Page 31 of The Side Road (Love Chronicles #3)

BILLY GOAT

Mia and Holly settled into their shared living arrangement.

As the days passed, the temperature dropped, and the crisp mornings had them practising yoga indoors.

At the beginning of the week, Mia made a winter minestrone that lasted for two days.

Inspired, Holly followed this with a chicken noodle broth.

Both agreed that soup for supper was the best thing in the world.

Coming home to find a friend in the kitchen was nearly as good.

Their topics of conversation included music, self-help podcasts, and new release TV shows.

They talked about seasonal colours and finding a sustainable work–life balance that would see them through to retirement.

(This included never returning to the city, always having a dog, and prioritising morning yoga).

After reading the local newspaper, Mia liked to discuss what was happening in the region.

Holly preferred global politics. Dating and travel were not on their agenda, but new recipes and Snood’s behaviour in the dog park received equal analysis.

Holly read books on pregnancy, which she discussed with Mia, while Mia read bestselling novels in popular genres.

Describing the more far-fetched plots, they giggled like songbirds.

On many evenings, a comfortable silence settled over them, punctuated only by the clinking of knitting needles and the low hum of the oven.

One evening, as they were finishing bowls of French onion soup, Mia said, ‘I’m scared I’m going to blow up this thing with Oliver.’

Holly paused and looked at her. ‘Why?’

‘Because I can’t believe my luck. He might be the best man I’ve ever met. I don’t expect it to last.’

It was not the first time she had felt like this. Having a painful childhood made her cynical about the existence of good things. Sometimes, a great deal of care had to be taken not to blow up the good luck that came her way.

‘You won’t blow it up,’ Holly said, and she returned to her soup. ‘You’re older and wiser.’

Mia doubted it worked that way.

While Mia was happy to discuss Saige’s relationship with Connor and April’s dating forays, Holly remained close-lipped on Miles and his family.

She continued her marketing work for the Mill Olive Estate and Winery but completed most of her tasks at home.

When Miles was absent, attending a function in Sydney, she drove to the estate and worked on site.

It was Blanche’s idea that Mia volunteer at the Men’s Shed.

Twice a week, Blanche gave cooking lessons.

Easy winter warmers, she called the recipes.

Pasta bakes, one-tray chicken dishes, curries, and self-saucing cakes.

The recipes were available in PDF format, complemented by Blanche's simple step-by-step instructions.

In early June, using the same format, Mia spent Thursday afternoons introducing the gents to yarn craft.

She provided a handout with diagrams and instructions.

Initially, she used large needles, twelve-ply wool, and simple techniques.

A week later, a man called Kevin was making a geometric kaleidoscope jacket with love woven into every stitch.

When someone knocked on the door on Sunday afternoon, Mia and Snood walked down the hallway. She was expecting Oliver – Tash and Mary had gone to the movies. Mia opened the door and found Miles standing on the veranda. Snood followed her outside and she shut the door behind her.

Rough stubble shadowed Miles’ pale face. His eyes were weary and he looked ten years older. It had been a rough few weeks and Mia felt for him. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

‘No! I’m not okay. Talk some sense into my wife. She’s ignoring my messages and she won’t return my calls.’ Covering his face with his hands, he pressed his fingertips into his eyes. ‘This is not my fucking fault.’ He hurled the words at her.

‘Yelling at me won’t help,’ Mia said. Her sympathy was on a short leash and she was about to rein it in.

‘I don’t know what else to do.’

‘Miles, serious question; why did you order pizza when Holly had cooked dinner?’

‘Is that what this is about?’

‘You know it’s not, but it was the final straw.’

‘I had an undercooked chicken sandwich for lunch. Honestly, I felt sick and couldn’t face chicken again for dinner.’

‘Where did you get the sandwich?’

‘The food van on the highway. Never again.’

The van had a reputation for poor hygiene and had received many bad reviews. Mia offered a sympathetic smile. ‘Why didn’t you just tell Holly? ’

Miles sighed. ‘Every time I open my mouth, I say the wrong thing. It’s easier if I say nothing. Mia, I don’t know how to be a father. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, and it’s freaking me out.’

‘Why don’t you try counselling?’

‘Do I look like someone who has a counsellor?’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘They’ll just laugh at me.’ He had started pacing and Snood watched him walk back and forth.

Mia was tempted to point out that therapy might resolve several long-standing destructive behaviours, teach him how to communicate, help him accept his flaws, and work on his self-esteem.

But he didn’t need a lecture, and she doubted he would listen.

She also wanted to add, stop using all caps when texting. But it was not the right time.

‘Is she inside? Is that why you closed the door?’ Miles stepped toward the house.

Mia blocked his path. ‘The last thing you need is a restraining order.’

‘She’s my wife!’

‘That doesn’t make her your property.’

Snood had supersonic hearing; he never forgot an engine. As the Citroen climbed the hill, the dog left his position on the veranda and bounded to the gate to wait for Oliver.

After parking, Oliver climbed out of the car.

When he caught Mia’s eye, she shot him an alarmed expression.

He absorbed this like fuel, stretching to his full height.

As he opened the front gate, he greeted Snood, then scaled the steps two at a time and stood square-footed beside Mia.

Miles was three years older, but Oliver was a head taller, broader across the chest, and his wrists were like wrenches.

‘Miles.’ Oliver held out his hand. ‘It’s been a while. How are you?’

Miles crossed his arms over his chest. He set his jaw, and his neck muscles bulged. ‘Are you seeing my wife? Because if you go anywhere?—’

‘Jesus, Miles,’ Mia said. ‘Oliver is here to see me. Have you lost your mind?’

Miles uncrossed his arms and clenched his fists. Mia thought he might be about to combust. She expected steam to shoot from his ears.

Like Snood, Oliver didn’t take his eyes off the angry man. When Miles tried to sidestep around him, Oliver blocked. As Miles moved to his left, Oliver blocked again. ‘It might be time to go,’ he said.

‘Fuck!’ Miles turned and headed down the steps. At the front gate, he stumbled and grabbed the railing to steady himself. Gasping for breath, he fell over the fence. Sweat beaded on his brow. He started shaking like a leaf.

In a few steps, Oliver was by his side, helping him to his feet.

‘My chest…no air,’ Miles mumbled.

‘Breathe slowly. Follow me. ‘In’ – Oliver took a breath – ‘and out.’ Oliver exhaled. Miles copied Oliver’s rhythm. After several breaths, his breathing was under control.

‘You, okay?’ Oliver asked.

Miles nodded. ‘I thought it was a heart attack and I was dying.’

‘You had a panic attack.’

Miles looked up at the sky. ‘I’m such a fucking cliché. I can’t believe Holly married me.’ He shook himself free from Oliver’s grasp and stepped through the gate toward his car.

As they watched him drive away, Mia asked, ‘What was that all about?’

‘He might need to talk to someone.’

They turned and walked back to the house. ‘You don’t like him, I can tell,’ Mia said .

‘I haven’t seen Miles in fifteen years. People change.’

‘It doesn’t look like he’s changed. Why don’t you like him?’

‘When we were kids – teenagers – we used to play a game called Billy Goat. We would wear our motorbike helmets and run into each other. Helmet-to-helmet collisions.’

‘Good god. Had you been drinking?’

Oliver laughed. ‘Yes. It was great fun.’

‘How old were you?’

‘It was before I left school, so fifteen or sixteen.’

‘Which means Miles was eighteen.’

Oliver rubbed his eye. ‘We used to hang out in the training room after everyone had left. Miles came by one day with a few friends. We were playing the Billy Goat game, and he started a fight. It’s difficult to fight back when you’re wearing a helmet.

One kid was sent to hospital with a broken arm. ’

‘He was a bully?’ Mia’s heart palpitated. ‘My best friend is married to this man.’

‘Hey’—he put his arm around her—‘people change.’

If someone were to ask Mia what she liked most about Oliver, she would say it was his confidence. He was quietly confident. His happiness came from a powerful acceptance of himself. It can’t have always been that way.

She wondered what ten-year-old Oliver was like – with a belligerent father who drank and a mother who had recently died.

Thinking about ten-year-old Oliver living alone with just his father broke her heart.

Quickly, she wiped the boyish image from her mind.

Shifting ahead, she thought about sixteen-year-old Oliver.

He had left school and was working in the garage with his father.

How did he become the man he was? How did he keep his sense of humour?

Oliver straddled the line between adolescence and adulthood.

Keeping one foot in each camp, he refused to leave his teenage self – or perhaps it was his boyhood self – behind.

He held onto the little boy inside him, the one both parents loved.

Mia concluded that his mother must have been an amazing woman.