Page 23 of Not Your Shoe Size

“Kane,” he said with a wry smile.

“Kane.” The word tasted bittersweet. Once upon a time she’d dreamed about calling him that. Now it was just expected. “How are things in the Otways,Kane?”

“Same, same. I’m still surfing the same beaches, White’s in winter and—”

“Point Impossible in summer.”

Mr. Peterson beamed at her. “Good memory.”

Not really.While her young adulthood had more holes than Swiss cheese, Kate was sure she could remember hundreds, if not thousands of inane facts about Mr. Peterson. He had a brother called Simon, chicken was his favourite flavour of chips, he hated pineapple, and he cried when his both his kids were born, even Deidre, which had struck teen Kate as a waste of salt…

Mr. Peterson gave her hand a final pat and settled back into the red leather booth. “So, you said on the way here that you’re seeing someone?”

Kate picked up the brown sugar dispenser and squeezed it tight. “Yeah. Are you still at the garage?”

Mr. Peterson gave her a faux stern look. “Don’t think you’re getting away with saying barely anything about your bloke.”

Kate ducked her head. She’d been hoping to avoid that part, but she didn’t how she could. “His name is Ty. Tyler Henderson.”

Mr. Peterson studied her. “Do you two work together?”

“We used to! How did you know?”

He blew on his knuckles, grinning. “I can’t see you on the apps. You always had to get to know people before you opened up to them.” He glanced at the sugar jar she was clutching like a talisman. “We don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want to, Katie.”

Kate let go of the bowl, feeling like a nerd. “Sorry, it’s all just a bit strange.”

Mr. Peterson nodded. “I can’t believe it’s been almost fifteen years since you rode in the van.”

“I can’t believe the van’s still going!”

“Of course! She’s a tough old bird.”

“Indestructible,” Kate agreed, and realised an amazing opportunity lay in front of her—the chance to thank Mr. Peterson for what he’d done for her like an actual adult. “Hey, thanks for driving me to school, by the way.”

“No problem.”

He hadn’t gotten it. She’d been too insubstantial. Kate drew in a deep breath.

“Thanks for talking with me and being nice to me as well. My teenage years weren’t great—you might have gotten that from my talk with Deidre.”

Mr. Peterson’s easy smile became a little wooden. “I knew she could be difficult; I didn’t know she was picking on you. I’m sorry, Katie. You should have told me about it.”

Then you wouldn’t have seen me as stepmother material.

Smiling a little, Kate shook her head. “It’s all over now, but yeah, I just wanted to thank you. You made me laugh and feel…stuff I needed to feel. So, yeah…”

It was a pretty dogshit ‘thank you,’ but Mr. Peterson beamed at her, the same open smile that once slit her teenage body from stem to stern. “You were always my favourite kid to drive.”

Kate’s insides heated. It was only an echo of the glow she used to get when he complimented her on her reading or new haircut, but it was nice all the same. “Thank you for talking to me and taking what I had to say seriously back then. It meant a lot that you treated me like a grown up.”

Mr. Peterson chuckled. “I defy anyone not to treat you like a grown up. Even when you were thirteen, you sounded thirty-two.”

Kate smiled, feeling a fondness for her younger self that she’d never felt before. She was so separate from that girl, it was like remembering a little sister. “I grew up eventually. Learned to talk like everyone else.”

“You shouldn’t have. You should have stayed just the way you were.”

Kate rolled her eyes at him. “I’m happier now, fitting in.”

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