“I don’t know, Michael. Whatever happened, she doesn’t wanna talk, and I don’t want to pry.”
“I gave him a chance to explain,” I bark out, as I fix my apron around my waist, moving in beside her. Gabs jerks backwards, breaking her hand contact with Mick.
“Sorry, love, I didn’t mean to … aw, shit.” He strokes his goatie, and then rubs at the back of his neck.
“Are you after coffee?” I ask, my tone gruff. “’Cause the machine will take a while to warm up.”
“No, I’ll be off. Sorry,” he apologises and then shrugs at Gabs before walking out of the café, his head hanging low.
I walk up to the front door and turn the latch. “You shouldn’t be in here alone with someone, Gabs,” I chastise.
“Pfft. I know Mick. He’s fine, love.”
I turn the coffee machine on and clang the metal milk jugs on the counter, louder with each bang. “Yeah, well I knew Ryan, so go figure.”
“Okay, lady,” she says, hands on hips. “Are you gonna carry on like this all day, or are we having a conversation?”
I shrug. I don’t want to talk.
“Don’t shut me out, Willow, because as much as I love you, I’m not spending the next twelve hours treading on eggshells. I’ve had enough of putting up with your grumpy arse, lately.”
I close my eyes and breathe in deep. Will I ever be ready to talk?
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she whispers and pulls me into a warm hug. For a good minute she holds me, slowly making circles on my back with her flattened palm. Her touch is gentle, motherly, which of course spikes the tears that flow down my face.
“You know what fixes everything?” she says, holding me at arm’s length.
I wipe my nose on the back of my hand. “What?”
“Mac,” she states with an affirmative nod.
“Mac?”
“Oh honey, as in the world’s best lippie? Nothing like a fresh colour to make you feel like a new woman. MAC fixes everything.”
Is she going to claim that it has heart healing properties?
I move over to a table and sit down, slumping back into the chair. Gabs sits beside me and with a weary smile, she hands me a tissue.
“Should I bake something extra sweet?” she offers.
“No.” I don’t feel like anything sugary. A bag of salt and vinegar chips though, I would grab with both hands and crunch through in record time.
I stare deeply into the eyes of my dear friend. She’s worthy of an explanation. It’s about time I talked. We’re both such damaged souls, but this woman always picks me up when I’m down. She makes coming to work something to look forward to, and I adore her and her beautiful Sienna.
“I was engaged once,” I announce.
“You were?” She takes my left hand in hers and runs her finger over the indent where my ring used to be. “What happened?”
I let out a long breath.
Here we go.
“I caught him out on a lie. And then another, and another. Each one chipped away at the image of the man I was in love with; the picture of the man, the perfect husband material he wanted me to see. When I put all the pieces together, it was beyond devastating. I was so naïve. He had sheltered me from his other life, and the darkness surrounding it. It completely crushed me.”
“What other life?”
How much can I say?
He’s the mastermind, the conspirator of the biggest drug ring in Australia? That he had police officials in his pocket so they’d look the other way? That he had runners left, right and centre pushing drugs in his families’ nightclubs and pubs? I can’t tell her that. It’s too much.
I rub my hands over my eyes, and blow out a puff of air from my mouth. I have to ignore her question.
“I’ve never told you, or anyone here, but I had a younger brother, Tobias.”
“Had?”
A vision of my brother dressed up in dark jeans and a black collared shirt comes to mind. My heart wrenches at the memory of his infectious smile, his longish chocolate-brown hair swooped to the side, and the sparkle of innocence held in his baby blue eyes the night before he turned eighteen.
The last time I saw him alive.
A lone tear glides down my cheek, filled with regret, sadness—so many things. He had so much to offer this world, had so much love to give, and he never got the chance.
“He died of a drug overdose on his eighteenth birthday.”
“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.” The words get caught in her throat and her chest jerks as she draws in a husky breath. She closes her eyes, her blue mascara bleeding down her flushed cheeks.
“At his funeral, my fiancé held my hand. Held me when I wept, when he might as well have been the one to give Tobias the drugs himself.”
“Fuck,” she gasps. “He’s a dealer?”
I nod. “When I found out a year later what he was doing, I didn’t know what to do. I was lost. On one hand I wanted to confront him, but on the other I was terrified of what he would do. He was a stranger to me. How could I fall for someone who could do such things?”
“I guess sometimes we can’t help the ones we fall for.”
“Yeah. I guess not.”
“So what did you do?”
I waited. I watched. I gathered evidence.
“I couldn’t live with myself, knowing that someone else could lose a brother or someone they love, so I did something about it. Something that changed my life forever.”
I grind my teeth, and rub either side of my temples. I’ve probably overstepped the mark here. If I tell her I’m protected, I can go to jail myself.
Her eyes widen, and she leans in closer. “Did you kill him?” There’s no judgment in her eyes, only the expectation of an answer to what sounds like a simple question.
“No, but what I did do was sign my own death warrant. He said that one day they’ll find me and they’ll kill me. That’s why I moved here. For a fresh start. But I’m still afraid, Gabs. Some days, I’m scared of my own shadow.”
“Whatever it is you’ve done, I’m sure it’s not that bad?”
I wipe the tears from my face and stand up. “What I did, I did for the right reasons, but there are people who strongly disagree.”
Apart from the dealers, there are a few corrupt cops who wouldn’t mind a piece of me.
Gabs clutches at my hands and squeezes tight. “Well, I’m here for you, lady. Always. I love you to bits, and I’ll fight any fucker who tries to hurt you. I mean it.”
“Thanks. I don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t found you.”
“Can I ask you something? Seeing’s you’re talking?”
I nod.
“What happened with Ryan, honey? I just can’t understand what went so wrong.”
“Let’s just say I had a glimpse of my past.”
“Drugs?”
I nod again.
“Well, fuck me. Are you sure, honey? He just doesn’t seem the kind.”
“He won’t deny it. So I told him we were over.”
“I don’t believe it,” she says, and makes a tut noise with her tongue. “I usually get a pretty good read on people.”
“And you know what really gets my goat?”
“What?”
“He keeps watering my damn garden.”
Her reddish curls settle around her shoulder as she tilts her head. A lazy smirk tugs at her painted purple lips. “He does?”
“Yes. Every day it would seem.”
She bats her lashes and stares at me, a dreamy faraway look in her eyes. “Mick thinks you should give him a chance.”
It’s too late, because I’ve made up my mind.
“Yeah, well Mick hasn’t been where I’ve been.”
In a living hell.
CHAPTER THIRTY
WILLOW
I drag my sorry butt out of bed. Again. This past week has felt like Groundhog Day. Every day, I swear I’m carrying around the same hangover. My head is heavy; my stomach is off. I wish someone would tell me this gets easier, or tell me where I can buy a new heart.
This one’s about had it.
“Jesus, lady. Did you get yourself a new push-up bra?” Gabs announces as I enter through the back of the café.
“Well, good morning to you too, Gabs,” I mutter, as I dump my keys and bag.
“Morning, Willow. I’m just sayin’ those puppies are out there.”
I look down at my chest, pulling my top out at the neck. I suppose they do look a little bigger. I guess I’ll be getting my period soon.
She eyes me suspiciously. “Maybe you’re pregnant.”
Gulp.
My blood runs cold, the heat trickling from my face. “What did you say?”
She turns to face me, her brows knitted together. “That you could be pregnant. You don’t think?”
I shake my head.
No
. She’s wrong. There’s no way. I mean, I know we didn’t use anything that night of my birthday, but the other times Ryan was bare, he pulled out. Falling pregnant without medical intervention would be such a minute possibility. I mean, I’m not on the pill, but the fact I only have one working ovary, and I was told I might need help trying to fall pregnant … surely I’m not?
“When was your last period?” she probes.
“I … I don’t know.” Five or six weeks? It’s been irregular for years, and I’m too busy to keep a calendar of it. And the last couple of weeks, I’ve had enough to think about. “I’m sure I’m not though.”
She shrugs one shoulder. “Okay, but if shark week doesn’t come soon, I’d be getting a stick to pee on if I was you.”
“I might get a kit on the way home. Just to make sure.”
If I am, how on earth will I handle it? How would I support myself, run the café and bring up a child alone? Would Ryan want anything to do with me, or more to the point, would I want my child to be around a father that uses drugs?
It’s stupid. I’m not giving these thoughts any more air, because I’m just not pregnant. I’m definitely doing the test tonight.
“Good. I’ll be there to hold your hand, lady.”
“Ewww, while I’m peeing?”
“I love you honey, but not that much.”
“Thanks.”
“Whatever happens, you know I’m here, right?” she says, her voice soft and comforting. Her assurance touches my heart. At least I know that I have Gabs in my corner.
“Right.”
****
After a long day on my feet, there’s one more stop I have to make before I can collapse into bed.
I march into the chemist a few minutes before closing and grab a pack of three tests. I have to pinch myself as I do. I’m really going to do this?
Once home I race inside, and head straight to the bathroom. I read the instructions three times before I finally get the courage to pee.
I pee.
I wait.
Two lines.
I re-read the instructions.
Two lines = positive. I slump down on the closed toilet seat.
Oh my God
.
In a zombie-like daze, I walk into the kitchen and scull two glasses of water. I take a hot shower before taking the second test out of the packet.
My hand shakes so much this time around that I end up peeing all over my fingers, but enough liquid streams onto the kit for it to work.
I wait.
Two lines.
Whoa
.
I repeat the process. Shower. Pee. Wait.
Third time will be the charm, surely?
Two lines, yet again.
I want you knocked up and round-bellied in our kitchen.
That’s what he’d said.
Oh my God.
I grab my keys and in a flurry of tears, drive towards the beach, because in this moment, I don’t know what else to do.
****
RYAN
She nearly hits my car as her hatchback screams out of her driveway in reverse. I don’t even think she noticed me.
Stalking her.
I do a U-turn and follow her, keeping my distance without losing her.
She parks her car at the same beach we always go to, and plonks herself down on the sand in the same spot that we made love. On her birthday.
The one that no one is supposed to know about.
I watch her sit there, knees drawn up, her arms wrapped around her legs. Her body heaves as she cries her little heart out. In this moment, she is cloaked in fragility.
Enough.
I can’t take it anymore. It’s breaking my fucking heart. To hell with the consequences. She needs to know the truth.
Blood rushes to my face, and my heart pounds furiously in my ribcage as I stalk down the sand towards her.
“Willow,” I say, my voice thick with emotion.
She lifts her head, revealing her bloodshot eyes and tear-stained face. Her head falls backwards and her chin quivers.
“Not now, Ryan.
Please
. Not now.”
I kneel at her feet and place my hand on her upper arm. “What’s wrong?”
****
WILLOW
“I don’t wanna talk. I just want to be alone,” I tell him.
Alone with my baby.
“Please.”
Of all people to find me here …
I can’t see him now. It’s only making things worse. Just the simple touch of his hand and the softness of his words have me ready to fall into his arms.
The arms of a user.
That’s how weak I feel.
My heart-rate picks up. Haven’t I learnt anything at all?
“We need to talk, Willow,” he says, his jaw tight.
“Drugs are a deal-breaker for me. I won’t change my mind on that.”
No matter how much I love you.
“I don’t expect you to.”
Gah!
What’s that supposed to mean? I shake my head and wipe my eyes with the heels of my palms, the sting of tears exacerbating.
“And stop watering my plants,” I growl with a firm finger pointed right at his face.
A smile pulls at the side of his mouth, and that sweet dimple of his hits me right in the heart.
How dare he pull the dimple on me?
“Just takin’ care of our babies,” he drawls, all southern-like.
“Don’t,” I warn. Against every fibre of my being, I don’t shield my hands over my stomach. I’ve been sitting here, trying to come to terms with the idea of being a mother. But Ryan can’t know. I have to protect my baby against the evil in this world. Protect him from the very evil that killed his uncle.
Wait a minute … he?
“What is it you wanna tell me then?”