Page 26 of Indigo

I can’t believe I’m home.

???

An hour later, I sit on the front lawn, mindlessly picking at strands of grass as Pax carries the last box inside. He unpacked both cars alone, scolding me like a child every time I tried to help. I argued for a good while, but eventually gave up and planted my ass here to enjoy the view.

Watching that man carry box after box up those stairs, his biceps bunching with exertion under his black t-shirt as he worked, was no hardship.

I raise my hand to shield my eyes from the sun and turn my head to see if I can spot Mum’s place from my position on the lawn, seeing as it’s only ten houses down, but a large tree in the middle of the footpath obstructs my view. I love that after such a long separation, the two of us are going to be able to pop in and see each other whenever we like.

“Right, I’ve got to duck into the shop for a while. You going to be alright?” Pax asks from the porch, cringing as the wood he stands on groans under his weight. It has seen better days, that's for sure, but it’s nothing a little elbow grease can’t fix.

“She’ll be fine,” a feminine voice calls from behind me.

Paisley.

Pax gives me a wink and heads back inside, and I turn my head to see my friend, standing close behind me, grinning wickedly, her arms crossed, waiting for me to say something.

“Well? You going to get up and give me a hug hello? Or am I just going to stand here awkwardly while you get your shit together?”

I practically leap from the ground, crashing into her as I do and wrapping her in my arms. “It’s good to see you,” I whisper into her hair.

“Been a long time,” she whispers back, squeezing me tighter. After a moment, she pulls back from our embrace and moves her hands to my shoulders. “You grew up, lady,” she says, looking me up and down.

“Says you. Jesus, woman.”

Paisley was always beautiful, but she’s changed since I last saw her. She’s curvier, more tanned, her dark brown hair is longer, wavier, and the caramel highlights she’s had done look amazing.

“So, you going to invite me in? You did summon me to come and help you unpack, after all,” she teases, eyes roaming over my new house with curiosity.

“Yes. Right. Come in, come in,” I say, so damn excited to show her around.

Grabbing her hand, I practically drag her across the grass and up the unstable porch steps.

“Girl, this place looks like it’s going to fall the fuck down,” she says as we walk through the front door and dodge boxes on the living room floor to get to the kitchen.

She’s not wrong. I’m sure a normal person would look at this place and think, ‘oh fuck, why would you want to live here?’ But all I see is potential behind the dirt and dust lining every flat surface.

The house is relatively small for a three-bedroom home, but I don’t need much. The off-white paint is peeling off the walls in some places, but hey, it adds character. The wooden floors may creak under our feet as we step on them, but the amount of natural light pouring in from the bay window in the living room is incredible, and an entire wall in the kitchen is basically glass.

I look around for Pax while Paisley gets straight to work, hauling a box from the floor onto the chipped wooden counter in my kitchen.

Where is he? I watched him walk back inside…

“Pax?” I call out, running my hand along the kitchen counter, admiring the feel, and mentally adding a tin of timber stain to the list of things I need to buy while waiting for a response.

“He probably went next door,” Paisley says, peeling the tape from the cardboard box and rummaging through it. Finding my mugs, which are still wrapped in newspaper, she pulls them out and begins unwrapping them. “Coffee?”

“Next door?” I ask, confused.

“Yeah.” She nods and places each mug in the sink behind her. “There’s a gate out back that connects the two properties.”

I give her a look that tells her I’m still lost.

“Pax and Jagger live next door,” she clarifies.

Sneaky bastard left out that little piece of information.

“Right, He didn’t tell me that,” I say, reaching into the box and joining her in unwrapping all my dinnerware.

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