through the windscreen. Fingers tapping on the warm leather, a groan escapes my throat when I hear my phone vibrating on the passenger seat.
Turning my head, I see my parents’ smiling faces light up the screen.
Mum with her shoulder length blonde hair, slightly wavy and windblown from her narrow face flecked with freckles and lines.
Thin glossy lips, an upturned nose, and cloud blue irises squinting a fraction against the sunlight.
Dad’s face is pressed against her head to fit in the frame.
He’s taller and built for his age, with balding dark hair, bottle green eyes, a thinning beard, and a faint scar above his lip.
Tattoos cover his arms, matching the few Mum has collected over the years.
They’re wild and artsy, and everything about their appearance screams that.
Letting out a soft groan, I pick up my phone and answer before I miss the call. I let out an overly excited, “Hello,” that doesn’t match how violently my nerves are rattling through me.
“Hi, baby. How are you holding up?” Mum’s cheerful voice comes through the speaker.
Levi and Violet Adler have always had this carefree, wherever-the-wind-blows-them kind of personality that I adapted to when I was younger, mainly because I didn’t know any better.
Mum’s always happy, even when I screw up or break promises.
When I was a kid, I thought it was awesome, but the older I get, the more I wish my parents would be more concerned about me.
I’ve learnt that what I need is structure and plans, which is ironic because this baby was anything but.
“I’m good. How’s the Sunshine Coast?” I say, trying to match her enthusiasm, but I feel as flat as a popped tyre.
She lets out a small chuckle. “It’s gorgeous.
Your dad is sitting in the sun with his beer and lemon, listening to the radio.
We found a great spot near the beach, and the caravan staying next to us is a younger couple who don’t own a home.
They only have a caravan they live out of. How cool is that?”
My smile drops as I rub my forehead, withholding a sigh. Of course she would think it’s cool.
“Amazing,” I let out dryly.
“We think so too,” she continues, clearly not picking up on my bluntness. “Your dad and I are thinking of staying here for another week before we continue north. We want to keep going while the weather is perfect. I wish you could have come with us, Laynie.”
“Me too, Mum, but I have the bakery to run. It’s not going to stay open on its own, and I think the town would throw a fit if I closed. How would Mrs Spencer get her daily sweet treats that she hides from her husband?”
Mum scoffs lightly. “Macie could have handled it for you. She’s quite capable.”
“For an entire year?”
She’s quiet for a moment. “You’re right. Plus, you without your baking is like a field with no grass. It just doesn’t work.”
“Great analogy…” I drawl, before hearing a shuffling in the background. Shutting my eyes, I continue listening when Mum tells Dad to take the phone from her.
“How are you going, kiddo?” His deep voice floats through.
“I’m fine, Dad. I’m glad you’re enjoying your holiday.”
“It really is fantastic. We wish you could have joined us. The caravan has a table that turns into a bed.”
My head shakes as I imagine the grin inserted on his scruffy, wrinkled face. He was elated when he found that out, like it was the major selling point or something...
“I know, you showed me when you bought it off Facebook.”
“Ah…” he lets out slowly. “That’s right.”
Letting out a sigh, I ask the one question I’m afraid of him answering, but I’ll also hate myself if I don’t. “So, when do you think you’ll be back?”
“Do you miss us, pumpkin pie?”
I nod against my phone and let out a soft, “Yes.”
“We miss you too. Every single day.”
That didn’t answer my question.
“And we spoke with Dave this morning. He said that Sadie is staying with you. Something about you needing some company.”
“Yeah.” My tone picks up a bit. “She’s here with me. I think she’s considering staying in Ashwood for a while.”
Dad gives a gentle hum. “That’ll be great. The more the merrier, we always say.”
“She seems excited to be here. I’m not sure how many dancing positions will be available in the area though.”
“But Sadie is one of the best. I’m sure she will find something. And it’ll be good for you to have her there since your Mum and I won’t be in town for a while still.”
A while still.
My heart sinks into my stomach. It’s not like I should be shocked.
They planned to be travelling for an entire twelve months, and it’s only been five so far.
A part of me wants to share the news with them right now and have them come home, but I can’t do that.
Not after the years taken to plan this trip and save for the caravan.
And definitely not after what happened with Sadie’s mum last year.
I’d be a terrible daughter if I did that.
“You’ll have to keep me updated on where you’re heading,” I say, changing the subject to keep my heart from splintering some more.
“Of course we will, pumpkin. I’ll send through some more photos soon.”
The corners of my mouth curl. “I’d love that.”
“Of course. And I hope that Golden Hour is doing well. Any more luck with the social media strategy thingy?”
That makes me snort a laugh. “Yeah, the social media strategy thingy seems to be working. Macie and I have some good ideas up our sleeves, so now we just have to find the time to film and upload and all that super fun stuff.”
Dad snickers loudly. “That’s great to hear. You’re already doing amazing work, Laynie girl. Your mother and I are so proud of you.”
That makes my chest flicker with happiness.
Sniffing softly, my head lifts to see Grayson standing at the front of my driveway, leaning casually against the letterbox in my rearview mirror.
It makes me flinch, not expecting him to be there waiting for me to get out of my car.
Swivelling my head, I want to be sure he’s actually out there and not just a figment of my imagination.
My eyes skim from his longer hair blowing in the cool breeze to his cut shoulders, the loose flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows, showing off his forearm tattoo that he got when he was eighteen on a dare, and his slightly dirty jeans and boots, before my gaze travels back to his face to reveal a small smirk.
I swallow before turning back to my phone where my parents are asking if the connection has dropped. “I’m still here, but I actually need to run. Grayson is here—”
“Oh, Grayson. How is he going?” Mum asks. She’s always liked him like the son she never had.
“He’s good,” I let out quickly, grabbing my bag from the floor. “But he’s at my house right now. Can I call you back later?”
Mum lets out a giggle, and I swallow at the sound. She really does sound so content being away, and the idea of ruining their getaway with my stupid mistake makes me feel so incredibly guilty and selfish.
“Your dad and I might be busy—”
“Okay, no need to elaborate. I’ll just call you tomorrow.
” I cringe again. As fun as my parents are, I also wish they weren’t so open about their sex life.
No child needs to hear those details. Especially not when your friends are over for a birthday and your parents think this is the best time to start talking about their midnight adventures in the garden.
Safe to say, I understand why I really only have Grayson and Macie now.
They burst into laughter before saying goodbye and hanging up.
Sighing, I get out of the car to find Grayson already walking towards me, a paper bag full of groceries in his arms. I’m curious as to what he’s brought with him.
“I thought I could have beaten you for a second.”
My mouth curls into a small smile as he takes my bag from my hands, slinging it easily over his buff shoulder as I lock my crappy little buzz box. Betsie is definitely on her last leg—or tyre, I should say...
“I only work two streets away,” I point out, avoiding his eyes as we walk to the front door.
My parent’s house is a little unique single-storey home.
When I was in primary school, I had a three-year-long obsession with the colour cyan.
I just thought it was the prettiest pop of colour, and I tried wearing it in every outfit, no matter how bad it looked.
Mum decided one weekend to start painting the wooden cladding cyan, and, well, it’s never changed since.
The garden is simple but maintained, with flower beds, a small pond, and a lawn that might need mowing soon. The windows are wide and tall, the door is painted navy blue, the eaves are an off-white shade, and everything is finished off with gold trimmings.
You can’t really miss our house when driving through town. It sticks out like an artist’s painted thumb, because Mum is an artist, and this is possibly one of her favourite projects to date.
Stopping on the wooden porch to fish my keys out of my bag, I feel his eyes on me like a beam of light.
It’s heated and intense, burning the side of my face.
Or that could just be my face blushing? I’m not quite sure, but either way, Grayson’s stare always does something to me.
If I’m not drowning in the light blue depths, then I’m flushing from the intensity.
“Yeah, but I could drive here with my eyes closed,” he teases softly as the metal of my keys rattle in my hand.
Face lifting, our gazes lock for a long moment, and I feel the stammering of my heart start up again like a backfiring car.
It happens every time Grayson looks me in the eye.
As if his blue depths see through to my gooey, chaotic insides, and my bones become more pliable.
Blinking away, I snicker gently. “Maybe we should bet on that, then?”
His deep, rumbling laugh washes over me, and my blood heats at the sound. It’s rough but gentle.
I wish he didn’t have this effect on me. I wish he was just my friend and nothing more, like when we were younger, but I fear he will always be that something special to me, even if he doesn’t see me the same way. Which is why I need to shove those feelings aside.
“You want to bet on the chance of me having an accident?”
My lashes flare. “No!” I shout quickly, only to see his smirk grow mischievously. I push his chest lightly—his strong, defined chest that could grate cheese—and he doesn’t budge a millimetre. “I’m not that morbid.”
My insides twirl deliciously as Grayson leans closer.
The smell of his cologne, woodsy and manly, tickles my nose.
I have to force myself not to inhale too quickly.
He’s close, like he always is. He’s so comfortable being in my personal space, and I never want that to change.
In fact, I’d prefer it if he stayed this close to me, but I know that’ll never happen.
My throat works, pulse erratically beating, as Grayson leans to rest his hand on the front door I’m backed up against. It’s cold on my back, pressing into my butt and shoulder blades, but I can’t move.
Grayson’s face is barely a foot away, staring down at me, and I feel sweat beads forming on my face.
Our proximity makes the hair on my arms stand.
I don’t even know if I’m breathing properly.
I think I am, but every time I inhale, all I can smell is Grayson, and it’s stirring—
Without a noise, the door swings open behind me, and my body falls with it. I give a small yelp as a hand reaches out, grabbing a hold of my wrist. The other secures itself on my waist to steady me as Grayson lets out a throaty chuckle. “You good there, Biscuit?”
That name always makes my heart flutter like a ridiculous butterfly.
Letting out a shaky breath, my fingers dig into his forearms. I clear my throat, trying to not look as bothered as I feel inside. “Thank you, Blondie.”
And his dimples appear, melting my heart once more.