WALKING THE LINE

Chapter 15

ELLIE

Sunday had officially sucked: waking at two in the afternoon with a monster hangover, sneaking around to avoid Finn only to find him gone, Kye ignoring my frantic texts to sack Finn, and ending with me booking into a cheap motel on the outskirts of the city to avoid Finn until I could get Kye to do my dirty work.

Considering I still couldn't get hold of Kye, Monday wasn't shaping up any better.

My second double latte of the morning did little to wake me as I perched on my favorite bench at Circular Quay, watching the ferries. This was my ritual, a calming start to the week that never failed to quell the jaded cynic in me and resurrect the hidden optimist.

Because every Monday when I came to watch the busy harbor, I remembered doing a similar thing with my parents. Sitting by the manmade lake in Dubbo every week, watching the sailboats. It had been the rare time my parents were happy. Almost carefree. Buying me ice creams. Smiling at each other. Occasionally holding hands. Before Mum got bored and ran off with a younger guy, leaving Dad heartbroken and morose and disinterested in parenting his only child.

I'd hated Mum for her selfishness. Blamed her for my lack of siblings and lost family. It was the reason I'd wanted to have kids early, to make my own family.

Look how that had turned out.

But I returned to Circular Quay every Monday morning to remember a time I was happy, before family bust-ups and relationship failings and having my heart ripped out because I couldn't have what I wanted most.

"Thought I might find you here."

My heart sank as Finn sat next to me: too close, too gorgeous, too much.

"Leave me alone," I growled, draining the last of my coffee and instantly craving another. Not that I really needed it, because the caffeine didn't give me half as much of a buzz as Finn's proximity.

"Can't do that," he said, resting his elbows on the back of the bench and stretching out his legs, looking like a carefree tourist lapping up the sun. "We need to talk."

"No, we don't." I crushed the plastic cup in my hand and lobbed it into a nearby bin. "And by the way, you're fired. So pack your things and get out before I return."

To my astonishment, he laughed. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

"Would you prefer I take out a restraining order?" My tone was sickly sweet. "Bet that would go down a treat with Immigration and your working visa."

He didn't speak and when I shot him a sideways glance, rather than seeing panic, I glimpsed amusement.

"You'd do anything to get rid of me, huh?"

"Yep." If I nodded any harder my head would fall off.

"Too bad for you, because I'm not going anywhere." He swiveled to face me and his fingertip brushed my shoulder. I jumped at the surge that awakened my body far better than the two lattes. "You trusted me with the truth. Now it's time I trusted you."

Damn him for piquing my curiosity.

"I'll take your silence as approval to continue?" His mouth twisted into a wry grin and I had a hard time blocking out the vivid memories of how his mouth felt against mine. And lower.

Cursing my stupidity for wanting to hear what he had to say, I managed the briefest of nods.

"The turf position in Melbourne? My grandfather's dream, not mine." He huffed out a long sigh. "I'm the epitome of the good Irish son. Family comes first. Lived in Cork my whole life. Went into the patriarchal business. Had a staid relationship with the girl next door."