Falling Away (14 page)

I wriggle away, pretending to search my handbag for something. My phone, my wallet ... anything. “One drink, okay? And just as friends, right?”

He regards me with an expression difficult to define. “Sure, friend. One drink.”

Compared to last time the pub is a wasteland. A couple of weathered locals have convened in a corner. They eye us off over schooners of beer when we push through the door.

Riley buys me a drink while I wait. And I’m relieved to be off my throbbing feet. I watch him, wondering why he wants to be here. Riley could have any girl he wants. He strolls to the table with a contagious smile, his dark hair dropping across his forehead.

“Sammy.” He places a beer on the table.

“Thanks.”

He slides onto a bar stool. “So what did George want today?”

“To give me more hours. More shifts.”

He arches a brow. “And what did you say? Can you take on any more? We
are
struggling with the load.”

“I know we are. But I said that I couldn’t. He can hire someone new.”

Riley nods seriously, as if deep in thought. “That wouldn’t have gone down too well.”

I cringe, remembering how annoyed George seemed. “It didn’t.”

I realise I don’t know anything about the guy sitting here. I’ve worked with him for two months, and I know nothing. “So, tell me about you.” Corny starter, I know.

He looks at me, surprised. “What do you want to know?”

I lift a shoulder. “Oh, I don’t know. Where you live, who you live with, your family? That kind of thing.”

“O-kay...” he says. “I live in Shoal Bay on my own, in an apartment I bought when I was twenty-one.”

I’m shocked. “What? You own your own place?”

He laughs. “Surprised?”

“Yes, very.” I say. “And impressed.”

He raises both eyebrows, tilting his head to one side. “Well, I did my apprenticeship when I was quite young, so I’d been working a while by then.”

I look at him, realising I’d never thought about his age. “How old are you now?”

“Twenty-five.”

I nod. “But still, buying a place at that age is pretty young.”

He hesitates. “I had some help. From my parents, you know?”

“And your family? Where are they?”

“Newcastle. I have a younger brother who moved to Sydney last year, and a sister studying at university.”

“What’s she doing?”

“Medicine.”

Gee, Riley’s full of surprises.

“And now it’s your turn,” he says with a glint in his eye. “Tell me about you.”

I glance over the scenic marina at night. “There’s not much to tell, really. I have a brother in Sydney, and I live with my parents. In Tea Gardens on the river. Boring, huh? Although I don’t mind the quiet. It’s what I know.”

He leans forward onto his elbows. “Why do you do that?” he demands like he’s annoyed.

“Do what?”

He glares across the table. “Put yourself down. There’s nothing wrong with living in a small town. It’s not boring, it’s beautiful. You’ve got to give yourself more credit.”

I suppose he’s right. “I guess so.”

“You seem unsatisfied. Unsettled.”

God, when did Riley become my counsellor? And when did he get so insightful? I’m feeling confronted and challenged all at the same time.

“I suppose I am.”

“But why?” he persists.

“Because life doesn’t seem to have any direction for me at the moment.”

“Direction for
you
? You’ve got to find direction for
it
,” he says. “You’re the one in control, you know. It’s got to be
your
path.
Your
choice.”

I consider his words, and he’s right.

His expression smooths and he flashes me a grin. For someone who seems like all he does is party, he’s pretty together. And he talks as if he knows this stuff. Like he’s been there before.

A short while later we finish the beers and it’s time to go. Thankfully he’s true to his word.

“How about I walk you to the wharf?” he suggests.

I grab my bag and we head outside. He lays an arm casually across my shoulders but this time it feels friendly. I don’t shrug it away. The ferry’s waiting at the wharf, whipping the glowing water like egg-whites in the dark.

“Thanks for the drink, Riley.”

He leans down to kiss me on the cheek. “So that was better, right? Better than last time?”

I look at him and smile, even though unease is running through my veins.
So this is Riley making up for it? Great ...

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Day three, and still no message from Jack. Is he trying to send me out of my mind? Or else maybe he just doesn’t care. And what was it that Riley said? That
I
have to find direction for life? That
I
need to be in charge of my destiny? It was something like that, anyway. So maybe I should simply put aside my tightly held pride and just text Jack ...

I pull out my phone and look at the screen. Empty. Glaringly empty.

My moroseness is interrupted by heavy thumping at the front door. Flipping my phone closed I pad to open it, running my hands through my hair.

When I open it and see him it’s like sunshine beams straight through my heart. He’s wearing an old t-shirt and shorts with bare tanned feet, standing in the softness of pale morning light.

My heart squeezes at the sight of him, a scuttle of nerves racing through me. “Jack...” I say, unable to stop the smile spreading. God, he looks
so
good.

He pulls me into him. “Hey,” I hear him say. With my head buried in his chest I don’t ever want to surface. Perhaps I could just stay here forever, because he’s kind of like heaven.

And it’s funny. Not even two minutes ago I was fretting out of my mind, and suddenly he’s here, looking gorgeous and
very
happy to see me.

He draws back to look at me. “Thought about texting, but I wanted to see you. Hope you don’t mind.”

My smile grows even wider. “Mind? As if I mind. I was just about to text you.”

He leans down and plants a kiss on my mouth. Not toffee this time. Coffee. Double chocolate mocha-kisses. “So,” he says, his arms wrapped firmly round my waist. “I’ve got the day off. How about you?”

A big burst of happiness brims. “I have most of the day off. I’m doing the dinner shift, so I start at five thirty.”

“How about a spot of fishing, then?” he asks with a cheeky grin. “Why don’t we do something? I thought fishing, but if you’ve got a better idea?” He murmurs this softly into my ear.

I giggle like a school girl. I do have a better idea, but it’s nine in the morning and I desperately need a coffee. “How about we get a coffee first, then go fishing?”

“Awesome. Get whatever you need and I’ll see you at the car.” He jumps the steps to the lawn and plonks down onto the grass, waiting.

***

Jack’s eyes are like the sea. Sometimes green with flecks of gold, other times hazel like a burnished beach. Today they’re as deep as a rolling ocean. And when he looks at me ...

I gulp a sip of coffee down, fixing my eyes determinedly on the water. I’m scared to look. Scared I won’t be able to look away once I’m trapped in his eyes. And I like him
that
much. So much my heart twists each time I see him. Every time I’m with him. And it’s just because he’s Jack. It’s as simple and straight forward as that.

The bay at Yacaaba glistens with splintered light. Up this end the bull sharks breed, so I’m hoping there’ll be fish. The sea-green clarity is an illusory paradise. A girl had her arm taken here last year, so I’m hesitant to even dunk in a hot big toe. Plus, Jack doesn’t swim.

“You okay?” he asks.

I look over and smile. “Yeah,” I say, cranky only with my nerves for getting the better of me. Here in the plain light of day, without the false assurance of darkness and alcohol.

He reaches for my hand, lacing rough fingers through mine. Parts of his hands are coarse and weathered, parts smooth. I edge closer, feeling warmth from his body as it’s pressed next to mine.

He rubs a thumb across my palm, circling it like the eagles wheeling overhead. Out of the blue he says, “So what time do you finish?”

“Finish what?” I ask stupidly.

He laughs, giving a shake of his head. “Work. What time do you finish work?”

“Tonight? Oh, um, ten-thirty. Depends a little on how busy we get though. And the extent of the clean-up.”

He considers this. “So how about I come and pick you up?”

“What, in the ferry?”

“No, in my boat.”

I raise my eyes to his. “I would love that.” The thought of being alone with him, on his boat ...

“Great,” he says, his voice soft.

His gaze softens and he leans over to kiss me. Once, twice on the mouth. As soft as feathers. Just that is enough to make me all swoony and light-headed.
Get a grip, Sam
. He pulls back and looks intensely into my eyes, and my instinct’s to close them against his attentive gaze. It’s like he sees everything about me. Into me, delving into my soul. He pulls me in closer, and painful desire washes through me. My eyelids flutter open and he’s surveying me, right up close, so I can’t escape, even if I wanted to. Running a finger down my cheek, he places his hand at my nape, tangling it in my hair. He pulls me in. Nearer to him. I’m adrift, floating inside, and when his lips meet mine I feel the strength of him; the solid shelter of his chest. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I need him with a commanding surge. Because
truly?
Right now I’m gone.

***

Work drags even though it’s busy. Glancing incessantly at my watch, I wait for the time to tick over, faster if possible. The last dinner group lingers, ordering coffees and extra desserts late into the evening. At a quarter past ten George hands them the bill, a kindly reminder we’re closing. And we still have to clean.

Eventually they leave and I’m done. I check my face in the mirror and wash the grease from my brow. I slide on lip-gloss and smooth out my hair, brushing it neatly over my shoulders.

Riley and George are chatting earnestly when I leave. Giving them a brusque wave, I scarper outside.

The night is warm, even for March. I head downhill, following the line of empty shops lit only by window displays within. The dinner group is dawdling ahead, laughing and swaying drunkenly across the road. A human chain of swaying inebriation, and they’re louder than before, if that’s possible. I hang back, not wishing to draw attention.

The wharf is lit by bright white lights, glowing under the stars. There are several jetties, the largest for the ferries and dolphin cruises. Jack’s tethered his boat at the far end, and he leans against a light pole with his hands sunk deep into his pockets. I honestly don’t know how the guy can look so good.

When I draw closer he moves. Pushes off the pole with his foot to greet me on the Corso. He pulls me into him, murmuring hi into my hair. God, he smells unbelievable. Like sea-salt is trapped in his pores.

“Hi.” I pull back to see his face. “Thanks for picking me up.” He kisses me lightly, his lips grazing mine with the softest of touch. A shiver steals through me.

“Are you cold?” He’s wearing a black t-shirt pulled taut across his broad chest and frayed denim jeans. His tanned feet are still bare. “I’ve got a jumper.”

He drags me along the pier by the hand, stopping once we reach his boat.

“Work okay?” he asks as he climbs in first, reaching for my hand to help me in.

We lock gazes. “Yeah, it was fine.”

I glance around and his boat is nice. It’s a small cruiser, with a cabin and comfy leather seats. I didn’t expect it to be so nice. A breeze is blowing across the bay and he hands me a cream cable-knit sweater – not what I was expecting, but totally warm.

“Thanks,” I say, dragging it over my head. It reaches to my thighs and he laughs, the sound washing over me like vibrant music.

“You look snug.” He wraps his arms around me and kisses me, harder this time. He untangles himself and pulls a set of keys from his jeans.

I settle into the passenger seat while he starts the engine. Leaning back into the seat, he adjusts the throttle. The motor’s a deep throaty grumble, agitating the water behind us when we leave. I see him concentrating, serious, like when he skippers the ferry, and it’s kind of cute. Actually, it’s
really
cute. When he’s negotiated the wharf and we’re out in the bay he relaxes, softening his gaze and glancing across. He gives me one of his grins, at which I can’t help but smile.

The sky is a brilliant flicker of stars and sea-gulls follow, swooping and circling above. He reaches for my arm, settling his hand on mine. His palm is so warm, and he gives my hand a gentle squeeze. I hold it tight, along with the moment, wishing for tonight to be lost in infinity. A night without end, right now, would be perfection. I look at him and wonder. Why he does what he does, and if he wants more. Maybe he doesn’t, because what he has, after what he lost, is just enough.

“So when we get back, what do you want to do?” He flicks the hair from his face in the breeze, looking for the first time a little uncertain.

I squeeze his hand, looking over at him. I’m trapped in those eyes because he’s all intense, looking at me instead of the bay. It’s dark out here, more intimate, the glowing luminescence of Hawks Nest reaching closer by the minute.

“I don’t feel like going home.” Maybe my face says it all. At home there’s Mum, wanting to know everything, control everything, and Dad ... is he sick? They won’t tell me, well, won’t tell me anything important. So it’s not a place I want to be right now.

He beams, hearing the answer he was hoping for.

***

It’s late when we dock. He cuts the engine and the silence is so loud I wish for the comfort of noise. Anything. The drone of crickets, the hum of music. His jetty is all weathered silver, and he secures the boat like a best friend. The jetty reaches right to his room, a tiny boatshed with big old windows meeting the river. He grabs my hand and I hear the soft thud of bare feet on boards, towing me behind him, leading me. My heart skips, starting up again with an edgy pulsating drumming through my chest.