Page 10 of Sparks Fly

“Thanks,” Jordan says, with a tight smile. Ronnie squeezes his hand. He slides his gaze to me, and I glare into my glass of wine to avoid the pity in his eyes. “They’re good.”

“You must miss him, Ivy,” Sam says with a laugh. “I remember the two of you were inseparable–always getting up to some sort of mischief with my boy.” He scruffs Harley’s hair affectionately.

“Mmhmm.” I force a smile and push my food around my plate, my appetite suddenly gone.

“You know,” Sam continues. “I always hoped you might fall for Harley here. He had the biggest crush on you when you were younger.”

My eyes go wide and heat creeps under my collar. Harley chokes on his beer, spitting it all over himself. “Dad!”

“Um…” What do I even say to that? Harley and I have always been friends, but that’s it. I shoot a panicked look at Harley to save me, but his face pales as the back door slides open again. Harley mutters a curse under his breath. I follow his gaze to find Ellie stepping into the backyard.

Sam looks up, brow furrowing. “Is that Bill Foster’s girl? What’s she doing here?”

Harley runs a hand over his face. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Like hell she is,” Sam growls, narrowing his eyes. “After what her brother did to Tom?”

“Exactly Dad. That was Conrad, not Ellie. Be nice,” he warns as he gets up to meet her.

Can today get any more awkward?

Ellie smiles sweetly at me, taking the vacant seat between me and Harley. “Merry Christmas, Ivy.”

I squirm in my seat as memories of her brother railing me from behind flash through my mind. “Merry Christmas,” I manage to choke out. I reachfor my drink and only succeed in knocking it over, spilling wine all over the table. “Shit!” I jump up, grabbing some napkins.

Wren gives me an odd look as she helps me clean up the mess, but I choose to ignore it. I snatch the clump of wet napkins from her and head over to the bin. Conversation around the table resumes as if nothing happened and while everyone is distracted, I slip inside to wash my hands.

When I enter the kitchen, Tom’s standing at the bench with a large glass of whiskey sitting in front of him, staring out of the window at our friends and family. Guilt washes over me. I cross my arms protectively. Somehow, I feel as if I’m walking around with a flashing neon sign saying “I fucked Conrad Foster.” I expect Tom to call me out on it–though there’s no way he’d ever know.

Instead, he lets out a deep sigh and picks up his drink.

“Care to share?” I ask, walking over and nudging him with my hip. With Brady and Harley being close growing up, having Tom around was just like having another brother. I half expect him to give me a lecture on day-drinking, but to my surprise he slides the bottle to me. I grab a glass from the sink, eager to drown out the noise in my head.

“He’s back,” Tom says quietly with a shake of his head. He brings his glass to his lips and swallows its contents in one gulp.

“That’s a bad thing?” I ask as I pour some for myself.

Tom stares down at his empty glass. “When I got out, things between us weren’t great. I found out… well, it doesn’t matter what I found out. And then Mum died, and he went away. There were a lot of hurtful things said by both of us, and probably a lot of things left unsaid.”

My chest tightens as my thoughts drift to Conrad. He’s the reason Tom ended up in prison, but ever since the night we shared, I can’t seem to get him out of my head. “I’m really sorry, Tom,” I say, not entirely sure what I’m apologising for.

Tom sighs. “I fucked up, but so did he. We have no one to blame except ourselves. I just hope we can put everything behind us without anyone else ending up as collateral damage.”

I scrunch up my nose in confusion. “Wait. Collateral damage? What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Tom replies–a little too quickly. “Forget I said that. The point is: everyone needs to just move on from the past. We’ll all be better off.”

Move on.

I feel like screaming into the ether. These two little words keep taunting me. Wren had to move on from what happened to her. Ronnie has to move on from her worst nightmare. I’m expected to move on from Lachy. Now, Tom and his dad need to figure out how to move on from… whatever happened two years ago.

Life is fucked.

Tom refills his glass and raises it to me. “Here’s to fucking moving on.” I clink our glasses together, wincing as the whiskey burns on its way down.

My phone chimes and I pull it out of my pocket. My stomach lurches.

Lachy: Merry Christmas, Ives. I know things are not good between us but you’re sti…

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