Page 46 of The Winning Ticket

“Why was your Dad giving you a hard time about coming back?”

Right, so she is going to skip past the work stuff and go straight to the Dad stuff.

I let my arms drop from her waist and step back a little. “He just gets like this every time I start coming back to Brisbane more. He’s worried that I’m going to end up leaving Stanthorpe and come back here.”

She’s quiet for a moment as she continues to survey me, and I shift uneasily.

“Are you happy out there?” she asks eventually, and I laugh.

“I don’t really have a choice, so it is what it is,” I say, and I can’t help the bitterness that seeps into my tone.

“Why?”

“Why what?” I know exactly what she’s asking, but I play dumb, and she knows it.

“Why don’t you have a choice?”

Maddie comes racing in and starts jumping up at Bri, demanding attention.

“Ack, down,” she commands, her voice changing to an authoritative tone.

I’m grateful for the distraction.

Maddie sits, her tail wagging while her little body shakes with excitement, and Bri laughs, bending to pet her.

“Hello, baby girl. Did you miss me?”

Maddie barks, and I swear it’s like the little dog is saying ‘yes’.

Bri moves to get her a treat, and I let out a breath, grateful that the attention is off me. I’m not ready to unload years of guilt and trauma; I just want to hang out with her.

I head to the couch and watch while she moves around the kitchen.

“Drink?” she asks, holding up a bottle of wine.

“I’ve got beer in the fridge,” I say, and she nods, pouring herself a glass and grabbing me a beer before she joins me on the couch.

“Enough about my shit, how was your week?” I ask before she can pick up where she left off.

She sips her wine and looks at me over the rim of her glass. Then, setting the glass down on the coffee table, she keeps her eyes focused on me.

“You’re not going to elaborate, are you?” she asks, raising one eyebrow.

“I don’t really want to go into the specifics of it all,” I reply, shrugging.

She’s quiet for another moment, and I take a mouthful of beer.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

I nod. “Yeah, I know. But you’ve got a lot of your own stuff going on, and honestly, talking about my stuff isn’t going to change anything, so there’s no point in bringing it up.”

“I would hope that you’d know me well enough by now to know that I’m capable of being there for my friends, regardless of what’s happened in my own life,” she says, squeezing my hand.

I tug her closer, tucking her into my side and putting my arm around her.

“It’s fine, Little B,” I say, kissing her temple.

She relaxes into my side. “Fine, I’ll let it go for now ’cause I can tell you really don’t want to talk about it. But one day, JJ, you will be telling me.”

---