Page 135 of Muddy Messy Love

Squeezing me tighter, Jen grins. “There’s the girl I fell in love with.”

Twenty-Seven

Three Months Later

Through the all-consuming agonyof heartbreak lives a secret land of peace. But access to this land requires an action counter to my every instinct—surrender. Rather than resist, I must let the pain stampede through me unobstructed, but when it’s done, there I find myself, floating in merciful serenity. Until the next caustic wave rolls in.

The cycle is gruelling yet cathartic, and every day, I feel a smidge lighter. Whether that’s thanks to healing or mere adaptation, I don’t know, but it also doesn’t matter. I now have the kind of support I’ve always craved—an ever-present friend that will never leave.Me. And as a result, everything is bearable, and the ground upon which I stand is solid.

The broom knocks against the skirting boards as I sweep the studio floor, gliding in time to Sam Smith’s soulful croon.

“Are you sure about this?” Beth asks, wrapping up the gilt-framed photo of me and Jen in bubble wrap.

I throw her a half smile. “The lease is signed. It’s a done deal.” Truth be told, I’m as nervous as I am excited.

“I know, but I can get you out if you want. There’s always a loophole.”

Don’t tempt me.

I stack my hands and chin on the end of the broom handle and look at Beth. “I need to do this. I want to do this.”

She nods once and then resumes taping up a cardboard box. “I know you’ll make it work.”

“I’d better, or I’ll be flat broke and back here.” With a wink, I lean the broom against the wall and take the box from Beth’s arms to stack on top of the others lining the gallery wall. The amount of crap I’ve accumulated since moving in is ridiculous.

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” Beth calls out.

“No offence, but yeah, it would.” To pull this off, I’ve had to pledge every cent I own and ditch my spot at uni. I’m all in with six months to make it work, so failure isn’t an option, and I’ll be dead before ever taking a cent from Thomas. It’s a shame going to the press and destroying that fucker would drag me through the mud and hurt my brothers. If only there were another way. A man like him should never be in power.

A deep horn blasts from out front as I return, prompting Beth to clap. “It’s showtime, baby.”

With a deep breath, I scan the barren studio, memorising its smell and the way the plantation shutters slice up the sun and paint glowing stripes on the floor. If it weren’t for this inspiring space—and beautiful Beth—none of this would be happening. The muse might never have returned. A pang of sadness and pre-emptive nostalgia clutches my chest, and I catch Beth wearing an expression to match. “Have I ever told you you’re the best sister in the world?” I ask.

Her watery smile tilts. “A few times.”

Closing the space between us, I pull her in for a hug, squeezing her like a sauce sachet. “I’m going to miss the crap out of you, sis. If you hadn’t brought home a stray from Sydney, I’d feel terrible. But now you won’t be alone or sex-deprived, so that’s good, right?”

Beth whacks my arm, huffs, and pulls away with scarlet cheeks but soon scrunches up her nose. “Do you think it’s too soon to live together?”

“I think you should do whatever the hell you want. You only live once. Besides,Desmondseems nice.”

She rolls her eyes. “Stop saying his name like that.”

“Like what?” I jiggle my eyebrows. “How else should I sayDesmond?”

Beth cocks a brow. “You dated a criminal calledSlade. Are you truly one to talk?”

Slade. Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in forever. I chuckle. “Touché.” But the mention of any former flame triggers memories of Cole, and another wave of pain crashes through me.

Breathe, Aves. Just breathe. You’ve got this.

I do—I do got this—but fuck, I miss him. His resonant laugh, our meaningful talks, the smile that’s just for me. The way he stares into my eyes and reads my soul.Stared. The way hestaredinto my eyes—past tense. My heart spasms, hitching my breath. This was so much easier before the initial anger washed away. It should be illegal to miss someone this much.

The horn bellows again, but I’m thankful for the distraction. I plod to the front door and step out onto the porch to find a grimy truck reversed up the driveway, idling. Gaudy fluoro paint advertising the hire company blankets one side as black smoke putters out the exhaust pipe. I plant my hands on my hips. “Are you two going to sit there pounding the horn all day or come in to help?”

Liam’s boofhead pops out the driver’s side window. Today his glasses are sleek and black—way too sophisticated for him. I frown. He almost looks…normal—mature. Weird.

“Think I’ll just stay here,” he yells. “Might even buy one of these fuckers. My balls tripled in size the second I cranked the engine.”

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