“Always.”
“You’re not sick of them?”
“I could eat them every day and not get tired of it. After everything we lived on out there, I’d still pick eggs.”
“Bacon?”
“Yes. Definitely bacon.” That’s something the island never gave us.
She drops it in the trolley and keeps going, grabbing the things we’ll need for pizza, spaghetti, and burgers.
Turns out fourteen years on an island doesn’t do much to expand your palate.
I’m halfway down the aisle when I spot them—a young bloke, early twenties, phone already up. The girl next to him is doing the same. They drift to keep us in frame while pretending to look at items on the shelves.
I know exactly what they’re doing.
I shift without breaking stride, putting myself between Charlotte and them.
“Don’t record us.”
The bloke lowers his phone, grinning. “Why not, sister-fucker? You’re walking around with her like she’s your girlfriend. It’s a public place, mate. I can film whatever I want. What are you gonna do about it?”
I know exactly what I could do.
Charlotte’s hand closes around my arm. “Don’t, Dane. Please. It’ll only make it worse.”
She’s right, but it doesn’t make it easier.
The girl steps closer, phone still raised.
“Are you really so much of a whore you’d fuck your own brother?”
“Let’s go.”
I take Charlotte’s hand and steer us toward the checkout.
“Aww,” the bloke calls after us. “Look at them holding hands, just like lovers.”
Behind us, the girl’s voice carries across the checkout, sounding delighted with herself.
“I can’t wait to put this on TikTok. This is going to blow up.”
“Easy,” the bloke says. “Absolute gold.”
I load the groceries onto the belt. The woman at the register doesn’t react. Doesn’t stare. Doesn’t linger. She scans the items and keeps moving.
I focus on that—the routine. The normality of it.
Item. Scan.
Item. Scan.
Item. Scan.
But I’m not really seeing any of it.
“Home, please, Paul,” I say once we’re back in the car.
