“Whatever,” he grumbled, cupping his nose.
I then got the hell out of there.
* * *
Stumbling through the door of my workshop, my head was throbbing like a bitch. Fucking Leigh.Although I was angry with him for screwing Vicky, I could never hate him. We’d been friends for as long as I could remember, but that didn’t mean I felt like forgiving the prick anytime soon. I also couldn’t blame him entirely — Vicky had been the instigator.
In all honesty, Vicky’s and my relationship had been on the rocks long before the two of them screwed around, so it was only a matter of time before we were to go our separate ways. But despite of our pending split, that didn’t excuse the fucking cheating. It also didn’t excuse betrayal.
Vicky hadn’t always been a vindictive snake. Before she joined the band and started experimenting with weed and ice, she was a real sweetheart: beautiful, intelligent, caring and a little shy. Then something changed. Something that had her turning to drugs. I’m not sure what. I’ve tried putting my finger on it, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure it out. And to be frank, I really couldn’t give a shit anymore. She chose her bed, and now she had to lie in it.
Throwing the keys on the desk in my office, I proceeded to walk to the fridge, opening the freezer door and grabbing the ice tray. I kicked off my boots and flopped on the couch, holding the tray over my eye. Goddamn women. Are they really worth it? Worth all this? I sighed, knowing that if my mum could hear my questioning thoughts, she wouldn’t hesitate to give me an earful. Mum was an advocate of chivalry, hence my business name: Knight Repairs. From a very young age, she’d read me bedtime stories, the majority of them being medieval tales of kings, queens and knights. She was forever crafting swords, shields and armour out of everyday household items and encouraging Meg and me to role-play, as kids often do.
My favourite medieval tales were about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, although Mum was never a fan of Sir Lancelot. She’d always maintained that he broke the code of chivalry when he practised medieval courtly love and pursued Queen Guinevere. Mum was a strong believer in respecting the honour of women, a code of chivalry she tried instilling in me. Another moral code was to protect the weak and defenceless.
Speaking of the weak and defenceless, I desperately wanted to protect Stella —needed to protect her. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to also having a sense of pride. Okay, so maybe pride wasn’t a knightly virtue, but I was only human, and more importantly, a man.
A man whose ego had been hurt.
A man who had been knocked off his horse.
E L E V E N
Don’t cook ... unless you can
Opening your eyes the morning after a mammoth cry session is always an extremely uncomfortable task. And I have no doubt that if my eyelids had the ability to emit sound during this process, they’d be screaming at me to press them shut again. Last night, after leaving Lawson by the river and slowly making my way home, I’d cried myself to sleep. Seeing him shattered and at a loss as to what he should do had broken my heart. After all, I was the one who’d begged him to go further ... begged him to make me feel good. And boy, had he made me feel good. He’d made me feel something I’d never felt before. It was hard to explain, but when I came apart on him, the immense explosion of varying emotions was like nothing I’d ever experienced.
Pleasure had coursed through my body by his hand and, as a result, guilt had hit me with full force soon after. My first instinct had been to turn those feelings into anger, lashing out at him for no good reason. I knew it was cruel to direct my insecurities and confusion at him, but in that moment I hadn’t known what else to do. I’d been scared and feared what he made me feel ... what I was afraid to feel ... what I shouldn’t feel.
Deep down, I wondered if I should make an appointment to see a psychologist. In my line of work as a nurse, I had experienced firsthand what compartmentalisation could do to a person. I wasn’t living in denial of my past though. I knew what had happened, lived what happened — every single fibre of my being was tormented daily by what happened. So no, I wasn’t disputing what I’d endured and suffered. I was instead choosing to take leave from the constant reminder by simply ignoring it. Did that indicate I should seek out a shrink? Probably. But like most things, it was easier said than done.
Getting out of bed, I opened the curtains only to instantly close them again. Holy crap, that is bright.I squinted and groaned, then considered crawling back into bed. Sheltered within pale lemon-coloured walls, I could hide away for the day and pretend to be sick, therefore not have to face the world and those who were in it, those who persistently tried to unwrap my protective layers — layers that I’d unwrap when I was good and ready.
Groaning, I flicked through my wardrobe, which basically consisted of three dresses, a cardigan, a skirt, some tops, a pair of jeans, and a limited supply of underwear. Now that I’d decided to stay in Pittstown, I would definitely have to take a trip to Shepparton and buy some more outfits — not to mention shoes — having deliberately left behind the majority of what I owned in Melbourne. I didn’t want it anymore. I didn’t want the constant reminder of who I used to be.
Selecting the dress I’d worn the night Lawson and I had tequila shots, I had to push aside those memories as well, which only added to my need for more clothing ... or, alternatively, remaining in bed all day. But even if staying in my room were a possibility, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let Todd down after pleading with him to let me stay. My stepbrother hadn’t hesitated when granting my request to remain in Pittstown, together with offering me a job. So the absolute last thing I wanted to do was disrespect him and throw his generosity back in his face. Suck it up, princess ... Princess, oh god.
Saying that word in my head beckoned more tears to well, prompting my eyelids to once again plead for closure. The thought of facing Lawson was unbearable. I didn’t want to once again witness the sad, disappointed or angry expression he would surely have, but ... I just couldn’t give him what he wanted. I didn’t know how. I’d tried, and quite clearly, I’d failed.
Closing my eyes, I focussed solely on my breathing, practicing a mild meditation technique that I used to suggest to my patients. It was also my saving grace when things were sometimes too much to bear. Continuing this process until an unknown amount of time had lapsed, I reopened my eyes and found a renewed sense of courage, which allowed me to forge ahead and have a shower, get myself dressed and make my way out into the kitchen.
As I walked down the hallway, I could smell and hear bacon and eggs cooking. I was very hungry, having not bothered with dinner after arriving home the previous night.
“Are you going to wake her?” Meg asked, her voice just audible from my position in the hallway.
“Should I? She sounded terrible when I called her last night. Perhaps I should just let her sleep.” The uncertainty in Todd’s voice was unmistakable.
Rounding the corner, I took a breath and prepared myself to come face to face with Lawson. “No need, I’m awake,” I said meekly, yawning and quickly scanning the room only to find Lawson absent. Phew. He’s left already.
Meg smiled from her position at the stove, but then tilted her head in a show of concern. “You feeling all right? You don’t look so good.”
“Ah ... yeah, I’m fine. I suffer hay fever,” I lied, sniffing for effect, “and I’ve run out of antihistamines.”
“Oh, you poor thing. You could get some from the local GP, or I can grab a packet for you in Shepparton after I finish work today.”
I slid onto a breakfast-bar stool. “That would be terrific, thank you,” I said gratefully, feeling awful that she was now going out of her way to get me medication I didn’t need.
She walked to the other side of the bench I was sitting at and placed the frying pan she was holding on top of the wooden chopping board. Meg then leaned forward and grabbed some toast that had popped up from the toaster. “Would you like some bacon and eggs?”<
br />
“Sure, thanks. It smells wonderful.”
“Everything she cooks is wonderful.” Todd stepped behind Meg and wrapped his arms around her waist as she buttered the toast.
She laughed mildly and turned her head to give him a quick peck on the lips. “You have to say that, or you don’t eat. Apparently I’m the only one around here who knows what a kitchen is for.”
Feeling terrible that I’d lied to Meg about my pretend hay fever, and also feeling a little useless because I hadn’t really done anything during the couple of weeks I’d been here — except for some basic cleaning — I came up with an idea. “I can cook! Well, I can make something that’s edible at least. Why don’t I cook dinner tonight?”
Meg and Todd shrugged and then smiled. “Sure!” they said in unison.
“Okay, excellent!” I smiled genuinely, now filled with a sense of purpose — as silly as that sounded — and began thinking of the different things I could make. “Is there anything you guys or Lawson can’t eat, or perhaps don’t like?”
“Nah, we’re all pretty easy,” Meg explained, wriggling out of Todd’s embrace in order to open the fridge and take out the orange juice. She poured some into a glass and passed it across the bench to me. “Although I’ll have to check if Lawson is coming home tonight. He may stay out like he did last night.”
Hearing that Lawson hadn’t come home sent the butterflies in my stomach crashing into each other.
“Babe, you said you saw him at the pub. Did he mention anything about where he was going and for how long?” Meg asked.
Todd kissed her on the cheek and stole the second glass of juice she’d poured. He then briefly flicked his gaze to me before turning around and walking to the sink. “As far as I know he slept at the workshop. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind to come home.”
Meg put down the butter knife and turned in Todd’s direction. “Why?”
“He got into a fight with Leigh.”
“What?” Meg and I exclaimed simultaneously.
My heart picked up a beat. “Is he all right?”
“He’s fine,” Todd sighed, turning back around and leaning up against the bench. “At least he was when he left the pub. He’ll have a nice shiner though.”
Meg closed her eyes and massaged her temple with her finger. “Bloody hell! What happened?”
“Leigh pushed him too far and he snapped. It wasn’t his fault, baby.” Todd reached forward and pulled Meg’s hand away from her head before giving me an uncertain look that told me there was more to it. It also told me that I was part of the reason Lawson had snapped. Oh no! It’s my fault. And what does Todd know about me ... about Lawson and me?
Turning around, Meg began dishing up the bacon and eggs. “I could just slap that slutty bitch,” she mumbled angrily, aggressively slopping my egg onto a piece of half-buttered toast. “I don’t know what he ever saw in her.” She pushed a plate in my direction.
“Thanks,” I replied quietly, rearranging my massacred breakfast. My mind was running rampant with thoughts of what could’ve happened at the pub. Obviously, it had concerned Vicky. Had they talked things over after I’d rejected him? Or worse, reconciled and Leigh had tried to stop it? And where had he stayed the night? Was it really at the workshop? Or had he ended up at Vicky’s?
Now feeling a little ill at the thought of possibly being responsible for coaxing Lawson back into Vicky’s tattooed arms and destroying any chance of us ever having anything, I pushed through my now-vanished appetite and finished my breakfast. Today was sure to be a long and miserable one.
* * *
During a somewhat silent and awkward drive with Todd to the pub, I was now more than ever convinced that what had transpired the night before with Lawson had something to do with me. Todd was quiet, which was unusual for him, but he was also avoiding eye contact and displaying minuscule signs of frustration with the tapping of his fingers on the steering wheel.
“What did he tell you?” I asked, turning toward him and coming right out with it.
He glanced in my direction for the smallest of seconds before focussing on the road again. “Who?”
“Lawson. What did he tell you?”
“About what?” he asked, clearly trying to evade the obvious.
Huffing, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Quit it! I know what you are doing. Did he tell you about me and him ... about my husband?” Angry tears pricked my eyes at the thought of Lawson betraying my trust. I knew it! You can’t trust anyone, Stella.
“Your what?” Todd shouted, shooting me an astonished, wide-eyed look. “You have a husband?”
Shit! I was wrong. Clearly, he hadn’t told him
Closing my eyes due to my own idiocy, I let out a breath in defeat. “Had. Don’t anymore. He’s dead,” I said flatly, my voice devoid of any emotion.
Todd immediately pulled the car to the side of the road, the tyres skidding as they tried to come to grips with the change of road surface as we stopped. “What the hell, Stella? I know we had a bad patch, but fuck! You want to tell me what’s going on?”
I leaned forward and placed my face in my hands. “There’s nothing to tell. I was married and now I’m not. He’s dead, and it’s for the best.”
“Jesus Christ! When did this happen?” He unclipped his seatbelt and leaned over, rubbing my shoulder.
“Todd, really, I’m fine. It happened just over a year and a half ago. His death was sudden and it was his fault. He deserved it. End of story,” I mumbled, keeping my head in my hands. The last thing I wanted was for him to see my eyes, to look into those glass gateways and read what was truly behind them.
“I ... I don’t know what to say. I’m ... I’m so sorry.”
Dropping my hands, I kept my gaze directed straight ahead. “Don’t be sorry. Please! It’s like I told Lawson, it’s not anyone’s fault but his. So don’t be sorry.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Yeah.” I smiled weakly and turned to face him, noticing that he’d placed his thumb and finger on the bridge of his nose, his eyes screwed shut. He looked upset ... and terribly concerned, and seeing him that way stirred my inner guilt. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Todd. But it’s okay. I’m okay. Just don’t bring it up again. I don’t want to talk about it or think about it. It’s done and dusted. It’s in my past.”
He opened his eyes but left his hand where it was. “You sure that’s —”
“I’m sure,” I interrupted, emphasising that my decision to deal the way I wanted to deal was the correct one.
He placed both of his hands back on the steering wheel and shook his head mildly. “Okay, I won’t mention it. But please know that you can tell me anything. Talk to me about anything.”
“I know, and I’m so grateful for that. You have no idea how thankful I am to have you in my life again.” I patted his leg lightly. “I just don’t need to dwell on it, okay?”
“Okay, Stel. It’s your call. But ...” The tone of his voice suddenly changed from benevolent to mildly menacing, “... you will talk to me about Lawson. What happened?”
My eyes filled with tears — a process they’d become quite accustomed to. “I hurt him. I treated him terribly and I pushed him away.”
“Why?” he asked quietly, his response now soft and supportive.
“Because I like him more than I should,” I admitted, releasing a sob. “And because I’m no good for him.”
“Who says you’re no good for him?”
“Me. I say it.”
“Well, I hate to admit it, but you aren’t a very good judge of your own character. You want to know why? Because in the short couple of weeks you’ve been here, I’ve seen a change in Lawson. You bring something out in him that no one else has. And I’ve known him for a long time.”
I shifted in my seat, wanting — but at the same time, not wanting — to believe what he was saying. “What are you talking about?”
“He’s happy when you’re around. Genuinely happy. An
d it’s clear as day that he has feelings for you. Plus, he follows you around like a lost puppy.”
“He does not,” I dismissed.
Todd laughed. “Stella, you seem to forget that I have years of experience where you and boys are concerned. I know a Stella admirer when I see one.”
“I hate to burst your bubble, but Lawson is a man, not a boy. And yes, I am aware he has feelings for me, but they’re nothing serious.”
“Suit yourself. Think what you like. I know for a fact that they are,” he said with disdain, turning the ignition and continuing our journey.
Narrowing my eyes, I queried his statement. “What do you mean, you know for a fact?”
“Let’s just say that what happened last night at the pub was partly because of you.”
I knew it!
Placing my elbow on the window ledge and resting my head in my hand, I sighed stubbornly. “How? I wasn’t even there.”
“That’s probably a good thing. Leigh said something along the lines about wanting to hook up with you and Lawson lost it. Truth be told, if he hadn’t, I would’ve.”
I went to say something, but closed my mouth instead. I really didn’t know what to say to that, and I really didn’t know what it meant. Or more accurately, I didn’t want to believe it.
* * *
During the course of the day, I’d finally been introduced to Sharon, or Shaz, as she had insisted I call her. Prior to meeting her, Todd had warned me that she was loud, proud, lewd and crude, but also that she was one of the best people he knew. She was the part-time bartender, waitress, security guard, cook, cleaner and organiser. Basically, she was the feisty and lovable all-rounder.
Without knowing for certain, I’d say Shaz was approximately fifty years old. She wore short, peroxide-blonde hair and the brightest lipstick I had ever seen. Oh, and she was also a chain smoker, which had left her with a raspy voice that only a chain smoker could have.
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