“You’re thinking. What are you thinking?”
“Does Mum know all the details? I have a list running through my head.”
“It’s all sorted. Don’t stress.” He squeezed my shoulder.
My head wanted to loll forward on my neck. He’d sapped the tension right out of me. There was something about him. A resonance felt between two that almost merged us as one. I really was losing my shit.
Maybe it was because we both came from split families. His mother had remarried. My parents had both remarried. What about his dad? Where was he? Did he spend every second weekend with him?
“Do you see your dad much?”
He huffed and scratched his nose. “Rarely. When he’s in town and not too busy with his latest woman.”
Oh. Bummer.
We crossed the street, Adam, Bree, and Will safely crossing five metres in front.
“Doesn’t he live in Rocky?”
“He’s a FIFO worker. They fly him out to the oil rigs in the Timor Sea. He’s gone for three weeks and back for one.”
“That’s hard. Has he always done that?”
“No, he worked in Gladstone before. He stayed for his block of shifts and he’d come back for his days off. Just before Mum and Dad split, he drove there and back every shift. It was his way of trying to save the marriage. But it was wasted effort because he had other women in Gladstone the whole time.”
Fuck. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.” He laughed without humour. “Me too.”
“Why didn’t he just leave if he wasn’t happy?”
“He was happy. He wanted his cake and he wanted to eat someone else’s cake too.”
My brows scrunched together. “He didn’t think your mum would find out?”
“He thought she’d understand that a man has needs and a week was a long time to go without getting some. Stupid thing is, now he has to go without for three weeks at a time.”
“I think that may be what you call karma.”
“Mm.”
“Your mum is happy now though, right?” I shrugged. “She’s got you and Adam, and Mr Hooper.”
“Yeah, she’s good. Geoff treats her well. They dissect each other’s days, and learn and grow together.”
I gasped, a big grin breaking free as I lightly punched him on the arm. “You were listening.” Damn, that arm is rock solid.
“Did you think I wasn’t?”
I pushed some hair off my face. “I dunno. You’re quiet most of the time.”
“Why talk when there’s nothing to say?”
“Because silence is unbearable. Because communication is important. Because it drives your companion nuts if you deprive them of interaction.”
“There are more ways to communicate than with words.” He slowly reached out. The back of his hand brushed my forearm, stealing the breath from my lungs.
I lifted my eyes to his. We both stopped walking. He stared down through lowered lashes, his lips slowly curling up.
Oh, shit.
...
...
He’d blanked me with one touch. All my thought processes came to an abrupt halt and my senses took over. They bombarded me with feedback. His warmth, his smell, the tug and thrum between us. The trapeze act in my chest had fallen off their perches and were tumbling in a free-fall. I didn’t know if there was a net to catch them. I didn’t even care.
Ben took a step and I stumbled after him, picking my jaw off the ground. I checked to see where the boys were. They were nearly ten metres ahead now. We only had one more street until we reached Dad’s house. Why couldn’t he have bought a house farther away?
“You don’t agree?”
“Huh?”
Ben laughed, adjusting the weight of his backpack. “You’ve gone quiet.”
“You wiped my brain cells.”
“Just like that, huh?”
“Yeah, just like that. Don’t get a big head about it.”
He chuckled, tugging on the waistband of his shorts. “I’ll try not to.”
“Do you wish your parents had stayed together?”
“Nah. Now that I see how two people are supposed to love each other, I realise what Mum and Dad had wasn’t built to last.”
I searched his eyes, not knowing what I was looking for. Sadness? Acceptance? “Do you think you’ll ever find the real deal with someone?” Like me, for instance?
“Honestly, I dunno. I’m too young to be thinking about it anyway. And so are you. Don’t let Stew know that you’ve got boys on the mind.”
Okay, there was no net. My heart just slammed to the ground and turned to pulp. “What would he care?”
“He cares.”
Yeah, right.
I walked ahead of him, opening the squeaky metal gate before following the garden path to our standard brick-and-tile.
Every house in the street appeared almost the same. The development was built in the eighties when brown was all the rage. Will knocked on the door, but if Dad wasn’t home from work yet, nobody would be there. I had to wait until he arrived before I could leave. Anna didn’t finish until five. Mum wasn’t happy about the arrangement, but it meant I got to spend extra time with Will, so it was fine with me.
“He’s not home,” Will huffed.
“Great,” Bree mumbled, lacking enthusiasm in her tone.
I took one strap of my backpack off, ready to dig out my keys, when the door opened.
“Keep ya shirt on. I was on the dunny.” Dad peered at us, wiping his hands on his shorts. His work shorts.
My nose crinkled. Such a bogan. The remnants of his day clung to him in a cloud of toxic gas. Why had he bothered washing his hands if he was going to wipe them on his germ-infested Stubbies?
“Hey, Ben. Adam. What are you boys doing here?”
Ben reached to shake Dad’s hand. “Hey,
