Page 44 of More Than I Can Bear

“And Adam Farrelly’s mystery woman seems to have been found,” the newsreader said, raising one eyebrow. A familiar looking shoe came up on screen. “Some viewers let us know that a local artist sells these shoes at Gillies on the Ground, a local market for makers and creators alike. These colourful creations belong to a young woman called Freya North.”

The newsreader’s gaze intensified as she stared through the screen.

“After Farrelly’s impassioned, if inscrutable apology earlier today, we’re all wondering: what did the current Magarey Medal winner do to warrant such a public declaration?”

But I wasn’t paying attention to her or the scuttlebutt being discussed, passing as news of the day. It was the pictures in the background of her art, Freya’s art. Goblincore. I saw that much, then dragged out my phone to do an image search and there it was.

My lips quirked at what I saw. Strange little creatures that seemed to emerge from holes, scuttling across the sides of shoes, ones that possessed this strange kind of feeling of being alive, despite being quite cartoonish in style.

“Where’s that credit card of yours, big shot footballer?” I asked my brother, staring at the screen.

“What for…?” He peered at the screen. “Is that her work? Freya’s work?” He sucked in a breath. “Fuck, that’s amazing. What the fuck is she doing working at a cafe if she can do that?”

I stared at him then. “The same thing you’re doing, working on site on the off-season: making money any way you can. Talent doesn’t always equal dollars, you know that.”

“But what if she didn’t have to?” Adam was starting to catch on, jerking out his wallet and chucking his credit card my way. “What if she could just make art all day, every day?”

“At least tomorrow,” I amended, “until we’ve got this shit sorted.” I rang River back then, and when he answered, he looked pissed.

“What? They’re fine—”

“I’m going to send you some pictures,” I said, “and I need you to tell me what kinds of art supplies were used to make them and where I can get them shipped from, express delivery.”

“For Freya?” he asked, suddenly wary.

“For Freya.”

Chapter23

Freya

I was dying.

The sun had come to the end of its lifetime and it was determined to take me with it, burning through the thin fucking curtains and straight into my eyeballs.

“Freya.” I groaned at the sound of my name. “Frey Frey…”

I wanted to tell whoever that was to fuck right off, but I had a mouthful of pillow and it was stuck to my face with super glue. Actually make that my spit. A groan escaped me as I pulled it free and lifted my head to see Jack standing there. The bitch didn’t have a right to look that put together at this hour, not after the night we’d had.

“What. The. Fuck…?”

“I gotta go,” she said. “I’ve got a meeting with the club bigwigs and… PR disasters wait for no woman. I’m just gonna slip out and grab my car, then leg it home and make myself more presentable, but…” She dropped down onto the bed and it felt like it lurched along with my stomach. “These are the keys.”

“To what?”

I blinked and blinked, trying to make my surroundings come into focus.

“Kaine’s penthouse apartment.”

“Kaine?” I scrambled into a seated position and instantly regretted it. The whole world spun and my guts felt sour, sloshing around inside me, threatening to explode.

“He’s not here, but…” She smiled. “You’ll see when you get up. I’ll be by as soon as I finish work, see how you’re going, but you stay here until I can sort shit out.”

“Stay here,” I agreed, sinking back down onto the bed. But as I did so, the siren smell of bacon and eggs cooking wafted through the doorway. “Did you make me breakfast?”

“Someone is,” she said with an impish smile, “but it’s not me. Look after yourself and stay here for the day. We’ll work this out.”

Which meant I could’ve gone back to bed. I was exhausted, my body having that heavy, leaden feeling, but I felt nauseous and hungry at the same time. I rolled out of bed, clutching a blanket around me, shuffling like an old woman to follow the tantalising aroma of bacon.

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