Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 120230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Hot from the exertion and with dust on my damp hair, but a fraction more certain of my privacy, I nonetheless took my clothes into the bathroom to change. No guarantee it was safe, of course, but all the tile made a hidden door much less likely.
I dressed as fast as I could.
A pair of thick black leggings, over which I threw on a short-sleeved thermal top in the same color and one of my favorite sweaters. Slouchy, falling to midthigh, it was made of fluffy blue yarn and felt like a hug in physical form.
My brother had knitted it for me.
Cable, pro athlete and heartthrob to the masses, was still young enough to be embarrassed about his knitting, but he also loved it too much to consider giving it up. Instead, with a rare few exceptions, he did it in secret, then gifted the items to those he trusted. His most recent project was tiny hats and socks for the premature babies born at our local hospital.
My baby brother had a gorgeous soul.
Smiling, I sat down on the bed and pulled on a pair of tight woolen socks, black with fine green stripes. Another gift from Cable, they were the warmest socks I owned—and I definitely needed them in this place. The staff might’ve cleaned it to a shine, but they could do nothing about the cold.
I frowned.
Would the caretaker think to check on us? But even if he did, how would he get through? His house, along with those of his few neighbors, lay beyond the landslide.
No, we were stuck here until the storm passed.
Dressed, I brushed the dust out of my hair but left it down so it could dry, then stepped out after pulling on my sneakers. I’d take them off if we decided to set up in the living room for most of the day; unlike the dusty wine cellar and passageway, the main areas of the house were spotless and it was more comfortable being shoeless while inside.
I looked in on Kaea once downstairs, saw that he appeared to be resting relatively peacefully. Relieved, I tiptoed past the living room door to enter the kitchen via the separate hallway entrance.
Grace had beaten me down, was stirring something on the stove. “Aaron decided to add old-fashioned oatmeal to the menu,” she said with a smile, “complete with dried fruits and berries. I’m having mine with brown sugar and cinnamon on top.”
A sudden bright burning in my eyes, so sharp and painful that I had to look away.
“Hey.” The clatter of a spoon being put down on a saucer. “What did I say?”
Making myself look at her, I replied past the knot in my throat. “Bea used to have her oatmeal that way.”
“Oh,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry you all lost her. From what Aaron’s told me, she sounds like a woman I’d have loved to have as a friend. The kind who’d get cocktails with me for Sunday brunch, but also be happy to get muddy on a bush adventure.” A slight questioning tone to her words.
“Yes, that was her,” I confirmed. “And she was so happy. She loved making others happy, too.” That was why I had such trouble believing Darcie when it came to Bea’s mental health problems.
“Were you two close?” Grace began to stir the oatmeal again. “You don’t have to tell me if it hurts.”
“No, it’s good to talk about her.” The pain inside smothered by a wave of remembered love, I said, “The thing with Bea was that we all thought we were her best friend. She was good about that, about letting everyone believe that they were her favorite.”
It could’ve come across as manipulative or facetious, but the interest had been genuine on her part. She’d had so much love inside her, been ferocious about sharing it. And I’d never minded; I’d known my place in Bea’s life and that it was one no one else would, or could, ever occupy—not even Ash when they married.
“She was the center of our group,” I said, because it was the truth. “The one that organized the picnics and the nights clubbing, and who kept the group chat alive. Afterward . . . we drifted, like unmoored buoys on the ocean.”
At first, I’d put the increasing distance between us down to graduating uni and going our separate ways into adult lives, but it was more than that. Our friendship had died with Bea, fracturing from that point outward until, now, we were casual acquaintances held together by the memories of the past.
A rare few bonds between individuals had held—mine with Vansi, Kaea’s with Ash—but the group? We called ourselves friends, but we were more the ghosts of friends past.
“I hope we’ll drift together.” Grace’s smile was shy. “I feel like the new kid in primary school saying this, but do you think we could be friends?”