Page 90 of Chasing Blue
I take a moment to draw in a breath and continue, “I had to have four units of blood pumped into me before they finally got the bleeding under control. They thought they were going to have to perform a hysterectomy but held off because of my age. I was unconscious and had gone into shock through a lot of it, so Ash had to tell me all of this. I was left with my womb, but the scar tissue means I’ve had issues ever since, and it’s unlikely I’ll ever be able to have children, but . . .”
I squeeze my eyes shut. I rarely say those words out loud. Keeping them inside, saying them in my head, means they’re not real, means I still have hope, but saying them aloud, changes that.
“That’s it really,” I say after a while, my voice thick and husky from all the tears and emotion.
“I was allowed to see her. The nurses and midwives were just beautiful and brought me a box with tiny clothes in it, and a kit so I could take her footprint. Asher helped me do that, then we dressed her, and I named her Zara. Zara Katherine Cole, after your mum and mine, and then a week later, I came back up here with my brother, and we had her cremated. Just me and Asher were there. No one else, just us. Your baby with Eden had just been born, Jack. Please don’t hate me, but I didn’t want to spoil the joy of your new baby with my sad news.”
“It was ours, our sad news. She wasourbaby too,ourlittle girl, Blue. I’m angry, so fucking angry. Not that you didn’t tell me, but that you went through all of that on your own. I should’ve been there, with you, for you. I should’ve fucking been there.” He sobs into my neck, and I just curl into him more. Instinctively, his arms know just what I need and pull me in tighter.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I tell him honestly.
“We were kids, Blue, clueless fucking kids, but look at us now. We’re here, years and miles later, we’re here, together. Despite everything, there’s nothing more right than me and you. My heart knows it. It followed you down the coast to Melbourne when my head had no idea you were there, and now it’s followed you here, chased you back here. I think it’s been chasing you for the past eighteen years, I just didn’t know it.”
His hands move to either side of my face, and he kisses away the salty tears covering it before pulling me back into him.
“It started in that bar behind us, on this beach. You’ve had eighteen years to run, but no more. You’re done running, I’m done chasing, this is where we start living.”
We’re both quiet for a long moment, tears still streaming from my eyes, but my sobbing has ceased. It’s just us on the beach, and as we sit in our contemplative silence, no doubt a million and one thoughts going through Jack’s mind as there is mine, above the lap of the waves, playing from my brother’s bar across the road, I hear it. Jack lets me know he does, too, when he presses his mouth to my ear and sings that he can’t help himself, he loves me and nobody else.
Standing with me still in his lap, he slides me to my feet once he’s upright, his mouth still pressed against my ear, and whispers, “Sand jive with me, Blue.”
So I do.
With puffy eyes, blotchy, tear-stained cheeks, and windswept hair, I sand jive with Jack on the beach, our beach.
* * *
I waketo the sound of voices, and when I reach for my phone, I see that it’s almost midday. I’m in bed at my brother’s place, the window’s wide open, the sounds of the ocean carrying into the room.
I have a bit of a dull headache, which is surprising. After what we drank last night back at my brother’s bar, I’m surprised me and Jack were still standing by the end of it.
We’d played all our old favourites on the jukebox, and danced, sung, and drank until the early hours. Then we’d come back here and had messy, giggly, drunken sex.
I don’t remember all of it, but I do remember thinking that even after all that had happened on the beach, it had ended as one of my best nights ever.
We hadn’t discussed what I’d told him on the beach for the rest of the night. We just enjoyed being with each other and did what seems to happen when we’re not breaking each other’s hearts, we had a good time.
Back then, all those years ago, being with Jack was easy. We fit and were always laughing, dancing and happy. I don’t know how else to describe it. Like he’d said on the beach, his heart knew, and I’m pretty certain mine did too.
The bedroom door swings open, and every hot-blooded female’s fantasy fills it. Jack Cole, wearing boxers, a white singlet, and holding a takeaway coffee cup in each hand.
I sit myself up, aware that my hair’s still half up in a messy bun, half hanging in my face, and I’m probablynotlooking my best, but the way Jack Motherfucking Cole’s looking at me right now, I feel like a queen.
“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he says as he hands me my coffee.
“You talking to me or the coffee?” I ask with a smile as he leans in and kisses the top of my head.
“You, princess. Your hair looks fucking amazing. Did you do it yourself?”
“I did. Had to watch a couple of YouTube tutorials, but I think I’ve nailed it.”
“You did, it makes me wanna nailyou—to the bed—again,” he says with a wiggle of those thick brows of his as he climbs in next to me.
“Sweet talker,” I reply between sips. “Keep it up, you can nail me to the bed, the wall, the ocean floor if you like.”
“Oh, I think I proved last night I can keep it up all right.”
Heat spreads from my belly up to my chest and neck before making my cheeks burn as I think of all the ways he kept it up last night. I’ll be surprised if I can actually walk when I do finally attempt to leave this bed . . . which, I’ve just realised, smells of sex.
