Page 81 of Muddy Messy Love

“Totally,” I agree.

Playfully, she slaps my knee. “Why do you look like I gave you a terminal diagnosis? This is a good thing, right?”

My brain spins. Is it? Am I not just setting myself up for heartbreak? I mean, Cole is successful. Smart. Virtually my boss. Nine years older—decades wiser. And hot. So damn hot he could have anyone. Slime creeps over my skin, and my stomach curdles. The higher you fly, the further to fall, and boy am I familiar with splatting to the ground. I’ve only just scraped myself back together from last time and don’t think I could do it again.

“I’m terrified,” I whisper, barely audible but loud enough to make it real.

Jen squeezes my hand. “That’s understandable. Especially after Slade.” She coughs into her other hand and mumbles, “Tosser.”

“It’s not only that,” I say, fighting a smile I don’t want.

Jen studies me, but her calm and thorough attention triggers some kind of stage fright. I avert my gaze and twist at the paper doughnut bag in my lap. “People leave me,” I rasp. “Dad. Mum. Beth. It seems…inevitable.”

I don’t admit I think there’s something horribly wrong with me deep inside—a fatal, unforgivable flaw. A repellent peopleonly see when they get too close. After all, if your own mother doesn’t like you or stay, who the hell ever could?

“I haven’t left,” Jen says.

The corner of my mouth tilts up dryly. “Yet.”

Her red brows furrow as she considers me. “I think you have an abandonment wound.”

“An abandonment wound?”

She nods. “We’ve touched on it in class.” Jen nibbles her bottom lip and seems to search her brain. “I think the thing to realise is that people didn’t leave because of you—they left because of them—and it doesn’t mean everyone in future will.”

My chin falls to my chest. She’s probably right. It sounds logical enough. But regardless, that same sick, dark feeling grips my solar plexus, screaming bullshit.

“I can’t speak for your dad,” Jen says. “I never met him, but I’m certain he adored you.” The delicate way she talks about Dad does little to soften the instant ache inside my bones. “But your mum? I hate to say this, Aves, but she was nasty. I had to bite my tongue until it bled. I think it’s good she left. I think the universe did you a favour even though it hurt. And Beth?” Jen tilts her head. “Well, she didn’t leave like that or forever. She’s just chasing her dreams in sexy sky-high stilettos.” Jen winks, and I smile.

God, I miss Beth.

“In any event,” Jen continues, nudging my arm. “Don’t let fear captain your ship.”

My grin is wide and instant—the out I desperately need. “Did you really just say that to me?”

Jen’s nose crinkles. “I really just did. But please don’t tell anyone I’m the Queen of Corn.”

I laugh and launch a doughnut ball towards her mouth. She catches it and chomps away with a grin, then nudges her chin down the road. “I spy another thrifty calling our name.”

“Lucky last,” I say.

We park directly in front of the op-shop and lock Betsy before heading inside. A hideous orange couch stands off to our left with baby-pink ruffled cushions plumped in each corner. A shaggy green rug covers the floor at its feet with all the splendour of fake grass. Sometimes thrift shops nail their displays and work brilliantly with what they have. And sometimes they don’t.

I caress the couch and squeeze, enjoying the silky texture under my fingers. “Quite the pinnacle of interior design, huh?”

Jen giggles. “Maybe for Austin Powers.”

I meander to the next display but then stop dead with a gasp. Across the room, standing with the white goods, illuminated by a beam of light as if sent from heaven itself, is one thing I never thought I’d find. “Holy shit,” I whisper, barely believing my eyes. I race towards it and drop to my knees, running my hands over its cold metal curves and sturdy legs.

Jen wanders over to halt beside me. “What is that?”

With my arms wrapped around it, I look up at her in disbelief. How can she not know? “It’s a pottery wheel.”

“Oh,” she says.

“Just ‘oh’? Do you have any idea what I could do with this?”

Her smile tugs up, and she arches a cheeky brow. “Have a filthy Swayze moment with Cole?”

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