Cocky Notes - Leesa Bow Page 0,36

think we need to talk when I get home. And if I’m being honest, I don’t want to stop seeing him. God, I’m conflicted. Seriously, who in their right mind would want to be with me?

I make my way outside to find Chance among more paintings and, well, there’s no other way to describe it other than a wall of junk—arty junk assembled in a way to look creative and tell a story. Chance slowly pads the length of the wall taking in every detail, mesmerised by it all.

“It’s cool.” I smile at him and wave at my face because the flies are worse out here than in the town centre.

He nods at me and offers a half-smile, minus the dimples.

“Are you okay?”

He nods and slaps at the air. “Love this stuff. Making art out of junk. It challenges you to find purpose with bits people discard and think useless. One person’s junk is another one’s treasure.” He keeps walking the wall. “John said I can take some remnants back with me. I love what he’s done here.”

“Yet, you’re not really smiling.”

He glances at me, rubs the back of his neck, and looks over to his sister giggling with Zane. “Dad is being admitted to the hospital next week. He’s jaundiced and not sure why. Needs more tests on his liver.”

“I hope everything is okay.”

“Mum says he’ll be fine, but I’m not saying anything to Adele until we’re on the plane.”

I nod. “I’m sure your mother is right. But I understand your concern until you get the results.”

“You done yet?” Zane calls out to Chance.

Chance and I head out to the side, and I pick up large rusted bolts and screws while he carries a clump of iron and something else I have no idea what. We throw it in the back of Zane’s car and head back into town.

After loading our bags in the rental car, I thank Zane and climb into the back seat. Chance and Adele take a moment longer to say goodbye, and then Adele kisses Zane, wrapping her arms around his neck and deepening the kiss.

Shit.

I can’t see Chance’s expression, but I can’t imagine he’s pleased, and expect him to say something to Adele when in the car.

“I’ll miss you,” Adele tells Zane before she shuts the door.

“Get me tickets to a game,” Zane yells out to Chance. “I’ll be there after Christmas.”

“Send me dates. I’ll see what I can do.”

The first five minutes of the trip are in silence. When we reach the hills and spy the goats, I finally see Chance smile.

Settling into the back seat, I open my phone.

SOS only.

I have plenty of time to think about what to text Reef.

We hit level ground, and I settle into the cushioned seat. The long, straight road hazes over in the distance tricking the eye to thinking it’s a never-ending journey. Looking out to the open road, I realise my life without a relationship is like this—safe and in one direction—a journey without curves lacking surprise or excitement for what’s around the bend.

Facing life with family you love where we support each other offers security to get me through tough times. I can’t rely on pure love and the safety net of caring for my father because even he is showing me what I feared to embrace. Dad has always jumped in the deep end. From accounts of his time with Mum, it’s what attracted her to him. Dad is fearless. He gave me no warning about Bernadette. It rocked me, and on top of what went down with Reef, it gave me the motivation to take this road trip. And I found adventure with people I barely know.

I have to believe in myself. Take a risk. Search outside my comfort zone. Like Chance, find happiness in small things. Find my own form of scrap metal to transform junk into joy. Because if Dad all of a sudden decides he doesn’t need me, I’ll be left with nothing but an empty heart.

I remember the day Mum left. Remember how it tore out my heart, and after seeing Reef with other girls, I allowed the same cruel emotion to swamp me. The feeling of being inconsequential to someone important to me.

Disposable.

Dad has never thought of me as insignificant. But I know I’m replaceable not as his daughter but by the help I give to make his life easier and safe.

Safe.

Shit, is Dad trapped living with me?

The more I think, the more I believe I’m imprisoned