Page 31 of Shattered Hearts

“Did you want some tea?”

I nod, patting Freddie slowly in an effort not to wake him, but the sensation of dragging my fingertips through his fur keeps my anxiety in check. Grounding is such a big thing for a person who deals with anxiety, or so my therapist, Charlotte, says. Freddie is one of those things, keeping me steady and distracting my mind. Another is baking, running, and Grayson.

Yep. Probably not ideal to put someone in that position, but he’s been there for me more times than I can count. One hug from him, and my anxiety is held at bay.

Well, maybe not as much recently, but when you’ve clung to a friend for as long as I have, your mind and body adapt to relying on them. It’s comfortable and familiar. Exactly what I need when I’m on the brink of a panic attack.

“Did you find any new ones to try?” I ask as Mum busies herself in the kitchen.

Mum’s eyebrows pump once. “Of course we did. Your dad found a nice vanilla black tea, and I bought an energised one. It’s meant to be better than coffee.”

I shake my head. “No way. In my opinion, nothing beats coffee.”

“That’s because you now rely on it so much that you’re addicted.”

A soft snort comes through my nose. “Yeah, but it’s a healthy addiction.”

“Not when your blood runs on it,” Mum highlights, giving me a look.

“I prefer the term life juice, and that’s exactly what it does. It gives me more life.” I smile sweetly at her.

Mum snickers, pouring water into cups as I patiently wait, feeling Freddie’s purrs run through my thighs. The moment she places the mug in my hand and settles down beside me, her whole demeanor loosens. The tightness in her shoulders drops and the small lines around her lips blur as she stares at me.

Her hand reaches out, touching my arm. “Why don’t you tell me what happened, Laynie girl.”

So, I do.

I tell her about the spontaneous trip to Sydney I took to visit Sadie. About the night out, sleeping with Scott when I wasn’t in my right mind, and then the morning after when I realised my mistake. I conveniently leave out the part about feeling alone with them travelling, which was why I slept with Scott in the first place. He was there, offering me company when it felt that nobody else was.

Well, that turned out terrifically, didn’t it.

I recount the pregnancy tests and doctor’s appointment that confirmed everything. We both shed a few tears, and when I tell her that Scott still hasn’t contacted me, I shake to the point of spilling some tea on my jumper.

“Aww, come here.” I’m wrapped up in her embrace once again, tea now resting on the coffee table. “It’ll be all right, my sweet girl.”

That makes me snort. “Do you really believe that?” Because I’m starting to lose more hope every single morning when I wake up to no notifications from him.

She’s silent for a long moment before murmuring, “Things have a way of working out. You might not understand it right now, but you will one day. And I know you, Laynie. You’re strong. You’ll get through this, just as I did.”

My mouth presses tightly as silent tears slip down my chin and neck.

“You know your father also told me that he couldn’t go through with it.”

My pulse stills. Mum doesn’t talk about my real dad all that much, but from the few breadcrumbs I’ve collected over the years, my birth dad was an absolute loser.

“He told me that in front of my friends. We were at Ashwood Afterhours, back when it was newer and smelt less of stale beer.”

“Was there a time that it smelt better?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.

She pinches my ribs gently. “I was with my friends for Hazel’s twenty-first birthday, and he came racing in as if his pants were on fire, but they weren’t. I checked.” I sniff a laugh. “He walked right up to our booth and told me he would be leaving in the morning for Newcastle. To say that I was devastated would be an understatement.”

“He left you knowing that you were pregnant,” I state in a hushed tone.

Her head nods against mine. “Tony wasn’t a great boyfriend, so I should have known when I found out that I was having you that he wouldn’t stick around.” She pauses, forcing me to look at her. “He told me to get rid of you.”

My eyebrows twitch as I straighten. Hand grabbing hers, I watch her eyes glaze over with unshed tears. My own blur with moisture.

“What did you say?” I ask.