understand. She had one hyped-up crush after another but never stayed with a boy long enough to fall in love.
When he didn’t reply, she elaborated. “I reckon Ellie did you a favor running off. I mean, I don’t really remember her and she may have been really nice, but Ms. Dawes, our sex-ed teacher, says teen marriages are twenty times more likely to end in divorce than other marriages.”
“Is that right?” Frankly, he would have liked the chance to have been in on the decision whatever the outcome of their would-be marriage.
“Uh-huh. Not that that old troll would know,” she giggled. “I don’t reckon anyone’s ever asked her to marry them.”
Flynn let out his breath, thinking Lucy had moved on to other thoughts. Just to make sure, he raised a new topic. “So, how’s school going? Mom said you’re doing well.”
“S’pose so. Doesn’t really matter. For the things I wanna do, I don’t need uni.”
“You’re seventeen, Luce, you have no idea what you want to do.”
“Shut up, Flynn, there you are acting all ancient again. You’re so boring. No wonder Ellie left you.” She gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth.
Flynn’s whole body clenched. He’d never entertained the possibility that Ellie had thought him boring—he still didn’t—but the words hurt more than he cared to admit. She had chosen a showbiz career and life in the city over a partnership on the farm. Her dreams were bigger than rural Western Australia. And him.
“I’m sorry, Flynn. That was out of line.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“And it’s crap, too. No one thinks you’re boring. Jeez, my friends all idolize you and the women in town all drool over you. You could have anyone you want.”
He chuckled at the irony. “Perhaps the three women in my life are enough?”
“Three!” Lucy shrieked. “Who’s the... Ooh, me, Mom and Gran.” She looked disappointed. “I thought I was going to be the first to know something exciting.”
“Yep. You, Mom and Gran.” He reached out and rubbed her head affectionately.
“Hey, don’t mess the hair.” She lifted a hand for protection but smiled nevertheless.
For the rest of the journey, Lucy nattered on about the girls at school, the boy they all craved and their plans for Schoolies Week, which, thankfully, was still six months away. It may have been over a decade since Flynn had partied on Rottnest Island during Schoolies, but he knew things wouldn’t have changed too much. Seventeen-year-old boys had one thing on their mind and one thing only.
“Crap, we’re late,” Lucy said as Flynn pulled into the oval and searched for a place to park. Already the field was bordered with cars, people sitting on hoods, eating pies and drinking soft drinks, waving banners as they waited for the game to start. Stupidly, he scanned the crowds for Ellie—she’d been a faithful supporter of the Hurricanes and never missed a game when she lived here, but of course, things were different now. Even if she were in town, it was unlikely she’d make a game of country football a high priority.
Lucy practically jumped out the car before he’d put the hand brake on, and definitely before he’d taken the keys out of the ignition.
“Come straight back here after the game,” he yelled, pretty certain she didn’t hear him, or at least didn’t want to.
* * *
DURING THE MATCH, Flynn didn’t look at the crowd and tried not to make eye contact with his fellow players. He scored more goals than he had in a while but not enough to give the Hurricanes the victory they’d been missing lately. When it was over, he went to wait for Lucy. He knew his quick departure would provide more fodder for the gossips, but that didn’t make him any more inclined to stay around.
Lucy took her sweet time, though, eventually arriving with a giggling teenage friend on each side. Opening the passenger door, she leaned into the car. “I’m going to Kara’s,” she announced.
Flynn opened his mouth to object—no way was he hanging in town while she had fun with the girls—but she got in first.
“I’ve already called Mom and she’s fine with it. She said I can stay over and she’ll pick me up after church tomorrow.” She stepped back next to her friends.
“Fine.” Flynn’s hand was already poised on the gearstick when pale, delicate fingers—complete with red nails—reached out to hold open the passenger door.
“Hiya, Flynn.”
Flynn fought the urge to shuffle closer to the driver’s door as Lauren Simpson slipped into the passenger seat. It was hard not to ogle her ample cleavage, which was only further accentuated by her tight silver top. Not many got away with such outlandish fashion in Hope Junction, and most simply wore Hurricanes sweaters to the game, but Lauren was stunning and on her it worked. Still, he’d never found her kind of beauty attractive.
She rested one of her perfect hands on his thigh. He tensed, cursing himself for not changing out of his footy shorts.
“You’re not going home, are you, Flynn?” Her singsong voice grated on his nerves.
“Actually...” That’s exactly where he planned on heading. The last thing he wanted to do was socialize right now.
“I understand,” she began, in an annoyingly sympathetic tone, “that today would have been difficult for you. But it’s times like these you need to be around friends. People who care about you, people who understand you.” Her nails drifted a little higher up his thigh. “What do you say? Come to the pub with us?”
He looked past Lauren to see Lucy a few meters away. She was beaming like a loony and holding both thumbs up. Go on, she mouthed at him theatrically.
“Who’s us?” asked Flynn. He didn’t want Lauren getting any ideas.
“Oh, you know, the usual crowd. Rats will be there.”
Rats, nicknamed so because he’d had a rat’s tail haircut since he was in kindergarten. That is, until a few weeks ago when he proposed to Whitney, who refused to accept unless he cut it off. Rats, who just happened to be the best mate Flynn had.
He still didn’t want to go. Pubs hadn’t been real appealing since his father’s accident, when he’d been forced to get his life back on track. But this wasn’t just about the pub. Maybe he should make an appearance and hold his head up high. Show everyone he didn’t need their sympathy, that ten years was a long time. Definitely long enough for him and Ellie to be in the same shire without him losing the plot. Again.
“Do you need a lift, then?” He forced a smile to his lips.
“Sure.” Lauren’s face lit up. She poked her head back out the car for a moment. “Meet you there, girls.”
“Shove over. We can fit,” said a voice from outside.
Flynn leaned forward to wave at Emma and another local chick, Linda.
“I don’t think so.” Lauren
