Her Aussie Holiday

by Stefanie London

  He blinked. “Am I missing something? I thought it was a good thing to be kind to others.”

  “Not when it always comes at a sacrifice to yourself.” She bit down on her lip. “You act like you have to earn your place, but the fact is, people love you here. You don’t need to earn anything.”

  “That doesn’t have anything to do with me asking you to stay—you’re deflecting.”

  She sighed. “My point is…we’re still caterpillars. We still have so much work to do, so much growth we have to experience before we’re ready to be butterflies together. We’re not…we’re not ready.”

  Trent glanced at the ground, to the little wrapped box that contained the gold pendant, and frowned.

  “The way you see yourself, you’ll never be a butterfly,” Trent said. “You think you’re so broken and so unlovable that you’ve become that way. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

  “I don’t think that.” She folded her arms across her chest.

  “Why else would you go back to the parents who’ve done nothing but belittle you? You don’t think you deserve any better.” He clenched and unclenched his hands. This was not going the way he’d hoped. “Don’t you think it’s possible for two people to grow together? To change together? If you had to be perfect to be worthy of love, then nobody would ever be loved.”

  “You forgave your family for lying to you for more than a decade, yet you can’t understand why I keep hoping that I can turn things around with mine? That’s hypocritical.”

  “He wants to crush your dreams, Cora. For crying out loud, he basically told you to give up!”

  The second the words left Trent’s mouth, he wanted to snatch them back. Shit. He hadn’t planned to broach the topic of the last letter from Cora’s father in such an emotional fashion.

  “You read my emails. Wow.” She took a step backward, shaking her head.

  “I didn’t go looking. Your laptop was on the table and it was open…” Okay, and maybe he’d nudged the track pad so her screen would light up. But he hadn’t done anything more than that…except sending his father Cora’s file without her permission. Crap. Okay, so maybe he’d majorly overstepped. But it all came from a good place. “He should never have told you to quit.”

  “That’s none of your business.” Her cheeks were bright pink now, her eyes blazing like twin blue flames.

  “If it’s hurting you, then I want to make it my business. He has no right to bring you down like that. Why can’t you see how toxic they are?” It was like beating his head against a brick wall. It made absolutely no sense to Trent that she would leave a place where she could be loved and included to go back to a place that by all her accounts was cold and unwelcoming. Back to people who were happy to cut her down with their words. “Are you so desperate for a family that you’ll go back to them simply because they’re related to you?”

  Her eyes widened as if he’d slapped her.

  “I’m sorry, that came out harsher than I meant.” He held up a hand, but something told him the damage had already been done.

  “It’s not your place to tell me what my family should be like,” she said quietly. It was as if the flames had been extinguished with his carelessness, and for some reason the quiet felt so much worse than her anger. “You of all people should know that family isn’t always perfect.”

  At least my parents love me.

  He bit back the words because, even though they were true, they felt spiteful. And he didn’t want to treat Cora like that—he’d hoped that by showing her what it might be like to be part of a cohesive unit, she’d want to stay. That she’d see how much better her life could be.

  But he’d clearly underestimated the pull her parents had on her.

  “Bloody hell, Cora. I care about you.” Now he was laying it all out on the line, opening himself up further when she’d given him no reason to. No encouragement.

  If she walked away now, it wouldn’t be because he’d kept his feelings a secret—and that meant he’d live without regrets. Because, for the first time ever, he was showing someone all his cards. Leaving nothing unsaid.

  For too long, he’d kept secrets like rocks in his pockets, not telling people about his true identity for fear they’d reject him. And maybe Cora had a point; he did put other people’s needs first. A lot. He could say it was the “Walters Way,” as his dad liked to espouse, helping those around them without pause.

  But if he was being truly honest with himself, that was the easy cover. The fact was, he did feel the need to earn his place. To buy people’s love with good deeds, instead of being himself and trusting that his siblings would love him anyway.

  It sat uncomfortably in his chest, as though she’d revealed a part of him he’d wanted to ignore.

  “You’re not supposed to care about me,” she said, shaking her head.

  “I know,” he said. “But I do.”

  …

  It was like a bad dream and the best dream she’d ever had rolled into one. Cora couldn’t think straight, because her head was so stuffed full of battling emotions that there wasn’t space for logic. For reason.

  Trent cared about her.

  And the hard truth of it was, she cared about him, too. A heck of a lot.

  More than she’d ever cared about Alex, she realized on reflection. Because Alex had never known her the way Trent did, he’d never encouraged her the way Trent had. He’d never seen her tiptoeing around her dreams and shoved her in the right direction no matter how terrifying and thrilling it was.

  But she couldn’t stay here. Because that would mean sacrificing her other dream—the one she’d had since she was a girl, staring at her bedroom door and willing one of her parents to come and save her battered little heart. If she left her life in Manhattan behind to move to Australia, then her father would forget about her. He barely made time for her now, despite them working in the same office and living a block from each other. If she left the country…

  Well, he might forget that she existed altogether.

  “You’re killing me, Trent.” She swung her gaze over the beautiful picnic he’d put together—from the ripe, sweetly scented strawberries to the bottle of wine and the little paper bag from the bakery she’d grown to love during her time here. “Why can’t we appreciate this for what it was and walk away with some good memories?”

  “Because a good memory of you isn’t enough. I don’t want to remember you, like it was some happy blip in my life.” He was so sincere, it radiated out of his face, his goodness gripping her heart and squeezing. “I want us to keep making memories.”

  This wasn’t how her trip was supposed to end. “I never came here looking for forever. It was supposed to be a distraction from my real life.”

  “And this wasn’t real?”

  “This was a vacation fantasy, where I was going to lick my wounds in a beautiful place and get my head back on straight so I could go home and fix everything.”

  “Fix everything?” His nostrils flared, and something dark and sharp cut across his face. “You’re planning to go back to your ex?”

  Had she wanted that reconciliation? Maybe for a moment as she’d packed her bags back in Manhattan. Maybe a bit during the flight over when tears burned her eyes. But after that? Not once.

  Alex wasn’t the guy for her.

  Trent had shown her that. The way she’d felt in his arms, waking up next to him, walking around his block of land and listening to his plans… She’d felt true passion for the first time ever. Alex was a good person, but he hadn’t made Cora’s heart soar the way Trent did. He hadn’t believed in her the way Trent did.

  “No, I’m not. It’s over, completely.” She sucked in a breath, her chest protesting the movement as though her heart was physically bruised. “But my life is still in New York.”

  “What life?” He threw up his hands. “That’s the par
t I’m having trouble understanding. Everything you’ve said about that place has painted an ugly picture, and yet it seems to have this hold on you.”

  Maybe it did. Maybe it was because it felt like leaving Manhattan for good would mean admitting failure, whereas if she kept trying…

  But for how long?

  Cora’s heart felt weighed down. Heavy. She’d failed at everything she’d ever tried to achieve—her music performance career was a bust, she’d never been able to hold down a relationship, she wasn’t speaking to her mother, her manuscript was a disaster, her father didn’t think she had potential to succeed as an author…

  You can keep trying.

  Being the caterpillar meant working hard for change, and she still had such a long way to go. Her fingertip drifted over the top of her thigh, to where her tattoo was hidden behind the length of her cotton dress.

  “Am I…am I seeing something that isn’t here?” Trent asked.

  For a second she thought about lying. It would be easier to say she felt nothing for him. To say that leaving wasn’t going to shatter her heart into a million pieces. To push down her emotions and protect herself with falsities.

  But what kind of person would that make her?

  “I care about you, too, Trent. A lot.” She blinked back the prickly feeling in her eyes, determined to be honest but strong. “These last few weeks have been incredible.”

  “But?”

  “I can’t stay.” Her voice trembled. “I know you don’t understand the relationship I have with my family. It’s messy and imperfect and…yes, it’s difficult. For someone who had such loving parents, of course you would find my situation strange. But all my life I wanted to make my dad proud, and even though it never seems to turn out right…I can’t give up now.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets. She could see he was closing himself off, shutters going up and locks engaging and walls fortifying around him. “I understand.”

  “You don’t, really. But that’s okay.” She attempted a watery smile, but her lips refused to turn up. Inside, it felt like her heart was slowly being chipped away, each word cleaving off another piece until there was nothing left but an unrecognizable lump. “It’s something I have to do for myself.”

  Something that looked a whole lot like respect flickered in his eyes. “So this is it.”

  “It’s okay if you don’t want me in the house tonight,” she said, biting down on her lip. “Maybe I could crash at Maddy’s place. I can pack up and—”

  “No, this was supposed to be your holiday. Not mine.” He reached out and touched the side of her face, and for a second Cora wanted to snatch all her words back and promise him everything. “I’ll head out tonight and give you some space to pack. I can take you to the airport the day after tomorrow.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said softly.

  “I know. I want to.” He dropped his hand. “Someone needs to see you off.”

  That was Trent in a nutshell. Even after she’d rejected him, pushed him away…he was still here, helping her. Being a good person. It was a good thing she wasn’t staying, because Trent deserved someone who would sacrifice everything for him.

  “You’re going to make someone very happy one day,” she said.

  But Trent didn’t reply. He simply nodded and walked toward the house, leaving the beautiful picnic spread behind him as though it now meant nothing. A sinking sensation settled in the pit of Cora’s stomach. Saying goodbye would be brutal, but it was for the best.

  This was never meant to be anything permanent, and all the wishing in the world wasn’t going to change that.

  She knelt down onto the picnic blanket and began to pack up the food. It seemed like such a waste to leave it there, though she was sure Joe would have enjoyed the feast. She put lids on the dips and closed the strawberry container. As she was cleaning up, she came across a slim black box. It was beautifully flocked, and the velvet almost melted under her touch.

  Cora’s gaze drifted to the house. Should she open it? Or would it only make things harder in two days when she would leave Australia for good?

  She couldn’t find it in herself to peek. Because her control was balancing on a knife’s edge as it was, and her grip on her childhood dream felt looser and more precarious than ever. If she looked and her heart exploded…

  No, she couldn’t stay. The hard part was over; now it was time to go home and think about how she could put her life back together.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Two weeks later…

  Trent had been wandering around like a sleep-deprived zombie ever since Cora had left. He’d put on a happy face at her going-away party and forced himself not to drag her out of the check-in line at the airport. Ever since, he’d been exhausted. Not to mention that he was couch surfing again now that Liv was home.

  Despite her teasing him about squatting in her house, she’d offered for Trent to stay a while longer, but everywhere he looked he saw Cora—in the shower, in the spare bedroom, at the dining room table, on the quaint little chairs under the veranda out back. He sketched her into any room with vivid details so realistic, he could almost smell her perfume in the air.

  It was a cruel kind of torture, to see a person everywhere while knowing you’d never actually see them again.

  So he’d taken up residence at Skye’s place for the next little while, sleeping in her spare room. Her little girl was over the moon, since “Uncle Trent” was the fun uncle, and he was more than happy to listen to her babble for hours about whatever her latest obsession was—yesterday it was asteroids and space. Today, unicorn battles.

  However, sleeping at other people’s houses couldn’t be a permanent setup. Not only did he not expect Skye to give him space forever, but now the couch surfing thing felt a whole lot less appealing than it had in the past. Instead of making him feel free and spontaneous, it had the opposite effect—caging him to a life that was without roots and direction. Without purpose.

  Trent shook the thoughts from his head as he walked up the driveway to his parents’ house. Nick’s Merc was parked there, followed by Liv’s little hatchback. Jace’s car—the same one he’d had since forever—was on the street. It looked like Adam and Soraya hadn’t arrived yet.

  Trent sucked in a lungful of air to try and pep himself up. But it was useless; he was miserable without Cora. Every day felt like it had a great big gaping hole in it. He missed her sunny smile, her deep and insightful thoughts; he missed the way she read to him in that husky, sultry voice. He missed seeing her eyes light up when she told him about a change she’d made to her manuscript, or when she’d read a sentence that took her breath away.

  He jabbed at the doorbell as though the small button had personally offended him. All his actions were like that lately—jerky, filled with bristling frustration.

  The door swung open, and Trent’s dad stood there, a beaming smile on his face. He was dressed in a white T-shirt and beige cargo pants with white runners—typical dad attire.

  Frank embraced him in a warm hug, because his family was never shy in doling out affection. “Son! Come on in.”

  “Hi, Dad. Happy anniversary.”

  “Thank you. It means so much that you kids want to celebrate it with us.” He smiled, and it caused his bushy mustache to bob. Sound floated through from the back of the house, Liv’s laughter like a sparkling bell and Nick’s groan at something she’d said.

  “I was hoping I could talk to you before we go out back,” Frank said, scrubbing a hand over his jaw.

  Trent raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes, everything is fine. It’s about that book you sent me.”

  Cora’s book. Trent’s heart clenched on her behalf…not that it would matter what anyone in his family thought now. It’s not like he was going to contact her to pass on the feedback. “Okay…”


  “It was…marvelous.”

  In spite of knowing that it meant nothing, Trent’s heart soared for Cora. He knew she was talented, and his dad was a fussy reader. He also wasn’t the kind of guy to blow smoke up someone’s ass if he didn’t truly mean it.

  “Her writing is very crisp, and the way she wove that relationship into the story…” Trent’s father shook his head. “Beautiful.”

  “I’m really glad you liked it. Cora would be thrilled.”

  There was a strange pause in the conversation, the kind of pregnant pause that Trent immediately knew meant there was something more going on than what his dad was saying.

  “So…” The older man bobbed his head. “I did something.”

  Oh shit. “What?”

  “Remember Mark, the guy I went to university with who moved to Sydney about ten years ago?”

  Trent scanned his memory. He had a vague recollection of a guy with a wide, charming smile and thinning hair.

  “Anyway,” his father continued. “He’s an editor now in Sydney.”

  Trent’s blood ran colder than a glacier. Oh no. If Cora lost her shit because he’d read her father’s email, then how would she feel knowing that he’d passed her book on to his dad, who’d then passed it on to an editor?

  “Dad!”

  He offered a sheepish shrug. “The book was so good, and Mark and I bumped into each other at that literary fair in Melbourne a while ago, so we’ve been talking more often and…well, I sent it to him.”

  Trent scrubbed a hand over his face. Cora was going to kill him. It was a total violation of her privacy, of her trust. He couldn’t believe he’d ever done something like that, but he’d been so fired up about her dickhead father’s email and…

  You know that’s no excuse.

  Maybe Trent and his dad could keep this little secret between them. Cora didn’t have to know, did she? Ugh, of course he was going to have to tell her.

  “I can’t believe you did that,” he said, though whether it was directed at his father or himself, he wasn’t totally sure.