Page 12 of The Player

Liza darted a quick glance at Cindy’s door.

‘She’s fine. Still asleep.’

One of the many things Liza loved about Shar, Cindy being the carer’s priority. Liza had seen it instantly when she’d interviewed Shar for the job after her mum had left.

Liza had been a hapless eighteen-year-old, used to looking out for her younger sister but shocked to find herself a full-time carer overnight. She’d needed help and the cerebral palsy association had come through for her in a big way. They’d organised respite care, homeschooling, assisted with ongoing physiotherapy and occupational therapy, and sent part-time carers to help.

Liza had known Shar was the best when Cindy took an instant liking to her and the older woman didn’t patronise either of them.

At the time Liza hadn’t needed a mother—she’d had one and look how that had turned out—she’d needed a friend, and Shar had been all that and more over the years.

Liza couldn’t have attended functions and cultivated her WAG image without Shar’s help and they’d eased into a workable schedule over the years. Liza spent all day with Cindy and Shar came in several evenings a week, more if Liza’s WAG duties had demanded it.

Liza had been lucky, being able to devote so much time to Cindy and support them financially. And when her longterm investment matured today, she’d be sure to give Shar a massive wage increase for her dedication, loyalty, and friendship. She’d also increase Shar’s hours to include days so Liza could find a job in marketing. One that didn’t involve marketing herself in front of the cameras.

‘Sit.’ Shar pointed at the kitchen table covered in Cindy’s scrapbooking. ‘Start talking.’

‘Damn, you’re bossy,’ Liza said, not surprised to find a few muscles twanging as she slid onto the wooden chair.

She hadn’t had a workout like that in…forever. Though labelling what she’d done with Wade a workout seemed rather crass and casual. The passion they’d shared—the caresses, the strokes, the exploration of each other’s bodies—she’d never been so uninhibited, so curious.

She knew the transient nature of their encounter had a lot to do with her wanton playfulness—easy to be bold with a guy she’d never see again.

So why did the thought leave her cold?

On waking in his bed, she’d spent an inordinate amount of time studying his features. The proud, straight nose with a tiny bump near the bridge, the dark stubble peppering his cheeks, the tiny scar near his right temple, the sensuous lips.

Those lips and what they’d done to her…oh boy.

‘On second thoughts, I need more than a caffeine shot to hear this story.’ Shar stood on tiptoe and grabbed the tin box storing their emergency brownie stash.

While Shar prepared the tea and chocolate fix, Liza wondered if she’d done the right thing in bolting. She had no clue about morning-after etiquette. Should she have left a thank-you note?

When she’d slid out of bed and done her best not to wake him, she’d dressed in record time yet spent another ten minutes dithering over a note. She’d even picked up a pen, only to let it fall from her fingers when she’d stared at the blank hotel paper with fear gripping her heart.

As she’d looked at that paper, she’d been tempted to leave her number, before reality had set in. Wade hadn’t questioned her about her life or made polite small talk. He hadn’t been interested in anything beyond the obvious—her body—and that was enough of a wake-up call for her to grab her bag and get the hell out of that hotel room.

One-night stands were called that for a reason. That was all they were. One night. The uncharacteristic yearning to see him again? To have a repeat performance of how incredible he made her feel?

Not happening.

‘Right, here we go.’ Shar placed a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea in front of her along with two double-choc-fudge brownies on a side plate. ‘Get that into you, then start talking.’

Liza cupped her hands around the hot cup and lifted it to her lips, inhaling the fragrant bergamot steam. Earl Grey was her comfort drink, guaranteed to make her relax.

She’d drunk two pots of it the morning she’d woken to find her mum gone. It hadn’t been a shock. Louisa had been an emotionally absent mother for years before she’d left. Guess Liza should be grateful her mum had waited until Liza turned eighteen before she’d done a runner, leaving her the legal guardian of Cindy.

Crazy thing was, Liza had long forgiven her father for running out on them after Cindy’s birth. Some men were fickle and couldn’t stand a little hardship. She’d come home from school to find her dad shoving belongings into his car in front of her stoic mum. Louisa had cried silent tears, holding a twelve-month-old Cindy in her arms, while her dad had picked Liza up, hugged her tight, and told her to take good care of her sister.

She’d been doing it ever since.

While Liza might have forgiven—and forgotten—her dad, she couldn’t forgive her mum as easily. Louisa had watched Cindy grow. Had been a good mum in her own way. But Liza had seen the signs. The subtle withdrawing of affection, longer respite visits away from the girls, the scrimping and saving of every cent.

Her mum hadn’t left a note either. She’d just walked out of the door one morning with her suitcases and never looked back.

If Louisa expected Liza to be grateful for the birthday cards stacked with hundred-dollar bills that arrived every year on Cindy’s birthday, she could think again.

Cindy needed love and caring, not guilt money.

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