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“Another?” he prompts, standing and reaching for my glass before I can answer, obviously wanting to escape the tension-building-by-the-minute air around us as much as I do.
The loud groan of a wooden door draws my attention. Harley reappears, looking a little dishevelled but more composed than earlier. When our eyes lock, I lean back in my chair, challenging him to make the next move. He looks to his feet, scuttling away like the coward he is. Long lost is the cocky bravado he once oozed.
Nick, Harley, and myself—all under one roof—with an audience watching our every move. Perfect.
“Where are you living now?” I ask Nick.
“At the farm.”
“You still live at home?” The words are out before I can stop them. I couldn’t imagine anything worse.
“Yes and no. I’m at the same place but in the granny flat out the back.”
“Oh.”
“It’s fine.” He shrugs. “Has everything I need. And Mum still cooks and does my washing.”
I fake a smile. “Great.”
Placing the glass against my lips, I take a long drink.
“You really never settled down in the four years I was away?” I ask, my curiosity not satisfied.
Exhaling, he shifts in his seat.
“There was a girl. She lived a few towns over. We met at a fundraiser. I thought we wanted the same things. I proposed after six months of dating.” I watch his throat move as he takes a long gulp of his beer. “Turns out, she wasn’t ready to settle down. My forwardness freaked her out. The relationship wasn’t really the same after that, so we decided to part ways. There was another before her, but when I wouldn’t … she wanted to … well … let’s just say that didn’t last long.”
“Oh, Nick,” I murmur, realising he had the same problem with her as he did with me. Guilt swirls in my stomach at the thought. “I’m sorry.”
He nods. “Thanks. I’m over it all now, but it took me a while. I don’t take dealing with heartbreak very well.”
“No one does.”
There’s a heavy tension between us that thankfully gets broken when the waitress places our food in front of us.
Our eyes meet fleetingly before I look down at my plate. I force myself to eat at least half of my meal—even though it tastes like rubber—before I push away my plate. Nick has barely swallowed the last of his dinner before I’m leaning close.
“Want to get out of here?”
He only looks surprised for a moment before he nods. Nick’s hand rests on the small of my back as he guides me around the bodies and out the exit. I look over my shoulder to see Harley watching. I shoot him a withering stare before we disappear through the door.
I try to ignore the dust landing on my heels as we make our way back to his ute. The carpark is patchy and uneven. I squint in the dim lighting, trying to avoid holes that are long overdue to be filled in.
“What’s next for you?” Nick asks me as we bounce along the road. He clears his throat and repeats his question louder.
“I have no idea. I need to move out. Re-evaluate some life decisions. Move on, I guess.”
“You’re planning to leave?” he questions, glancing at me. “Again?”
I half-shrug, meeting his gaze. “Unless I have a reason to stay.”
Our eyes lock on each other for so long, I hear the tires spin into the gravel on the side of the road. Nick yanks the steering wheel to the right, pulling us back onto the road. He apologises about twenty times, but I wave him off. I’ve been through a lot worse than something as minor as that.
Nick removes his seatbelt but keeps the truck running when we pull up at the end of my driveway, the air-conditioning barely cool as it spurts through the vents. It makes a loud humming sound that would drive me mad if I was forced to be in here for a long time.
“Thank you for dinner,” I say, wanting to lie and say it was great food, but I can’t force myself to pretend. I truly can’t hide how much I hate it here.
“Thankyoufor coming.” He grins his wide, teeth-baring grin. “Honestly, seeing you walk into that café … I couldn’t believe it. After all this time.”
