She folded her arms across her chest. The air pulsed around her as she narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Independence is important to me.’
‘At the cost of intelligence, it seems.’
‘Oh, that’s rich coming from you.’
‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ His blood boiled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this… this everything. Emotions collided inside him, strong and flying at full speed.
‘You won’t live your life because you think it’s your job to take care of every tiny thing for your family. You live in guilt because your father left but you won’t even confront him about it. You’re scared.’
‘I’m not scared.’
‘Yes, you are.’ She jabbed a finger at him.
With her composure out of the window, Chantal let frustration and anger flow out of her unchecked.
‘You won’t let yourself feel anything for anyone outside your family.’
‘Oh, and that’s as bad as dancing at some skanky bar where you’re not safe?’ He shook his head. ‘Yeah—real smart.’
‘Dancing at that bar might seem stupid to you, but I need to make it on my own. I will not let someone else tell me what to do.’ Least of all someone who’s supposed to be a ‘no-strings tension-reliever’.
‘Who would try, Chantal? It’s clear you won’t listen to anyone else. You’re so goddamn bull-headed.’
‘Try looking in a mirror some time.’
In a rush, tears welled up with the force of a tidal wave. She had to get out. Now!
She flew down the stairs to the lower deck and didn’t stop until she reached the kitchen. Her chest heaved, and she was dragging in each breath as though it resisted her with the force of an army. Cheeks burning, she felt the toxic warmth seeping down her neck and closing around her windpipe. She would not have a meltdown in front of him… not again.
The smooth marble bench was cool against her palms. Was he coming after her? And who would sail the boat then? Idiot. Of course he’s not coming after you.
Twisting the kitchen tap with a shaking hand, she bent down to splash some water onto her face before filling a glass. Brodie’s yacht had made her feel free when they’d sailed out of Newcastle that morning, but now… now it was as if the walls were closing in, crushing her, trapping her. She sipped, savouring the sensation of the cold liquid slipping down the back of her throat.
It was time to end things with Brodie. Chantal only ever got mad when she cared—she only ever lost her temper when something important was on the line. Even when Scott had left Weeping Reef she hadn’t been angry… just guilty because it had all ended so suddenly and because of her inability to control herself. But she’d known deep down that Scott wasn’t the man for her.
What did that say about Brodie and the way she was feeling now?
It’s nothing. You had a great time with him, he provided you a nice place to stay, but now it’s back to reality. No more messing around. You’ve got an audition to nail and a job to finish.
When they arrived back at Newcastle, Brodie didn’t materialise on the lower deck. Chantal decided to avoid him by getting ready for her shift. Smoky shadow made her eyes look wide and alluring… a clear gloss played up her natural pout. The make-up gave her something to hide behind—another persona to help her get through the shift. The patrons of the bar saw only the image she wanted them to see, not the real her.
But Brodie had seen the real her. The scared girl with too-high expectations, a faltering career and a predisposition for panic attacks. Appealing stuff.
She bit down on her lip so hard the metallic tang of blood seeped onto her tongue. She couldn’t afford to lose it now. A second audition with the Harbour Dance Company was a sign that she was heading in the right direction. A sign that perhaps everything would turn out the way she wanted it to. Or did she want more than that?
Her packed bags sat by the kitchen bench. How long had she been living out of a bag now? Too long. The rest of her belongings had been stashed at her mother’s place, with a few extra essentials in the back of her car… if it was still in the bar’s car park after all this time.
Oddly, she didn’t care. Numbness had taken over the anger, smoothing down the edges of her emotions until she felt smooth and cold. Closed off… the way she preferred it.
Hoisting her bag over her shoulder, she slipped her feet into a pair of ballet flats and made her way onto the deck. Brodie’s voice floated down from the upper level. He was talking to one of his sisters. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. He had a certain tone for his sisters. Tough, and yet so full of love it made her heart ache. No one spoke to her like that—not even her mother.
Should she bid him a formal goodbye? Thank him for giving her a place to stay? Probably.
Instead she left, heading towards the bar with a hard knot rocking the pit of her stomach. Keep going… one foot in front of the other. You need distance and so does he.
She was doing the right thing. Staying would only be prolonging the inevitable breakdown of their relationship… whatever that was. She didn’t know how to label it.
At some point he’d been a mere acquaintance, a secret crush. Then a friend. Then a friend with benefits… And now?
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing away the persistent thumping at the base of her skull. Dancing tonight would be tough, but she had to get through it. Light was most certainly at the end of the tunnel… so long as she kept Brodie out of her head.
‘What’s wrong, Brodes? You sound upset.’ Lydia’s voice floated through the phone, her concern twisting something sharp in his chest.
‘I’m fine. It’s the sound of relaxation. You know how long it’s been since I took a holiday.’
‘Yeah.’ She laughed. ‘You work too hard. You don’t sound relaxed, though.’
‘It’s nothing.’
‘Swear?’
He gritted his teeth. He’d never sworn on a lie to any one of his sisters and he wasn’t about to start now. Perhaps if he didn’t say anything she’d get bored and move on.
Lydia audibly smirked into the silence. ‘What’s her name?’
Damn. ‘Her name doesn’t matter.’
‘Oh, come on. I don’t get to do the boy thing much—how about a little vicarious living?’
She said it with such calm acceptance that he wanted to hang up the phone and get to her in any way possible. It wasn’t fair that she didn’t have a boyfriend simply because she couldn’t walk. Although with the way Chantal had left him with a permanent imbalance perhaps it was a good thing.
‘Her name is Chantal. She’s a friend.’
‘But
