Page 19 of The F*ck-It List

Then the lunch I’d packed myself to eat in my truck, fell out when I went to grab my coat and it landed in a puddle, spilling onto the dirty road. So I had to buy lunch, which I’d rather not do. And it was shit. My last customer of the day cancelled last minute, and I got caughtbehind a tractor all the way home, so by the time I walk through my front door, I’m feeling sour.

Picking up my post, I head through to the large farmhouse style kitchen. It’s old and homely and it’s where we always spent our time when we were with Aunt Jemma. She didn’t particularly love cooking, but she loved the kitchen and when she got older, Mum used to come around and cook for her, so we’d all be at the large kitchen table playing board games while Mum pottered around the stove.

I put on the kettle to make myself a coffee, and drop my keys onto the hook. Darcy rises from his kitchen bed—the dog has a bed in every room—and he comes over to me on slow, achy legs, flopping to a sit at my feet and leaning heavily against my knee.

“Hi,” I say absently as I flick through the envelopes. He nuzzles into me in response, and I lean down to scratch behind his ears.

With my coffee made, I sit at the table and start opening the mail, it’s mostly bills, business insurance needs renewing, tax for the truck is due, blah, blah, blah. I open another and put my mug down with more gusto than needed, spilling black coffee on the perpetually stained wood.

“Fuck,” I curse, about the coffee, but mostly about the letter in my hand.

Defaulted payment.

Monies owed.

Final notice.

Legal action.

“Motherfucker!” I stand quickly, my chair scraping loudly against the tile, so loudly Darcy startles from where he’d just collapsed backin his bed. “This is such bullshit,” I mumble to the letter, like it might argue back. “I just want to be done with this.”

I need to get out of here, get away from the letter that embodies my biggest regrets in life and probably bitch and moan to Eli for a couple of hours. So, it’s off to the pub. I grab Darcy’s lead along with my keys and head out the door again. Bea is stood outside the café chatting to some guy with his back to me, she sees me and smiles, giving an exaggerated wave over her head at me. When her friend turns around to see what she’s waving at, I practically snarl. Ross fucking Purcell. What’s that smarmy piece of shit doing here? And what’s Bea, the eternal sunshine, talking to him for?

Ross smiles at me with the same smug grin he had all through high school. It made me want to punch him then, it makes me want to punch him now. I never did and probably won’t, but I’m not exactly in the mood for him right now. He turns back around and continues talking to Bea, her smile soft and genuine and she looks interested in whatever he’s prattling on about. Which, for some reason, makes me so mad I grumble out loud as I lock my front door.

I’m about to ignore them completely and head to the pub when I see Ross reach out and cup Bea’s bare shoulder. I notice the slight falter in her smile before she pulls it back into place and I’m stomping across the road before my brain can catch up to my legs. When he sees me approach, his hand falls away, brushing down the length of her arm in the process and I don’t miss the way she takes a step back from him once she’s free.

“Hey, Zelig,” Ross says in a way that could be interpreted as friendly, but I note the sneer in his voice. He’s always called men by their surnames, thinking it makes him cool. He is monumentally wrong.

“What the hell are you doing back here?” I snap, not bothering to return his greeting and stopping a pinch too close to him to be comfortable. I’ve never been one to use my size for anything more than reaching high shelves, but right now, I’m loving the more than half a foot I have on him. I don’t acknowledge Bea, but I can practically feel her surprise at my less than friendly reception.

“Moved back to the village.” Ross shrugs, going for nonchalance, but I can see the slight panic in his beady little eyes.

Now, Port Doone is a small village and very sought after, so if a property becomes available to buy or rent, everyone tends to know about it and the only property that’s been on the market recently, was Bea’s new place. I smirk kind of cruelly. “Move back in with your parents?”

His friendly façade slips, nostrils flaring. “Temporarily,” he grits.

“And I’m guessing by the way you’re pawing at the first pretty girl you see that wife of yours kicked you out? Although I wouldn’t put it past you to—”

“The fuck is your problem, Zelig?” he snarls.

“You, mostly.” I sigh with an air of boredom.

He looks like he might want to hit me, and I would love for him to try. I’m not a fighter, but something tells me I’d enjoy Ross’s failed attempt to knock me out. Glancing back to Bea, he clearly decides not to embarrass himself and just curls his lip up in disgust. “Whatever, Zelig.” He turns back to Bea with a friendlier smile as he starts backing away. “I’ll see you around.”

“Sure,” she says kindly with a small wave, like she hadn’t just witnessed our hostile exchange.

When Ross has disappeared, Bea’s shining smile turns on me. I have the strong urge to ask her if she’s okay but then I get mad I even care.

“So, I’m pretty, huh?” she asks with amusement.

I feel heat blooming in my cheeks, and I growl out in annoyance, turning around to start back toward the pub. When I hear Bea’s footsteps following me, I don’t stop.

“So, um, I wanted to say thanks.”

“For what?” I grumble, keeping my strides long and quick.

“Connor,” she says brightly.