Page 47 of Sugarloaf Ridge Lies

Jerry chuckles. “And did she?”

I scratch at my temple. “Well, when I got back to the table, his face was as red as a beetroot. He held up his phone and read out verbatim the text I thought I sent to my girlfriend.”

“Oh, shit.”

Raking my hands back through my hair, I’m back in that restaurant, palms sweating, stomach rolling, Mr Redface throwing a temper-tantrum and stiffing me with the bill. “I was mortified. He stormed out. Funnily enough it didn’t get back to my father. Maybe he was ashamed that I’d called out his behaviour.”

“Sounded like the prick needed a dose of reality anyway.”

“That’s for sure.” Jerry sweeps up my closest hand in his. “When are we goin’ out for burgers? I swear I’ll let you order whatever you want, fries—” He kisses my knuckles. “—onion rings—” Kiss. “—chicken wings—” Kiss. “—whatever.”

“I appreciate that.” I snort out a breath. “How about Friday or Saturday? Give me something to get me through the week.”

“Sold.”

Jerry stands and pulls me to my feet. He slides his hands down the side of my waist and brings our bodies flush. “Never let any man make you feel as if you can’t be you. Including me. Kick my arse if I’m ever out of line.”

I slide my hands around his waist and into the back pockets of his jeans. “Kick this arse?” I squeeze the rounded globes, drawing a groan from Jerry. “Not sure I’d have the heart to.”

He smacks a loud kiss to my lips. “I’m not perfect, Liv. Don’t be afraid to call me out, ’kay?”

“I appreciate that.”

“Now, how ’bout you show me how to make these s’mores.”

***

Fingers sticky, thes’mores are rich, goopy, and hella messy, just how Nan and I made them.I could cry.Snuggled on the ground by the fire, with blankets and pillows, we finish dessert.

It won’t be long before the night is done, so it’s now or never.

“Jerry, there’s something I need to explain. About the other night at my place?”

“Oh yeah?”

I swallow hard as Jerry leans onto his side, elbow supporting him. “When things were getting serious between us, and I kinda froze—”

He tucks wayward strands of hair from my messy bun, behind my ear. “I told you, we take it at whatever pace you want.”

Oh, you sweet thang.

Before I lose my nerve, I kneel on the blanket and pull up the right side of my skirt. In the muted glow, the scar running the length of my thigh is revealed to him.Will he find it grotesque?

“Babe?” Jerry extends his hand, but stalls before making contact with my skin. “Can I?”

A shiver runs up my spine. “Yes.”

With a featherlight touch he traces the line where stitch upon stitch held me together. His touch comes and goes as he skates over numb patches along the fading white line.

“You were worried about me seeing this?”

I nod. Jack couldn’t even look at it. Back then the scar was thick, angry, and multi-coloured as if something horrid was lurking beneath my skin. I can’t really blame him. At least now it’s on its way to blending in, but the scars beneath will always remain—the phantom pains, the memories.

“You needn’t worry, Liv. This is a part of you and doesn’t change how I feel about you. Doesn’t change a damn thing.”

I release a heavy breath as the weight of this moment falls from my shoulders. He’s okay with it, but I need to give him more.

His eyes soften as I cover up my leg and sit back on my heels. “Do you wanna talk about what happened?”

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