Second Chance Lane (Brockenridge #2) - Nicola Marsh Page 0,62

reasons but all the rehashing in the world wouldn’t change facts. He had a choice to make: wallow in the past, caught up in regret and retribution, or learn to forgive her and move forwards. It wouldn’t happen overnight, but he wanted to have more friendly moments and not have to watch what he said every second around her for fear of exploding.

‘We need to find a way to make this work,’ she murmured. ‘For Isla’s sake.’

‘Don’t you think I know that?’ Weary to his soul, he rested his forearms on the table. ‘My foul mood isn’t all about you. I spoke to Yanni earlier, told him about Isla and how I’m still avoiding music of any kind. It’s got me in a funk. He thinks I should get professional help too.’

She nodded. ‘Can’t hurt.’

The thought of opening up to a stranger left him cold. But maybe seeking help would be different now? He couldn’t see things changing unless he got a handle on how to deal with the debilitating guilt from the accident and all his bottled-up bitterness against Tash.

‘How is Yanni?’

‘Okay. Him and the rest of the boys are in Melbourne, waiting for me to get my shit together.’ He straightened. ‘He was bloody surprised to discover you were his neighbour.’

‘I bet.’ She managed a rueful chuckle. ‘I can’t believe I’ve lived here for so long and didn’t know he owned this place.’

Curiosity about Isla’s early years prompted him to ask, ‘How long have you lived on Wattle Lane? Since you came back from Melbourne?’

She snorted, but sadness clouded her eyes. ‘Next door isn’t my parents’ house, if that’s what you’re asking. They lived a lot further out of town.’ She made inverted comma signs with her fingers. ‘“Away from the temptations” in town apparently.’

From the few trips he’d made through Brockenridge, the only places where a person could be led astray were the run-down pubs.

‘You didn’t talk about them when we were together. They were super religious?’

She nodded and glanced away. ‘They met in Shepparton through one of those churches that spring up overnight. Got married, bought a cheap block of land here, had me. They taught outback kids online.’ She barked out a harsh laugh. ‘But they saved their special brand of fervent teaching for me. I was the dutiful daughter but I worked my arse off to get good grades to do nursing in Melbourne. So you can imagine their reaction when I returned home pregnant …’

She bit her lip and he scooted his chair around next to hers, unsure whether to hug her or pat her shoulder. Her upbringing was obviously a sore spot and he wished he’d never brought it up. He knew the feeling. It made sense now, why she’d never spoken about where she came from and why she’d accepted his reluctance to do the same.

‘I knew they wouldn’t be happy but I never imagined they’d disown me. They sold up and left town when I was about seven months pregnant.’ She blinked rapidly. ‘I thought after Isla was born they might come around. I didn’t know where they were living so I texted them photos and an invitation to come see her. They changed their mobile numbers.’

He reached for her, unable to bear a moment longer of the pain radiating off her, and hauled her into his arms. She stiffened, tough and unyielding, until he stroked her hair and murmured, ‘It’s okay, Tash.’

The sobs started then and as he held her, gritting his teeth against the urge to bawl with her, he wondered if they’d ever resolve the pain of their pasts and find a way to move forwards, together.

CHAPTER

23

Jane sulked for an hour after Mason left. She muttered under her breath like a crazy woman while she ladled leftovers into containers and stacked them in the fridge, calling him some not-so-nice names he thoroughly deserved for misjudging her. She then overloaded on sugar by cramming the mini chocolate croissants, apple strudel and plaited pastry dusted in cinnamon sugar into her mouth in quick succession. It didn’t help her mood. If anything, with every bite of the delicious flaky pastry, with every burst of perfectly stewed apple and cinnamon on her tongue, she cursed him a little more.

She’d never tasted anything like it. The guy could bake. The buttery, melt-in-the-mouth pastry, the rich, dark chocolate, the tartness of the apple perfectly combined with the sugar and spices … He created magic with an oven and a few ingredients. If she’d