Page 45 of Resist

“Don’t talk to my father either.”

“That’s awful. Why?”

“Because they’re arseholes. They want nothing to do with me because I take my clothes off for a living.”

I didn’t know what to say, but it did explain some of his outward aggressive behavior. It also hurt my heart that he lacked the love of not one but two parents, and for what reason … because he was a stripper?

“You know what, Josh, I’ve always said that if they let go so easily, they were never worthy of holding you in the first place.”

Josh glanced over his shoulder and gave me a sad nod just as Lucas burst through the door, his face stern but covered with determination. He didn’t say anything, he just made his way to the bathroom and returned with a small towel in his hand, which he laid upon the benchtop and proceeded to cover with ice.

Sitting there on the sofa, my leg resting on the coffee table, I felt stupid and inadequate. Powerless. And, yet, unlike every other time I’d felt this way, I didn’t feel threatened. I didn’t feel scared or that I was ‘easy prey’.

I felt comforted instead, something I wasn’t used to.

“Here,” Lucas said as he sat on the sofa beside me. “Let’s get that shoe off and that foot riced.”

“Riced?”

He smiled, finding me out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, RICE. You know … Rest. Ice. Compression. Elevation?”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m a mum, so I know all about that—” I cut myself off, but it was too late; I’d said the M word, loud and clear.

“You’re a mum?” Josh blurted.

Shiiiit!

I shuffled to sit upright and avoided making eye contact with Lucas. “Yes. I have a son.”

“Where is he?”

“In Melbourne.”

“In some kind of boarding school?”

“No, not quite.”

Josh’s eyes narrowed, and he appeared a little angry. “When I was young, my parents shoved me in boarding school while they travelled the world. It sucked. A kid should be with his or her parents.”

“Jason isn’t a kid, Josh.”

Lucas carefully lifted my high heel from my foot. “How old is he?”

My eyes met his and my mouth seized. Pain throbbed in my toe, and bile rose to my throat. “He’s just turned twenty.”

Staring into Lucas’s eyes feltas if I were being drawn into a sea of sparkling mermaids. Because he was smiling at me. The kind of smile that warmed you like a campfire and made you believe that rainbows really did end in a pot of gold. And I couldn’t understand why. Because he shouldn’t be smiling. He should be running out the door. Fast.

“Ah fuck!” Josh groaned. “That means I’ve lost the bet … unless you were eighteen—”

“No, Josh, I wasn’tthatyoung when I had Jason,” I said, still staring at Lucas.

“Fuuuuck.” Josh shoved another sofa until it was no longer in the centre of the living room.

“How old were you?” Lucas asked, his voice lowered, his fingers caressing my foot.

“Old enough.”

He nodded then glanced down at my toe. “Looks broken.”