The Rebound

Chapter 1

Where are you?

I finish the last of my sandwich as I stare down at the text. My hands are so numb I can barely move my thumb across the screen.

Where am I? Where am I, Tyler?

Right back where I started from.

Or close to it anyway. And not to be dramatic, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to die here. Here on this freezing cold bench in this almost empty parking lot. I’m going to die wearing yesterday’s clothing with six percent battery left and one bar of signal.

I swipe the message away, my stiff fingers protesting the movement, and try calling Louise again. The time on my phone tells me it’s ten p.m. local time, which means I was supposed to be back hours ago, which means my sister is going to kill me.

I listen to it ring as I watch the remaining stragglers board the bus to Galway.

I landed in Dublin this afternoon, naively thinking once I did it would be relatively easy to get to where I needed to be.

But what should have been two to three hours on the road has turned into half a day trying to navigate the Irish public transport system.

Or rather the lack of it. And now after managing to make it all the way across the country, I have a feeling that if I’m not careful, I’m going to have to walk the rest of the night.

I get to my feet, brushing away crumbs as I look around.

In the tourist brochures, the west of Ireland is usually portrayed as a lush, windswept vista.

Full of rugged cliffs and green fields. They do not show places like this.

And for good reason. When I arrived, the small crossroads town had been full of people making their way home for the weekend.

Now it’s quiet, the surrounding businesses closed, leaving the streets eerily empty, and I’m left staring enviously as the final bus pulls away, leaving just me and a girl in a bright orange vest talking to another customer.

Louise doesn’t answer, so I hang up and drag my suitcase over to her, trying to make eye contact. I’m not used to being ignored, but she does a pretty good job of it, oblivious to my existence as she peers up at the man in front of her.

“Katie says we might finally win this year,” she tells him as I do a “please pay attention to me” smile.

“Without you?” he replies.

She giggles. She actually giggles.

I drop my luggage at my feet. I don’t have the energy for this.

“Excuse me,” I interrupt. “Could you—”

“Just a second.” She barely spares me a glance. “I’ll have to come back and support,” she says to him.

“You’ll probably just make them nervous.”

“ Me? ”

I roll my eyes at the delight in her voice and step between them, forcing the man to move back. “Sorry to butt in,” I say, making sure I don’t sound sorry at all. “Could you tell me when the bus to Clonard is coming?”

She looks as if I just pushed her. “Where?”

“Clonard. There was one due forty minutes ago but it didn’t show. I’ve been waiting for an hour.”

It takes so long for her to answer that I wonder if I’ve simply vanished into thin air.

“I think you might have missed it,” she says finally.

“Missed it?”

“By about eight years. It only runs on Wednesdays now.”

“On Wednesdays ?”

“Didn’t you check the website?”

“Yes!”

“The new website?”

She can’t be serious.

“I can call you a taxi,” she continues when I don’t respond.

A taxi. I’d laugh if I didn’t want to hit something.

The one credit card I have left still worked when I checked it at the airport, but I doubt the local taxi company will take it and there’s nowhere open to exchange money.

I can only imagine the look on Louise’s face when I show up at her door asking for cash. “How much will it cost?”

The girl shrugs.

“Well, can you go and check?”

Her lips part in indignation, but when it’s clear I’m not budging she scowls. “Sure,” she mutters, storming into her little hut as I check my phone again. Two percent battery. I’m doomed.

“Do you need a lift?”

I almost jump at the deep voice behind me. I’d forgotten the man was there.

“I’m fine.”

“There’s a match down in Hollybrook, so you’ll be waiting awhile,” he continues, ignoring me trying to ignore him. “They’ll hear that American accent and double the price.”

“I don’t have an accent. I’m from here.”

“Okay.” He sounds amused. “But I’m going that way now if you’re stuck.”

“I’m not stuck. I just need your girlfriend to do her job.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Whatever. But I’m still—”

Fine.

I don’t get the last word out; it dies on my lips along with my annoyance as soon as I turn around.

He’s older than I thought. Early thirties maybe? And handsome. Very handsome. His hair is cut short, almost shorn on his head with a face that’s blessed with, and let’s be real here, some outstanding genetic luck.

His eyes are green. I know his eyes are green because I’m staring into them as he stares into mine.

We look at each other in silence, neither of us saying anything, and I realize with supreme embarrassment that my mouth is hanging open. I shut it and stick out my hand.

“Abby,” I say. “I’m Abby.”

He doesn’t respond at first, an odd expression flickering across his face, and I instantly regret the handshake thing. Years in the corporate world have made me formal. But before I become too self-conscious, he thankfully returns it, his palm large and dry against mine.

“Cold hands,” he says.

“Oh, sorry.”

His grip slackens and I force myself to let go. “Bad circulation,” I babble. “But you know, warm heart and all that. Mam always said I’d make an excellent pastry chef.”

“A pastry chef?”

“Because you have to keep the dough cold.”

He blinks at me. “Right.”

Because you have to keep the dough cold . Jesus Christ, Abby.

“So you’re heading home?”

“Who said it’s home?” I hedge but he only smiles.

“There’s not a lot of other reasons to go to Clonard.”

He’s got a point. But before I can respond the girl stomps back out of the hut, pausing as she takes us in.

“It will be eighty-five euro,” she says, her attention flicking between us like she doesn’t know who to focus on. “But you’ll be waiting awhile. There’s a—”

“Match in Hollybrook,” I finish. “I heard.”

If looks could kill. “So?” she asks. “Do you want me to order one?”

I hesitate, looking back at the man. I’m not usually one to accept rides from strangers but…

He catches my eye. “Offer still stands,” he says.

The girl’s eyes narrow. “What offer?”

Thirty seconds later I follow him across the parking lot, feeling only a little smug as she stares furiously after us.

“I’m Luke, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

He glances back at me as if I said something funny but doesn’t say anything as he opens the trunk of a small red car.

“Do you live in Clonard?” I ask as he takes my case, fitting it in between a pair of muddy running shoes and an empty cardboard box.

“I sleep there. That’s about it.”

I don’t miss the way he keeps a respectful distance between us, as though careful not to crowd me. He offers me a choice of the front or the back seat, keeping the lights on when I slide in beside him.

It’s a nice car. Worn but clean and smelling strongly of coffee, though I can’t see any evidence of it.

I need to learn to drive. Dad gave me a few lessons as a teenager but neither of us had the temperament for it and he was terrified I was going to hit every wall I saw.

I toyed with the idea of getting my license in college, but there were always friends to take me where I needed to go and then I moved to cities with plenty of functional public transport systems and never had any need to.

Maybe I could get cheap lessons while I’m here.

Maybe I just found my teacher.

I glance at my mystery savior, now cast in shadow as he pulls out of the parking lot. He’s smiling to himself, a slight tilt of the lips that I find insanely attractive, and I wonder what someone like him is doing in the middle of nowhere.

“Been living in the States?” he asks. I look away before he can catch me staring.

“New York. I had a job over there.”

“Had?”

“Had.”

He takes the hint. “So you are coming home.”

“I’m visiting my sister for a few days.” Weeks. Months. Oh God. “She would have picked me up but her husband’s a nurse. He’s working late shifts this week and they only have one car. I thought I’d be fine getting the bus.”

“This is the problem. We haven’t had a decent bus route in years. The government want us to cut back on our emissions but won’t give us the proper resources to— What?” He breaks off, catching my look. “What did I say?”

“Nothing. Sorry. It’s just you sound exactly like her.”

“Your sister?” He frowns. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No.” Sometimes. “So were you at the match in Hollybrook?” I ask, eager to change the subject. “Is that why you’re driving around so late on a Friday night?”

“I’m coming back from Sligo.”

It doesn’t tell me much. Sligo town is a two-hour drive from Clonard and most of the village commutes there for work or to shop.

“Visiting your girlfriend?” I ask, super casually.

“No.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

He shakes his head.

“A boyfriend?”

“I was studying,” he says. “I’m doing a physiotherapy course there.”

“Good for you.” I immediately wince at the condescending tone in my voice. Thankfully he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Better late than never. What about you?”

“Oh, I’m single.”

“I meant your job,” he says with a small smile.

“I don’t have a job, remember?”

I meant it as a joke. It doesn’t come out like one.

“Well,” he continues after an awkward beat. “You know what they say. When one door closes another one opens.”

“I think I’m going to have to kick it down actually.”

“That bad?”

“I used to work for MacFarlane.”

His reaction is what I expected. Or one of two I expected anyway. It was going to be a look of surprise followed by either pity or anger. Thankfully it’s the former.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” I sigh. “Me too.”