Slow Grind (Men of Mornington Book 1) (4 page)

Sitting down on my bed, I reach for my phone. My heart thumps as I scroll to my brother’s name in my contacts and press call. For the few seconds I spend waiting for him to answer, I find myself praying it isn’t as bad as I think it is. I’m not religious at all, but right now I’m willing to try anything.

“Aubs, hey.”

Max’s voice travels down the line and warms my heart. Fresh tears well in my eyes as a new surge of anger races through me.

“How could you not tell me?” I ask. I’m hurt he could keep this from me. I thought we shared everything.

“Because I needed you to stay focused on your exams. They’re important.”

“
You’re
important,” I retort.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, Aubs. I thought I was doing the right thing. If it’s any consolation, I’m looking forward to seeing you.” I can tell by his voice he’s conflicted. He never wants to worry me, blaming his cancer the first go ‘round for making me somewhat jaded. I’ve tried to tell him he isn’t the reason for the hostility I hold in my heart, but he’s one of those people who takes everything on themselves. He’s kind of exactly like me. Or I’m like him. We’re the same.

“Me, too,” I admit, smiling. “Promise you won’t keep anything else from me?”

“I promise. See you soon, sis.”

*****

“What do you mean you’re going to Australia?” Nate asks. I wish I could just tell him it’s none of his business and to let it be, but I know he’s way more into me than I’m into him. Just last week, I overheard him tell his mom that I’m his girlfriend. I know we need to talk, but it’s a conversation I’m really not looking forward to having. I owe Nate a lot, and I really don’t want to hurt his feelings.

“My brother. He’s sick again, and he needs me.”

“Finals are in a few weeks,” Nate argues. “You’re literally a few tests away from graduating and you’re going to throw it away.”

“Throw it away?” I stare at him, shocked at his attitude. “Are you fucking kidding me, Nate? My brother trumps exams. My brother trumps a degree. My brother trumps
everything
.”

“I didn’t mean it that way and you know it, Aubrey.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just scared.” I sit forward and cradle my head in my hands, flinching when Nate puts his arms around me. “I told you about Max being sick when he was younger. Well, the cancer’s back, and he’s not doing too well. He’d fly around the world for me, so I’m doing the same for him. My dad talked to the Dean and they’re letting me finish online. So it’s not that different, really. I just won’t walk with you guys.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“Nate,” I softly sigh.
I can’t do this anymore
.

He should be everything I want, but he’s not. He’s a wonderful guy who helped me through some hard times. He was there for me when nobody else was. Captain of the lacrosse team and Honor’s Society, he’s pretty much everything any girl could want. And he wants me. Sometimes I wish I felt the same way, but I don’t. Max’s recent diagnosis is enough to remind me life is too short, and I have too much value to settle for like instead of love.

“I don’t want you to come,” I whisper.

“Okay,” he mutters. He looks away, and it’s obvious I’ve hurt his feelings. Although I feel bad, it spurs me on to just get this over with.

“Listen,” I begin. I take a deep breath and gather the strength to finish what I need to say. “I’ll be in Australia, you’ll be here. I have no idea how long I’ll be gone or what life’s going to look like for me when I come back. We had a really good time this year, but I think it’s time to walk away from whatever we have before it gets messy.”
There. That wasn’t so hard.
I’m already feeling better, but then I see his bewildered expression.

“Whatever we have?” he sputters. “Aubrey, you’re joking, right? I love you.”

A part of me wants to tell him I love him back because it would be so much easier if I did. But I’ve been on the other side of a one-sided love affair, where one person ends up destroyed because the other half doesn’t share the same feelings.

“I really like you, Nate. You’re a great guy, but I don’t feel the same way about you. You were there for me after Jason, and I’ll never regret getting close to you. You made me feel safe again.” Truth is, without Nate, I’m not sure if I would have been able to get over what Jason did to me.  I’d dealt with assholes my whole life, but never abusive ones.  I take his hand, wishing I felt everything he wanted me to. I’m leaving the country, and he’s the last person I’m worried about missing. Hell, I’m more upset about leaving
Jacey
behind. “Right now, I need to focus on my brother. You’re going to find a wonderful girl who will love you the way you deserve. I’m just not her.” I shrug, wishing there was more I could do. “I’m sorry.”

“Damn, Aubrey, you really know how to kill a guy’s ego.” He laughs nervously, trying to joke away the pain I’ve just caused. “I’ll give you a few weeks in Australia to change your mind. And you will. You’ll see. When you start missing me, you’ll realize we’re meant for each other. I’ll wait for you.”

“You really shouldn’t.” I’m not sure how I could have been clearer about wanting to break up with him. “Honestly, you’re a great guy, but I just don’t feel the way you do.”

“I’ll leave you to pack then. Call me if you need me. I’m always here for you, Aubs.”

Nate kisses me on the forehead and walks out of my dorm room, and I go back to neatly putting all my clothes in my suitcase. He’s such a nice guy, but I still don’t know if he’s gotten the message. He was way too relaxed for someone who had just been dumped.

I don’t have time to worry about this
.

My flight leaves in the morning and I still have so much to sort out. Jacey, my roommate and best friend, is going to keep my goldfish Louie and what little bit of furniture we’re allowed to keep in the dorms. My dad is going to pick up everything else and store it in his basement, where I’ll probably live when I return as a college graduate and unemployed dancer. Sighing, I push my suitcase closed and sit on the floor. I look around, an empty feeling creeping into my stomach.

I never thought I’d be going back to Australia, especially under these circumstances.

As I finish packing an overnight bag to take on board the plane with me, Jacey comes strolling into the room with a gloomy look on her face. She dives on my bed, her blue eyes sad.

“Can you pack me and take me with you?”

“I wish,” I sigh. I never really made any lasting friends in junior high or high school. For the longest time, I was just the new girl with the funny Australian accent. By the time I got to college, my accent only came out when I was upset and I got the fresh start I’d been looking for. I finally felt like I belonged somewhere.

The college paired me with Jacey our freshman year and we both happened to be dance majors, which helped tremendously when it came to practicing choreography and studying for the same general ed credits we had to complete. She was no Emma, but she was as close as it got. Within only a few weeks, we were inseparable. She and Nate are the only two people who know what happened and how Jason scarred me.

“You’re coming back, though, right?” she asks, her wide eyes sparkling. “Don’t forget we have plans. Find a company who wants two extraordinary dancers, get a loft in Manhattan and find sexy businessmen who want to throw away all their extra money on said dancers.”

“I won’t forget,” I laugh, remembering the drunken night we came up with that ridiculous plan.
Trust Jacey to hold me to it.
“But if you meet a sexy businessman while I’m away, I won’t yell at you for pouncing on him.”

“You’ll call me every day?”

“I’ll
message
you every day,” I correct her. “Those phone calls cost an arm and a leg. More than tuition, probably.”

“Have you never heard of Skype?” she scoffs. She stares at me, her bottom lip trembling. “I’m gonna miss you, Aubs.”

“Don’t start crying on me, Jacey.” I throw my arms around her. “You cry, I cry, then we’re just a shit show in a dorm room. Toughen up. You can always come and visit, you know. My brother has his own place. It’ll be fun.”

“I just might do that over summer break,” she says, brightening up. “I need a little vacation before I have to join the real world and be a productive, tax-paying member of society.”

“Door’s always open for you, buttercup.”

*****

At four o’clock Sunday morning, my dad sends me a text that he’s downstairs waiting for me. Grabbing the handle of my suitcase, I push it out the door, leaving my key on the table. I turn the lock on the handle, and after taking one last look around, I push back the tears as I walk down the empty hallway. I thought there’d be more time here. A few weeks doesn’t seem like a lot, but when it’s taken from you without notice, it’s scary. I’m leaving an undergrad and coming back to nothing. No dorm with my best friend, no shared showers, no classes to rush to when you wake up late. When I get back, I will have to adult, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.
Grow up, Aubrey.
My stupid life should be the last thing on my mind right now.

Max needs me, and that’s all that matters.

Chapter Three
Drew

“Drew, you’ve been on that thing for the last hour. It’s a five-minute job. You’re welding two bits of metal together, not performing lifesaving surgery. You doing alright?”

I lift up my shield and wince. My boss, Wayne, hovers over me, a concerned expression on his face. I struggle to my feet and switch off the welding machine.

“Yeah, sorry, man,” I say, wiping the thick film of sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand and drying my hand on my coveralls. I step back to examine my job. It might’ve taken me half the fucking day, but you can barely see the joint because it’s soldered together so tight.

“You sick or something?” he asks. His eyes dart around awkwardly, looking anywhere but at me. I swallow a laugh. Wayne is a great boss, but he’s a real man’s man. He doesn’t handle emotion or feelings or anything like that. Footy and beer is as far as our conversations travel, and I’m fine with that. I’m not a real open guy myself, and I have my friends to give me shit and listen to me complain about the merits of the privileged life we had before we grew up and had to make a living of our own.

“I’m fine. Just got some bad news about a friend.”

“Anyone I know?” he asks with interest. I hesitate, not sure how open Max is being about his illness.

Being from a small town, Wayne knows many of the same people I do. While they can be a great support, they can also be the nosiest shits in the world. Though I live close to the city, the workshop where I work as a welder is in Mornington, where I grew up. It’s a fifty-minute commute each way, but honestly, I love it. The drive down the coast every day to get to work gives me time to think. And if I ever can’t be bothered with the drive home, I’ve got Mum’s place just around the corner.

“Max,” I finally say. “Cancer. I can’t get it off my mind, you know?”

“Wow. Shit, hey.” I can almost see the internal struggle poor Wayne is having trying to react. What kind of response can you really have, though? When Max was sick before, I questioned it the same way. Do you say you’re sorry? If so, what do you have to be sorry for? Sorry for the shit circumstance life hurls at you when least expect it? That’s what I think of when people say they’re sorry. Lucky for me, Wayne is a really good guy and keeps it super simple. “If you need anything, I’m here. Days off, whatever. Just ask.”

“Thanks, Wayne. You’re a stand-up guy. Without you feeling like I’m taking advantage, would you mind if I shot out of here early today? My head’s just not in it, and that’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Absolutely. I’ve known you boys since you were in grammar school. You and that group of mates you had were always causing some kind of trouble. Just make sure to clock out and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Doing as he asks, I mark my time out for the day and waste no time heading straight for my car. As much as I need the hours to pay off stupid debt I accumulated in my early twenties, I need to let this settle in for a second. Last time with Max, it was scary, but not as scary as it is now. As a teenager, learning about mortality and how quickly someone can be taken off this Earth for absolutely no reason is terrifying. To have to suffer through it again, knowing it could all end in a blink of an eye … there isn’t even a word to describe the feeling.

Instead of heading to my apartment, the overwhelming feeling of wanting to be with my own family overcomes me. My mother is amazing, as is my dad, though I don’t see him much anymore—our work schedules don’t seem to mesh. I work days and he works nights—always has and probably always will—and living so far away doesn’t help. My parents divorced when I was pretty you.  Though, for the life of me, I can’t understand why they separated. They probably spend just as much time together now as they did then. They told Em and me they weren’t in love anymore. Fair enough. The last thing I’d have wanted would be for them to have stayed together for our sake and been miserable because of it. Everyone deserves a shot at happiness, especially my parents, who are great people, just obviously not meant to live out their wedding vows.

That’s probably the reason I don’t think love is a real thing. If they couldn’t make it work, it’s doubtful anyone could. Add to the mix the one time I did put my heart out there and it got smashed into pieces … what’s the point in setting yourself up to be hurt? Give me no-strings fun any day of the week.

Getting out of the car and walking up the footpath, I look up at the house I grew up in with pride. My childhood might not have been great with everything Max went through. My parents might not have been home much in order to provide for us kids, but we had everything we ever needed and more. After they split, it’s like they tried to make up for it by showering us with material things. Maybe if they’d spent a little less time working, and more time on their marriage, they’d still be together. Who knows? Either way, the mud-brick house with the red shutters and matching front door will always be where home truly is, no matter where I find myself in life.

“Mum?” I holler, letting myself inside after knocking loudly on the glass-paned door. In the faint distance I can hear music, and as I make my way down the hall, I recognise it as Tom Jones. I call out again as I round the corner into the lounge room.

“Fuck,” I growl, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to get the image of my half-naked parents making out on the couch out of my head. “Jesus, guys, get a fucking room.”

“Last time I checked, we have a house. One that our last child moved out of last week,” my father grumbles, buttoning his shirt as Mum fumbles to tidy up herself. At least she has the decency to blush.

“Last time
I
checked, you guys were divorced,” I mutter. “And last time
I
checked, this was Mum’s house not yours.” I direct the last comment at my dad, who just laughs, whacking me over the head as he walks into the kitchen.

I wish I could say this is the worst I’ve seen, but unfortunately, it’s not. My parents have never been shy in displaying their affections toward each other, and in my younger years I saw some shit that has scarred me for life. Why they couldn’t stay married is beyond me, but this latest episode is going to cost me another year in therapy. I should start sending them the invoice.

“I’m sorry, Andrew, I didn’t realise I’d be seeing you today,” Mum says, rushing over for a hug. I smirk.

Obviously. I give them shit, but it’s pretty cool that after all these years they’re still into each other. I always wondered if they tried seeing other people after the divorce but decided they liked each other more than they would anyone else, just not enough to get remarried. Or maybe being married just wasn’t in the cards for them. I’m pretty sure I take after them in that aspect. As much as I don’t believe in love, I’d never rule out the idea of coming home to the same chick, but actually getting married? Giving a woman my last name? Having her carry my child and being linked to her for eternity? I’m not sure that’s in the cards for me. Something about having to hire a solicitor to break up with someone rubs me the wrong way.

“Can you stay for dinner?” Mum asks as she walks through and into the kitchen. I follow, the aroma of her famous coq a vin floating through the air. It’s not family dinner day, but I’d be an idiot to pass up a home cooked meal.

“You know me, I’d never knock back a free meal, especially from the best cook I know,” I tease. Mum laughs and throws a tea towel at me.

“Good. Your sister is coming over, too.”

I grab a beer from the fridge and park myself on a stool on the other side of the counter and watch Mum peel potatoes. Em and I have a great relationship. She’s a fiery little thing with loads of spark, so I love giving her shit, and she gives it back to me just as hard. But at the end of the day, I’d do anything for her and she knows it.

I take a sip of my can, swishing it around my mouth before I swallow. Anxiety stabs at my stomach as I remember why I’m here.

“Max is sick,” I blurt out, cutting to the chase. Something about being in this house brings out the honesty in me. It’s almost as if I check the bullshit at the door when I enter.

Mum, standing at the sink, stiffens. She looks up at me, her blue eyes—identical to mine—full of concern. I don’t think she has to hear the full story to know it’s bad. I’m sure it’s written all over my face.

Mum has been there for Max more than his own mother has. During his parents’ divorce, he spent a lot of time staying with us while his parents fought, the same as me spending the majority of my free time at his place while my parents were working out their own separation. It was a fucking mess, and I know being able to escape over to my house is what got him through it. It’s also probably why we’re so close; having experienced our individual struggles together. We’ve always had each other’s backs and this time, with this illness, it’s going to be no different.

“What is it?” she asks, her voice unusually high pitched. I can see in the way she’s picked up the pace of potato peeling, she already knows but needs to hear it from me.

“Hodgkin’s Lymphoma … again,” I mutter, the words sticking in my throat. Fuck. How can Max, of all people, be dying? Because that’s what’s happening here. We can pussyfoot around the truth as much as we like, but it doesn’t change the fact my best mate is dying. His body is giving out on him and we can’t stop it.

“Oh, poor Max,” Mum whispers, tears filling her eyes. Just then, Dad walks in. Sidling up to Mum, he wraps his arms around her shoulders and kisses her head. “Isn’t that what he had before?” she asks.

I nod. “How fucking unlucky do you have to be to get the same kind of cancer twice?”

Typically, she calls me on my foul language the second it leaves my mouth, but this time she lets it slide without even a sideways glance. That’s how I know this is really affecting her.

“Is he going to be okay? He’ll have chemotherapy, or whatever they’re doing these days, and be fine, right?” She’s thinking the same thing I did when I first found out. He beat it once, he can do it again.

“It’s pretty advanced,” I say quietly. “There’s not much left they can do. They’ve already done two rounds and are just starting the third, but optimism is gone. The doctors don’t think it’ll work, but they’re giving it a final go.”

“There’s always something,” Mum argues. She slams her fists down on the counter. “That poor kid. He’s already been through so much.”

“Mum…” I want to ease her sadness, but there’s not much I can do to help. She loves Max, and she’s going through the same thing the rest of us are.

“Anyone home?” I perk up at the sound of Em’s voice. She rounds the corner, joining us in the kitchen, her eyes lighting up when she sees me.

“I thought that was your car,” she exclaims, throwing herself into my arms. I chuckle and hug her back, nearly crushing her tiny frame. I’d just upgraded my ute the week before and Em had only seen it once.

Looking at the two of us, you’d swear we’re not related. I’m tall and well-built, with a thick mop of dark curls—which I keep cut pretty short or it gets out of control—and light blue eyes, both which I get from Mum. Em is short, even shorter than Mum, who stands at barely five feet. She also has gorgeous blonde hair that is currently shaved on one side and dyed bright blue. Which I guess matches her icy blue eyes, the only thing that gives a clue we’re related in any way, other than the shit-eating grin we both have perfected over the years.

“What’s this?” I ask, flicking her newly-pierced lip. She already has more holes in her than a crumpet.

“It’s a new car. Isn’t it great? The horsepower is unbelievable,” she responds and catches me off guard, as I don’t catch the sarcasm right away.

“What? Are you high?” I bark, glaring at her.

“No, you dickwad.” She rolls her eyes at me. “It’s a lip ring, which I thought was pretty obvious, seeing as it’s a
ring
through my
lip
. Don’t ask dumb questions.”

“Stop putting random holes in your body,” I retort, mimicking her tone.

“Stop acting like you’re somebody’s father, Andrew. I already have one of those.” She quickly jabs me in the stomach, running around the kitchen island bench so I can’t catch her, and tosses me a wink.

“Why are you here, anyway?” she asks.

“Max is sick,” I mumble.

“No way,” Em mutters, and the happy mood quickly shifts.

“Cancer again?” she asks. I nod grimly. She dumps her plate on the table and flops into a chair, dragging her foot up under her. I spot ink on her ankle and reach over, yanking the cuff of her leggings up. “Do you mind?” she asks, laughing.

“Really, Em? A fucking tat?” I growl. She glances over at Mum to make sure she didn’t hear—because Mum would
kill
her—and then glares at me.

“So I got a tiny tattoo,” she hisses. “I’m an adult, in case you don’t remember. I don’t need to ask your permission for anything, Drew.”

I know she’s right, but she’s still my little sister, and I don’t want her covered in ink. As stupid as it sounds, I don’t want her doing anything she might regret later. A tat isn’t like sticking a needle through your lip. Once you get it, you’re stuck with it.

“Can we get back on the subject of Max?” Em asks. She sighs, shaking her head. “I can’t believe he’s got to go through all that again. I guess once you’ve had cancer, you never really escape it.”