Out Of Place (Face the Music Book 2) Read online

  He ordered a big breakfast despite home being only half an hour away. Fuck it. He was going to enjoy today and stop counting the cents in his bank account. If he really wanted he had enough to buy a new car, a really cheap one that wouldn’t fit his surfboard or any guitars and amps. He wasn’t totally broke.

  However, he chose not to because he didn’t know when his next pay cheque was coming or how big it would be. It was the same reason he lived at home. He didn’t want rent to bite him on the ass. Plus he was hardly at home.

  With a newspaper and table number in hand he ran the pram gauntlet, dodged a few toys that had been thrown overboard and also what he hoped was cake now splattered on the floor. He pitied the waitresses who had to clean up after this lot was gone, but he doubted these women would spare a moment to consider the mess.

  The table in the corner was still free and he slid into it, glad to be out of the way and yet part of the good vibe.

  Breakfast at Cottesloe after a morning of surfing. Life was good.

  And if he repeated that a few more times he might be able to shut out the rather noisy panic that nothing was happening, or happening fast enough.

  The woman at the table next to him glanced over before going back to reading her book. She didn’t have the haughty sneer, nor did she give him the glare for daring to sit near her. He smiled, but didn’t say anything.

  He glanced at her again as he opened up the paper. She was pretty. Long blonde hair caught up in a messy bun. And an ability to tune out all the noise around her so she could read. In fact, she seemed completely unbothered by everything going on around her.

  Was her life so completely perfect that she had nothing to worry about…or was she hiding in the book because she didn’t want to be found?

  Either way, he didn’t want to disturb her to find out.

  He was about to look away when she lifted her coffee cup; her ring glinted in the light. Good thing he hadn’t interrupted her.

  His coffee and breakfast arrived as she finished off. He couldn’t help but notice as she spoke to the staff and shared a joke. She was obviously a regular and well liked. As he ate, the mothers departed and he got to hear the grumblings of the waitress left to clean up. Then he had the café almost to himself. He flicked to the sports section as he finished off what was left of his potato rostis—fancy hash browns in his book—and bacon. He didn’t care that he was full; he was going to eat everything on the plate because he’d paid for it.

  He ordered a second coffee to wash it all down.

  Then, after enjoying his extravagant and late breakfast, he leaned back in his chair to give his stomach room to digest. With no one to block his view he watched the surf and the guys using it. If he was lucky, that would be him one day. He tried to imagine himself in forty years’ time at retirement age and drew a complete blank.

  Very few bands lasted forty years. Selling the Sun had to get in and get rich while they were young. After that? Well, he had his arts degree, and he was sure that was good for something besides keeping his father off his back.

  Just like that, the sparkle had gone out of his day. No matter how blue the water or bright the sun, he couldn’t shake the need to be doing something. Anything.

  He glanced at the vacant table next to him. She had been calm and quiet and content. Why couldn’t he find some of that?

  Chapter 2

  Olivia was sure that Julie had picked the most unflattering dresses she could to make sure she wasn’t upstaged. Her sister had been that way her whole life. Maybe if the dress hadn’t been orange or off the shoulder. Olivia gave the neckline a tug but there was no hiding the shiny pink scar that went over her shoulder and down the inside of her right arm.

  At least it wasn’t red and angry looking anymore, but it clashed with the dress.

  “You can cover that with makeup, right?” Julie narrowed her eyes as she inspected her sister.

  “I have no idea. I’ve never tried.” Nor had she ever felt the need to. If she wanted to hide the scar, she chose clothes that covered it.

  “I don’t want it in my photos.”

  Olivia did her best not to roll her eyes and to keep her voice calm and soft. Starting an argument with Julie would make this harder. And to be fair, orange had always been Julie’s favourite colour. It wasn’t her sister’s fault that it didn’t suit her. “It’s only a scar.”

  Two years ago those words would’ve never left her mouth. A year ago they’d have been too hard to say—especially when she’d realised firsthand how off-putting they were to guys. Since then she’d kept her ring on to keep them away. It was safer for everyone.

  Julie pulled a face. “At least the other one is barely visible.”

  Olivia turned away and pretended to study her reflection with the same concern Julie was showing. The other scar was mostly hidden by her hair and a little makeup. If someone looked closely they’d realise that not all of her right eyebrow was real and was actually clever pencil work.

  “You could’ve picked different dresses if you were really worried about the scar.” Something in a softer colour? Perhaps something less…just less. But then she’d never been a lace and frills girl. Julie had been pink this and orange that all through their childhood like she lived in some kind of glorious sunrise.

  “I’m not planning my day around you.” Julie stalked off muttering something else.

  Olivia knew she shouldn’t have said anything. She didn’t need to hear the words to feel the resentment. By having the visible scar she was drawing attention from the bride to herself—like that was a deliberate plan. Julie didn’t realise how much Olivia would change if she could. She closed her eyes.

  She could do this. Play nice and keep the peace so that the day went smoothly. The wedding would be here in a few weeks. Then it would be over in a blink.

  The other bridesmaids were Julie’s friends, and while she’d known a few of them during high school, they weren’t her friends. She was a bridesmaid simply because she was related. She was sure that if Julie could’ve managed to get out of having her in the bridal party without drawing the wrath of their parents she would’ve. If Olivia could’ve got out of it she would’ve. Being on display and the centre of attention wasn’t her thing at all, even before the accident.

  “Are you done? Shall I help you get out of it? Gorgeous colour, isn’t it?” The shop assistant prattled as she undid the zip.

  Olivia let her remove the dress, leaving her standing in what looked like a sausage skin, and was like a medieval torture device minus the whale bones. Everyone had to wear shapewear to make sure there were no unsightly bumps in the photos. She hated the stuff. And it was going to be hot wearing it under the dress for the wedding. If she didn’t wear it, would Julie notice on the day; surely there’d be other things to think about?

  The idea of having that argument on the day, of being labelled the one who spoilt the wedding, was enough to make her shiver. She’d wear it. She knew she would because that would create the least amount of tension.

  If she’d been the one getting married it would’ve been summer dresses and a barbeque. Done. Julie was spending a small fortune on one day, but she already had the house and had made no secret of the fact her fiancé was well off.

  “Oh, let me see your ring?” The shop assistant lifted Olivia’s hand. “Very pretty and practical. Big rings get caught everything. I wanted something smaller, but he wouldn’t hear a word of it.” She showed Olivia her ring, as if she gave a damn.

  I’m sure you wanted something smaller.

  When could she get out of here?

  “So when is the big day?” The sales assistant obviously thought she could get another client.

  Olivia heard Julie gasp. Oh no, the conversation was no longer about Julie!

  She swallowed. She’d answered the question many times before; it hadn’t got any easier, only weirder. “He’s dead. There will be no wedding.”

  The woman blinked several times. “Oh. I see. I’m sorry.�
� Then she bustled away to make a fuss over the other bridesmaids.

  Julie grabbed her arm. “Why did you have to do that?”

  “She asked.” Olivia tried to pull away but Julie used her nails, the same as when they were kids. Doing anything would result in a tighter grip.

  “That doesn’t mean you have to tell the truth. Weddings are supposed to be happy and you are turning this into a morbid remembrance of what you lost.” Julie released her. “God. I can’t believe you still wear that. It’s embarrassing. It’s no wonder you can’t get a date for the wedding. Men see that and think you’re taken.”

  “Well, at least you’re saving on a meal.” Olivia stripped off the sausage skin and left it on the floor. Maybe she could accidentally lose it. She slid her maxi dress on and shoved her feet into her sandals. She was done. She’d tried on the damn dress; she didn’t have to hang around.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. Come on, we’re having lunch after this.”

  Olivia stared at her sister. Julie didn’t want her at lunch, not really. And she didn’t want to be there.

  “You did mean it like that.” Tears formed, but she refused to let Julie see them, so she blinked fast and hoped that her sister didn’t notice. How could Julie get under her skin so fast? “You don’t get to decide when I stop wearing my ring.”

  If she took off her ring it would be like admitting Miles had never existed. Had never been a part of her life. It would mean that she was ready to move on.

  “After what he did to you, I’m surprised you wear it at all.” Julie raised one eyebrow, as if she’d won the fight with pure logic.

  For a moment it was as though Olivia was trapped in the sausage skin and couldn’t breathe. “At least I know how to care.”

  But Julie didn’t hear, or if she did, she chose not to listen.

  It had taken three goes to get her car started in the car park near the dress shop, and she’d bawled all the way home. For herself, for the life Miles had never got and for Ethan who’d never met his father. Then she cried in the driveway because she knew Julie was right. She couldn’t wear her engagement ring forever. How many times had she told people there’d be no wedding because her fiancé was dead?

  Too many.

  And each time her response was met with a mix of pity and horror. She didn’t want to be that person anymore.

  Olivia turned up the air-conditioning and folded her arms over the steering wheel and placed her forehead on them. She drew in several deep breaths. Her mother would know she’d been crying. She probably wouldn’t ask why. The wedding wasn’t bringing out the best in either of her daughters.

  Plenty of people had told her she shouldn’t be getting engaged or having a baby at eighteen. Surprisingly, no one had said that she wasn’t old enough to be widowed—was it widowed when they hadn’t been married? However plenty had frowned and said she was too young to be a single mother. What did they want? Young and married with a baby or young and single with a baby?

  There was no winning.

  She gave her face another pat and hoped the chill of the AC had reduced some of the redness. She’d been happy when Julie had announced her engagement, but as the wedding plans had started she’d been feeling more off kilter, the impending celebration dredging up thoughts and feelings she’d thought long buried.

  Julie had accused her of being jealous, but she wasn’t. She didn’t want Julie’s life…okay maybe a little. It would be nice to have own place with her husband-to-be. But that had been taken and it wasn’t what she had. At least living with her parents she got some help with Ethan.

  Those first few months she’d really needed it. It had taken a lot of physiotherapy to get her arm working as well as it did, but it was weaker. Loss of muscle due to infection, the doctors had said.

  She’d kept her eye and defied them all. Ethan had also survived against the odds. He’d been a tiny baby, born eight weeks early. Not that she’d known at the time. She’d been in an induced coma for weeks. Her parents had thought they were going to lose her and their grandson.

  Julie could take her ugly orange dresses and shove them into the sausages skins. She wasn’t going to participate if she wasn’t wanted, but as Olivia thought it she knew she’d never say that because it would gut her parents. Even her brother Rhys was flying back from Europe to take part.

  So she’d smile and act like she was happy.

  She was happy.

  Most of the time.

  The wedding was going to kill her.

  So was sitting in the car waiting for a miracle. Her mother would be wondering what she was doing. She turned the car off and got out, missing the AC already. While there was a lot wrong with her car, at least that worked. The front door opened and Ethan ran out, her mother right behind him. Her mother stopped once she was happy that he was making straight for his mother and not for the road.

  Olivia bent down and hugged him. A smile formed as he kissed her. Julie could keep her fancy wedding. “Hey cutie. Did you have fun with Gran?”

  “We had ice-cream.”

  “Did you save me some?”

  He shook his head. She went to stand but he wrapped his arms around her neck, wanting to be carried.

  “Other side, hon.” She hated having to remind him. How much longer until she couldn’t lift him at all? “One, two, three.”

  She braced and lifted him. He was getting too heavy for her. Her mother shook her head as she watched, no doubt thinking the same thing. Olivia hugged him tighter. It wouldn’t be long until he wouldn’t want to be picked up. She walked towards the house, the sun reflecting off the concrete driveway and making her eyes water. She should’ve left her sunnies on. Her hip clipped the letterbox and she bit her lip to keep from crying out as pain radiated through her bones.

  Damn it. She should’ve seen that, but it was in her rather large blind spot. She had to turn her head to take in what most people saw peripherally. That was the price of keeping her eye.

  She made it to the front door with only a slight hobble. Her mother took Ethan and Olivia rubbed her hip. It didn’t take away the pain, but it was better than suffering and doing nothing. The bruise would be epic.

  “Put some ice on it.”

  “I will. It’s not like the letterbox has moved. I know it’s there.” It was the kind of dumb thing that had happened in the first year as she’d gotten used to the changes in her body.

  “You were distracted. Ice.” Her mother ordered her into the house and put Ethan down.

  As soon as the front door was shut Ethan raced to the freezer. “Ice?”

  Olivia handed him an ice cube and got herself the icepack. He happily crunched the ice up, water dribbling down his chin. She smiled. He smiled back and that did more than any icepack. She sat down, positioned the icepack and let him climb onto her lap.

  Sometimes he looked just like Miles. All blond hair and smiles.

  It broke her heart all over again, but no more tears fell. There were no more. How many times had she thought that only to discover another well?

  “How was the fitting?” Her mother boiled the kettle and started making two cups of coffee. Caffeine was probably the last thing she needed right now.

  “Like getting trussed up and then examined. I didn’t get the best in show ribbon.” That was an understatement. Although, with any luck, Julie would declare her unfit for duty and she could escape the wedding party, if not the wedding.

  “Julie has always been highly strung.” Her mum placed two cups of coffee on the table. “She likes to be the star.”

  No kidding.

  Julie was also the eldest and most successful child. She was the good child of the family. The smartest and the one who had her life together. Rhys was odd-jobbing his way around Europe with a bunch of mates. And while he was coming home for the wedding—because his ticket was paid for—everyone expected him to leave again. He had no plans to do anything else, it seemed.

  Olivia sighed and sipped her coffee. Rhys was makin
g the most of his freedom. She’d forgotten what that was. “Has Frankie told you her news?”

  “Yes, she’s very excited to finally be free of it.” Her mother smiled as if it was her business that had been sold.

  Olivia had known that Frankie was tired, but she’d thought it was more concern about her husband than being sick of running the café. People hid what they didn’t want the world to see. She knew that. She glanced at the ring and let Ethan wriggle to the floor.

  “The staff may be let go.” She was raining on everyone’s parade today.

  “But you’re qualified now and have two years of experience. You should be able to snap up a job.”

  She doubted that, but she didn’t say anything. “I might start looking, just in case.” She glanced at Ethan, now driving a small car over every surface. “I don’t know how many part-time jobs are out there.”

  Her mother placed her hand over Olivia’s. “You’ll be fine. You’re due some good luck.”

  She hoped so. If not, she was obviously burning off some bad karma from a previous life. Olivia looked at the ring again. Unless she was holding onto her bad luck. She frowned. “Mum, do you think it’s time I stopped wearing it?”

  “What, Olivia?” Then her mum lowered her gaze to Olivia’s hand. “No one can tell you when it’s time to move on. No matter what, you’ll always have it and the memories.”

  And the scars. But her mother didn’t say that even if she was thinking it.

  Miles had left his mark on her life in more ways than one.

  If she stopped wearing it she was sure Ethan’s other grandparents would notice straight away. Once a fortnight she took him to see them. They had never liked the idea of her and Miles getting married, they’d liked her being pregnant less. Nevertheless, they had set up a scholarship fund for when Ethan reached high school. She had to remember that while she had lost her fiancé, they had lost a son. She could always put the ring back on for them…no. If she was going to take it off, she’d do it right and take it off forever.