Page 77 of Muddy Messy Love

He wriggles an arm under me, then pulls us closer. Our padded jackets wisp against each other, and our denim legs entangle. I rest my head high on his chest. Maybe Cole’s history is just that. Maybe mine could be too. Maybe it’s right to leave the ugly in the past to die and only be judged on who we are now. It’s an enticing thought, but the mood has already plummeted. Why do I always fuck things up?

“Aves, there is something I should tell you.” Cole’s sombre tone triggers that sickly feeling to return, and I don’t want it, especially if it causes him pain.

I reach up and press my finger to his lips. “It’s okay. I only need to know your now.”

Ignoring the clench of his jaw, I snuggle back in and look away, letting nature soak into my bones until the silence returns to comfortable. Under the quilt, our body heat creates a sauna that offsets the chilly air.

“Do you want to sleep out here?” Cole eventually asks. “There’s no rain forecast.”

Water. The only element missing. I glance up at him. His skin glows amber, and that sprightliness rekindles in his eyes as flames dance in their reflection. I commit the image to memory. “Sounds perfect.”

Beyoncé’s velvety voice pines through the speaker as I step back from the studio bench, planting my hands on my hips with a sigh. It’s been nearly two months of work, but completion is at last in sight and tickling my tongue like sweet popping candy.

I scan over the first five pieces, all finished with copper and steel and rainbow-glazed hair. Each is significant on its own, but together they’re starting to tell a story. A story of depletion and futility—heartache and torment—innocence and beauty.Hope. They’re a solid manifestation of my year to date, and whenHigh Heart SymphonyandGirl, Take Meare complete in a few short weeks, so will be the series.

I drop to the dusty vinyl floor, cross my legs, and stare some more as pride flourishes through my body and tugs at my lips. They’re amazing.

Cole’s advice from last night rings in my ears:People need to see it. Do it only for you, and it won’t matter what they say.AsI nibble my bottom lip, memories of Beth’s optimism follow:I think I’d like an Avery Masters original in my gallery.Beth has expensive taste, and the more I recall her reaction that day—reanalyse her tone and micro-expressions—the more I believe her.

My stomach swirls but this time feels different. It’s light and tickly and dancing around a deep-rooted sense of knowing, like tiny white butterflies circling a century-old tree. I climb to my knees and snatch my phone from the bench, then clean thecamera lens on my stretchy pants. The natural afternoon light spears through the studio window and perfectly illuminates the bench. I take multiple snaps of each piece from varied angles, then plonk down on my jumbo patchwork cushion to edit the best ones. I draft up an eloquent email and attach the photos, research eight local galleries, and register a domain name and the corresponding social handles while I’m at it. Just in case. Then I do what I’m finally ready to do. I bulldoze my fear and hit send.

World, here I am. Do with me what you will.

“You’re glowing,” Hannah says as she wanders into the Mini-Bees staffroom early Monday. “I don’t know whether to be happy for you or disgusted given it’s my brother who undoubtably put that goofy look on your face.”

She’s mostly right. I hang my satchel on my designated hook and grin. “Disgusted, definitely. He did this thing where—”

“Oh God, please don’t.” Hannah plugs her ears and breaks into a horrible rendition of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”

Tugging down her hands, I chuckle. “I’m joking. A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“Thank God for that,” she says with an exaggerated sigh.

I shrug off my jacket and sling it over my bag, then adjust the fall of my floaty dress. Mother Nature has gifted us a glimpse of spring with luminous blue skies and fluffy clouds that make Melbourne sparkle. “Did you have a good weekend?” I ask.

Hannah shrugs a delicate shoulder. “The usual mum stuff. I played with Ella, cleaned my apartment, bought groceries, and watched Netflix.” She strains a smile. “As you can see, I’m quite the party girl.”

I study her for a beat, then lower my gaze, sensing I’m snooping through her private thoughts. There’s sadness there, made all the more obvious by the jittery way she’s wringing her hands, but I don’t know what to say. I can’t imagine being a single mum at our age. I can’t even look after myself, let alone a tiny human. Especially one as precious as Ella. “You know, if you ever need a sitter, I’d be happy to help,” I settle on. “You could hit the town. Get your single groove on.” I waggle my eyebrows, but Hannah scoffs.

“Oh yeah. My brother wouldlovethat.” Sarcasm drips from her silvery voice, and I frown.

“Cole doesn’t like babysitting?” The thought saddens me more than it should. “Never mind, I’ll do it alone.”

“Oh, he likes babysitting just fine, but not so his little sister can go out to get her ‘single groove’ on, as you put it.” She makes air quotes around my words.

“Seriously?”

With a baby sigh, Hannah winces. “Cole’s protective. He’s done a lot for us. I don’t want to disappoint him, and I get it. The world isn’t always a great place, and I have Ella to think about. I’m not the meat market type, anyway. I’d rather a gushy book and quiet night in.”

As I stare, silent screams radiate from her like a sonar signal, compelling me to ignore that elaborate justification and help. “Let me deal with Cole,” I suggest. “Block out Saturday night in three weeks. That’ll give me time to prime him.” Red flags ripple at the thought of interfering, but Hannah’s a sensible, grown-arse woman. She deserves freedom and to feel her age for once. What is it with her and Cole and their baby-boomer severity?

Her eyes twinkle. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course.”

The identical twin to Cole’s dimple puckers her rosy cheek, and she squeezes me into a hug. “Thank you, Aves.” Hersunflower scent intensifies, but before I can hug her back, she dashes out to the playroom as if spooked by her own affection. I watch through the glass as she sweeps Ella into a spin, then kisses her chubby cheeks. Regardless of what happens with Cole, I might’ve found a lifelong friend in Hannah.

Grinning, I dig my phone out from my satchel to see if there are any replies to my emails. Wishful thinking given it’s barely 8:00 a.m., but a girl can hope. The tiny envelope is missing from the top of my screen, and still missing four hours later when I check again. But this time, I slouch and drop my phone back into my satchel with a sigh.

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