Page 7 of Muddy Messy Love

What have I got to lose?

The storm-grey sheets crack as I land, and I bum shuffle down the slope, careful not to rip my jeans on the screws. Lying back on crossed arms, I settle in to watch the stars fade.

If only I’d kept my big mouth shut about Mia.

Birds faintly chirp as the sun climbs, and the sound of traffic slowly grows. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and Jen’s smiling face greets me. She’s alive—her dad didn’t kill her. That’s something, at least. I open her message.

Jen:

Remember when you wore those patchwork flares for a month, hoping to inspire a fashion revival?

I roll my eyes and hit reply. Sadly, that was only two years ago and not my first thrift shop fail.

Me:

Yeah, unfortunately.

Jen:

Well, I know you’re hurting, but this whole situation? Still not as bad as that.

Fresh tears sting, and I shake my head with a smile. Jen’s nuts—the best kind of nuts. If only she were right too.

Two

Liam drags the lastbox from the rusty hire trailer, and flecks of orange paint scatter across Beth’s driveway like fluorescent confetti. The old thing sheds more than a chinchilla cat, courtesy of the backyard spray job, but it’s all I could afford.

“No offence, but that place is a shithole. It’s good you’re outta there,” Liam says.

Wiping sweat from my brow, I step back from the box pyramid stacked in the garage and sigh. “I know. But it was my shithole, you know? My first shot at independence, and I failed. Miserably.” My chest twists. “Wait until my mum finds out.”

One day I won’t be here anymore, Avery Lee. Then you’ll be sorry.

Liam hikes up the driveway, the tall box bulging at the bottom and cording his gangly forearms. Backlit by the late afternoon sun, the frames of his glasses glow lime green. He must own a dozen pairs, because they’re a different colour every day. Hehalts in front of me with a raised brow, his messy blond hair pointing in all directions. “Will she care?”

I shake my head. “Gloat, more likely.”

Pity flashes across his face, and I look away. “Where do you want this?” he asks, nudging the box higher and effectively changing the subject. Liam isn’t one to pry, which is a whole lot of good for a very different reason.

“What’s it say?”

“Nothing.” He shrugs. “Another blank.”

Strange. I swear I labelled everything. “Dump it there, and I’ll go through it later.” I gesture to my vintage dining table standing against the wall. It looks lonely already. The red laminate top seems duller—sadder somehow—and the funky chrome legs wobble as Liam sets down the box. They never wobbled at my apartment. After seventy years of service, it might finally be falling apart. Caving under the demands of the world.Like me.

Sighing, I amble to Beth’s timber workbench and hoist myself up to sit off the edge. My dangling feet throb, and my bed calls my name from the mezzanine. I’ve spent so much time up there the past two weeks, swinging between numbness and tears, it’s getting hard to leave, and Beth is worried. I can tell.

Liam wanders over to sit next to me, swiping up his bottle of water. A drizzle of sweat runs down his temple as he drinks. While late June, it’s uncharacteristically warm, but that figures. Trust Mother Nature to taunt me with sun three weeks into winter and kill the only excuse I have to live as a hermit. I wish I was grounded like Jen. It would be a relief rather than punishment.

Liam uses his rattyStar Warstee to dry his face. “At least now I can enjoy what’s left of my day off.”

I flash him a sympathetic smile. “Thanks for your help. I really appreciate it.”

“Like I had a choice. Gotta keep the boss happy.”

He throws me a wink, and I nudge him with my knee. Liam would help me even if he weren’t dating Jen. He’s that kind of guy. One of the good ones.

Chuckling, he retrieves his phone from his back pocket and glances down to check the screen. His mouth tilts into a goofy grin—the Jen grin.So while he’s distracted, I summon a breath and work up the courage to ask the question that’s pestered me all day:Has he heard anything?

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