It’s nothing. You had a great time with him, he provided you a nice place to stay, but now it’s back to reality. No more messing around. You’ve got an audition to nail and a job to finish.
When they arrived back at Newcastle, Brodie didn’t materialise on the lower deck. Chantal decided to avoid him by getting ready for her shift. Smoky shadow made her eyes look wide and alluring… a clear gloss played up her natural pout. The make-up gave her something to hide behind—another persona to help her get through the shift. The patrons of the bar saw only the image she wanted them to see, not the real her.
But Brodie had seen the real her. The scared girl with too-high expectations, a faltering career and a predisposition for panic attacks. Appealing stuff.
She bit down on her lip so hard the metallic tang of blood seeped onto her tongue. She couldn’t afford to lose it now. A second audition with the Harbour Dance Company was a sign that she was heading in the right direction. A sign that perhaps everything would turn out the way she wanted it to. Or did she want more than that?
Her packed bags sat by the kitchen bench. How long had she been living out of a bag now? Too long. The rest of her belongings had been stashed at her mother’s place, with a few extra essentials in the back of her car… if it was still in the bar’s car park after all this time.
Oddly, she didn’t care. Numbness had taken over the anger, smoothing down the edges of her emotions until she felt smooth and cold. Closed off… the way she preferred it.
Hoisting her bag over her shoulder, she slipped her feet into a pair of ballet flats and made her way onto the deck. Brodie’s voice floated down from the upper level. He was talking to one of his sisters. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. He had a certain tone for his sisters. Tough, and yet so full of love it made her heart ache. No one spoke to her like that—not even her mother.
Should she bid him a formal goodbye? Thank him for giving her a place to stay? Probably.
Instead she left, heading towards the bar with a hard knot rocking the pit of her stomach. Keep going… one foot in front of the other. You need distance and so does he.
She was doing the right thing. Staying would only be prolonging the inevitable breakdown of their relationship… whatever that was. She didn’t know how to label it.
At some point he’d been a mere acquaintance, a secret crush. Then a friend. Then a friend with benefits… And now?
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing away the persistent thumping at the base of her skull. Dancing tonight would be tough, but she had to get through it. Light was most certainly at the end of the tunnel… so long as she kept Brodie out of her head.
‘What’s wrong, Brodes? You sound upset.’ Lydia’s voice floated through the phone, her concern twisting something sharp in his chest.
‘I’m fine. It’s the sound of relaxation. You know how long it’s been since I took a holiday.’
‘Yeah.’ She laughed. ‘You work too hard. You don’t sound relaxed, though.’
‘It’s nothing.’
‘Swear?’
He gritted his teeth. He’d never sworn on a lie to any one of his sisters and he wasn’t about to start now. Perhaps if he didn’t say anything she’d get bored and move on.
Lydia audibly smirked into the silence. ‘What’s her name?’
Damn. ‘Her name doesn’t matter.’
‘Oh, come on. I don’t get to do the boy thing much—how about a little vicarious living?’
She said it with such calm acceptance that he wanted to hang up the phone and get to her in any way possible. It wasn’t fair that she didn’t have a boyfriend simply because she couldn’t walk. Although with the way Chantal had left him with a permanent imbalance perhaps it was a good thing.
‘Her name is Chantal. She’s a friend.’
‘But you want more?’
‘No, I don’t. We agreed to keep things… friendly.’ His brow creased. He was so not talking about this with his little sister.
‘Do you love her?’
He hesitated. ‘Of course not. I only have enough love for you guys… There’s only so many women a guy can have in his life before he goes crazy.’
Lydia huffed and he could practically see her rolling her green eyes at him. ‘You sound like Dad.’
There was a scary image. I take care of you girls. I don’t run away from my family when the whim takes me.
‘When was the last time you heard from Dad?’
‘Touché,’ Lydia said with a sigh. ‘Why won’t you be more than friends with Chantal?’
‘We’re not having this conversation, Lyds.’
‘But—’
‘Not. Having. This. Conversation.’
‘OMG, you’re so boring.’
He could hear the laughter in her voice and he thanked the heavens that she was having a better day today.
‘I miss you.’
‘I miss you too.’ There was a slight pause on the other end of the line. ‘I would like it if you got married one day.’
‘Marriage isn’t for me.’ He shook his head, wondering how on earth he’d got roped into talking about relationships. ‘Besides, you already have three sisters. You don’t need another one.’
‘But I might not get married and I’d like to be in a wedding. Why wouldn’t you want to do it?’
Brodie swallowed the lump in his throat at the thought of all the things he took for granted. Why wouldn’t he want to do it? Did he even know why? He told himself he didn’t have room in his life for a relationship… but then again Chantal was different from his ex. She wasn’t clingy or needy… quite the opposite! He’d sworn off long-term relationships because he knew he’d have to choose between them and his family. What if he’d been wrong? What if he could have both?
‘You’ll get married one day, Lyds. Not until I’ve checked the guy out, though. I’ll need to make sure he’s good enough for you.’
She laughed. ‘You’d better not scare any potential husbands away.’
‘Watch me.’
He hung up the phone and made a mental note to pop in and see Lydia as soon as he got back to Queensland. Perhaps he’d head back earlier than planned. It wasn’t as if Chantal would be coming back to the boat after their argument. Without her he didn’t have a reason to stay.
And where would she stay? A cold tremor ran the length of his spine, settling in the pit of his stomach. The bar accommodation wasn’t safe, he believed that even more now after what she’d told him today. He’d noted the single lock on the door while Chantal had packed her bags in front of him. That door needed at least another five locks before it became remotely secure. Not that the cheap wood door would withstand a well-aimed kick or the swing of a crowbar…
He dropped onto a sun lounger and put his head in his hands. How had it gone downhill so quickly? One minute they were out on the ocean, racing the dolphins, and the next they were yelling at one another. That was definitely not in the vein of their friends-with-benefits arrangement.
Maybe he could convince her to let him pay for a hotel room. There was a suitable beach resort down the road from the bar. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it would be more secure than her room. He could give her a couple hundred bucks, make sure she was safe, and then leave her the hell alone.
Would she take