Mara could barely string a sentence together. She wanted to call Chase, but things were still tense between them and she knew if she called, she’d tell him everything—her past, her parents, everything. She needed someone who already knew. Someone safe. Someone who couldn’t judge. And try as she might to think of anyone else, her mind kept circling to Derek. He was big and calm. He wouldn’t ask questions. He knew about her parents.
The letter he’d left with Chase at HFA lay unopened on her coffee table, and as she paced her house crying, her eyes returned to it again and again. As the hours slid by, all possibilities narrowed down to him. At nine o’clock, she gave in, snatching up her phone. She thought he’d make her wait, if only for subconscious revenge, but he picked up after the first ring. “Hey, baby.”
Mara almost burst into tears then and there. “Hi, Derek. It’s me.”
“I know. I’ve been thinking about you.” He gave a slow yawn and Mara could just see him piled on his couch in a big gray hoodie.
“Can I… can I come over to your place?”
There was a short silence. “I mean, fuck yeah. Now, you mean?”
“Yes. Now. What’s your address?”
“61 Larsen Lane. Richmond.” She heard him sit up. “It’s still raining. You sure you don’t want me to come to you?”
She looked around her living room with its Persian silk paintings and huge velvet couch. “No. I’ll drive over if that’s fine?”
“Of course. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. I want to… hook up.”
She sounded ridiculous. Like a teenager planning a date with a fifty-year-old married guy. To Derek’s credit, he didn’t laugh. “We can do that.”
“I don’t want it to be nice,” she said quickly. “I don’t even want it to even be us, if that makes sense?”
“Okay.” Derek’s voice was low. “How not-nice do you want me to be?”
“Um… Remember the night on the hill? After you came back from the Adelaide exchange?”
She hoped he wouldn’t ask her to explain more—the way he’d left the car and came back a cruel stranger, making her cry out and plead until her whole body trembled.
“I remember. Safe word’s ‘magic?’”
“Yes. It’s ‘magic.’”
“Good. Come over.”
They ended the call. Mara didn’t exactly feel better, but she felt sharper. More focused. She tried to pick out a sexy outfit, but nothing worked. Eventually, she settled for jeans, her battered Prada sneakers, and her waterproof Max Mara jacket. Derek wouldn’t mind. He’d seen her in her hideous Albury Secondary uniform. Besides, she wouldn’t be dressed for long.
She passed Derek’s envelope on her way out and paused. On one hand, he might ask her about it. On the other, it might be heavy—an apology or pictures of them when they were young. Stuff she couldn’t handle on top of what was already happening. Whatever was in the letter, Derek hadn’t brought it up on the phone. Hopefully, that meant it wasn’t urgent.
Her car smelled like Pan. She drove with her mouth open, blinking fast so she wouldn’t cry.
Derek lived exactly where you’d expect a football player to live. A clean, inner-city suburb, full of huge, white houses. A far cry from the streets where they’d once caught the bus to school. She slowed as she approached his address and saw him leaning against a fence post in the rain. He was waiting for her.
She smiled, her mouth so unused to the sensation it felt like her face was cracking. He was dressed exactly as she’d imagined, in tracksuit pants and a sweatshirt, the hood pulled over his head. Her grandma had thought he did it to look tough, but Mara was sure he felt comforted surrounded by fabric. Either that or he felt like a knight from one of the books he loved.
She waved and he raised a hand in reply. His expression was dry, as though she’d done something naughty. Her smile widened. Derek, for all his other traits, was such a grumpy old man.
“Nice car,” he said when she got out.
“Thanks.”
He looked her up and down. “Is it worth asking where you got the money for a brand new Panamera 4S?”
Her stomach sank. She’d run to him seeking comfort but despite all the drama they’d gone through, she’d forgotten Derek didn’t know about her money. He’d seen her clothes, her bags, her jewellery, but of course, none of that had registered for him the way her car had. Her lower lip trembled. “I don’t… I can’t.”
“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” He opened his arms, and she was so grateful, she fell against his chest like a little girl. He held her tight as rain fell down on both of them.
He kissed her forehead. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
He felt amazing, hard muscle encased in soft fabric. Mara breathed him in as quietly as she could. It’s good to see you, too.
She pulled away, glancing up at the white monstrosity of his house. “Um, nice place.”
“It’s not mine. My mate Byron owns it.”
“Oh.” With a rush, she remembered the auction. “That house Chase outbid you for…?”
“… would have been my first place.”
“But you’ve been famous for ages!”
His dry smile returned. “Yeah, but I didn’t feel ready for a home. I didn’t know what I wanted.”
Do you know what you want now?
She couldn’t bring herself to ask. She pressed her face into his pecs again, rubbing her nose against the cotton.
“Everything’s okay, Little Miss. Everything’s fine.”
The pressure behind her eyes increased.
I will not cry, she told herself. Except during sex when it’s role-play appropriate.
She pulled back and tried to smile. “Should we go inside?”
“Sure.” He took her hand, leading her to the front porch.
“Wait. Do you want me to go inside first? So, you can come in and surprise me or whatever?”
He looked at her like she was insane. “We’re not doing that.”
“What?” Mara pulled her hand from his. “I said I wanted to!”
“Yeah, that was before you showed up looking like you’ve been crying all day. Now we’re gonna sit on the couch and watch whatever shitful TV show you’re into right now.”
He was presumptuous. Yet something inside Mara rejoiced. Watching Riverdale with Derek’s arm around her shoulder sounded heavenly.
He held out a hand. “Coming?”
“No. Nothing is wrong! And I want to…” She looked around, conscious of neighbours. “… do what we said we would do.”
Derek continued up the stairs and paused beside the front door. “We will. When you’re ready. Now come in. It’s raining.”
“But…?”
“I’ll make you a hot chocolate.”
He would. He would put her on his couch, bring her hot drinks and make fun of Riverdale until she unraveled. She couldn’t have that. But there was one last card she could play. She ran up the stairs, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him.
Derek waited a moment, then hauled her into his arms and kissed her back. She felt his cock swell through his gray sweatpants. Within seconds it was hard as iron. She ran her hand across his shaved skull, the stubble pricking every nerve ending in her palm. “Derek, please take me to bed?”
He pulled away, dazed. “You’re too upset.”
She nipped his lower lip. “I’m not.”
With a growl, he kissed her again. Deeper this time. Mara drew on him as though it was the only thing keeping her alive. His mouth still locked on hers, Derek picked her up, kicked open the front door, and carried her into the coolness of the house.
“Where d’you want it?” he muttered. “Bed or couch?”
“I don’t know…”
“I should take you on the front porch, you’re so naughty.” He buried his face in her neck and gently bit her earlobe. A jolt ran through her. Pan. Pan used to do that when she was a puppy.
Her tears came, hard and unforgiving as Amazonian rain, shaking her body and making her howl. She cried for Pan and for the environment. She cried for Chase and her mum and her grandma and for Derek and the whole world. For all the things she couldn’t fix. And as she purged her pain, she stopped sobbing. Instead, she moaned. Low musical sounds that were almost like singing. She wouldn’t have called it crying at all except for the tears streaming out of her eyes, soaking his hoodie.
He stroked the back of her head, whispering the same thing over and over. “It’s okay. Keep going. It’s okay. Keep going.”
So, she kept going. Time swayed around them as she moaned, her heart throbbing as though it had been hollowed out. Her thoughts spiraled, dipping and rising like the kites she and Derek had once flown at Inger Hill. Bad things happened and there was so little you could do sometimes. Except cry and be held by someone.
And really, she had come here to be held. Without Pan, the last barrier to Derek had dissolved. She needed him. Needed the comfort of his big body. Needed him to take care of her, the way he had when she was eighteen. So, she clung to him like a little koala and cried.
Eventually, she pulled away and saw she’d left a mix of water and black mascara on his shoulder. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He pushed the hair out of her face. “Keep going.”
“I don’t want to keep going. This is so embarrassing.”
“No, it isn’t. Come on.”
He carried her through the house. It was nice in a tasteless way, white and empty as eggshells—the exact opposite of what she’d wanted when she’d found a place of her own. He flipped on the light in the kitchen and placed her on a tall bench chair. “You sit here.”
“What are you going to do?”
He pulled a sandwich press from under the counter. “Make you a toasted ham and cheese.”
“I don’t need a sandwich!”
“Yeah, you do. Your stomach was going nuts the whole time you were crying.”
She massaged her admittedly empty stomach. She’d been too upset to eat all day and now that she was done purging about ten years of anxiety, a toasted sandwich did sound good.
“But you were all turned on,” she reminded him.
He grinned that stupid ‘you’re nuts but I love it’ smile. “I’ll survive. Stay put. It won’t take long.”
Mara watched as he pulled a loaf of bread and butter from the cupboard.
“I’ve only got rye bread,” he said, collecting ham slices and cheese from the fridge. “And you’re gonna have to eat alone. I’m not allowed to eat this late. Maggie—the diet lady at the club—would kill me. She wants me to put grilled zucchini on toasties.”
“Ew.”
Derek laughed. “Yeah. My point exactly.”
He arranged the bread on a cutting board and buttered both sides. He was the only person she knew who did that and she also knew exactly what he’d say if she protested. ‘You can never have enough butter, M. That’s just a butter fact.’
“So, what’s wrong?” he asked, slicing tomatoes. “And don’t say nothing. You cried half the Yarra onto me.”
Mara had been debating whether to tell him the truth. She gave in. “I have a dog. A puppy. I got her last year and she’s just…” She struggled to hold back more tears. “She’s my best friend. I know how silly that sounds, but she is. I didn’t know I could love something the way I love her.”
Derek laid strips of ham onto buttered bread. “You always wanted a dog. What happened?”
“She’s sick. She was sick all yesterday, but the vet told me not to bring her in because it was probably something she ate. Then this morning she could barely move…”
Her chest hitched, but no tears came. They seemed to have dissolved into Derek’s hoodie. “I took her to the vet. They told me it was a fever. They started her on antibiotics and anti-nausea drugs.”
“Is she okay?”
“She… she will be. The vet says it’s mild. But they’re keeping her overnight and I just keep thinking…” Her hands shook, and she pressed them to her face to steady them, watching through her fingers as Derek slid the sandwiches into the toaster. “I just keep thinking I should have done better. Looked after her more.”
Derek came around the bench and pulled her into his arms. She curled up like a kitten against his chest. “There’s nothing you could have done differently, M.”
“You don’t know that.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I do. She’ll be okay. And I know it must have been huge for you to look after something. To open yourself up like that, but your dog’s just sick, M. You’re not being punished for loving something.”
Mara hated that he knew her so well, even as she drew reassurance from his words. “I know she’ll get better. I just wish I could be with her right now.”
Derek returned to his post beside the sandwich press. “I’m sorry your dog’s sick, baby. What’s her name?”
“Pan.”
“Like, from the Golden Compass?”
She ducked her head. He’d remembered. He shouldn’t have, but he did. “Yeah.”
He smiled, the hundred-megawatt smile she hadn’t seen once in years of online stalking.
“What are you grinning about?” he asked, opening the sandwich press.
“It’s funny, isn’t it? Being together again?”
“Trippy, you mean?”
She nodded.
“Yeah, it is. I like it though.”
He slid the sandwiches back onto the cutting board. Not to serve them, Mara knew, but to cut them in half and put them back on the press so the cheese would melt more. She watched him do just that and her mind took her to his sister’s kitchen, the two of them hanging out after school.
“How’s… football?” she asked, just to say something.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Sorry, I don’t want to be weird but I feel like we haven’t talked about football at all.”
He cracked up.
“What’s so funny?”
Derek bent over, slapping the bench. “We haven’t talked about football? We haven’t talked about shit, Mara. We haven’t had a five-minute conversation since I ran into you.”
“You mean ‘stalked me.’”
He held up a tomato. “You say it one way…”
“I say it another,” she finished trying and failing to hold back a smile. “You’re still a closet dork, aren’t you?”
“Of course. And football’s fine. Same as school, pretty much. Better, because I don’t have to worry about fucking up my essays.” He flashed her a smile. “Might be worth going back to see you in your uniform.”
“I looked awful in my uniform!”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
He took the now-sizzling sandwiches from the press and cut them into triangles before arranging them on a small blue plate.
Mara flushed. “I’m not a child.”
He pushed the sandwiches across to her. “Aren’t you?”
Embarrassed, she seized a triangle and bit into it. It was perfect. The melty cheese and juicy tomatoes sharpened by the salty ham. She tried to eat slowly, but the first triangle was gone in seconds. As she tore into another, Derek pulled a bottle of milk from the fridge and poured a huge glass. She wondered if it was a protein thing before he slid it in front of her. “Here you go.”
Mara choked on her second triangle. “Derek! I’m twenty-eight, I don’t drink big glasses of milk anymore.”
“Does that mean you don’t like them?”
It was hard to argue with that. She took a sip of milk. It was ice cold and creamy. Derek beamed at her and she realised she’d raised the cup with both hands, like a little girl. She put it down. “Thanks.”
“No problem. So where are you living these days?”
Mara glared at him over her milk.
“Don’t be naughty, Little Miss. We’re having a truce.”
“Is that what we’re doing?”
Wordlessly, he cut up the second sandwich and gave it to her. Noticing the hungry look in his eyes, she held out a triangle. He shook his head.
“You’re not going to eat at all?”
“Nope.”
“But you must eat at night sometimes. And you still drink! You had that whole bottle of…”
“Whole bottle of what, Little Miss?”
Mara felt the tingle of cold champagne down her spine. She bit into her sandwich. “My point was it can’t be good for you to drink at night.”
“Yeah, but it’s not gonna throw my weight off the way carbs do.”
“You need to lose weight?”
“I need to maintain my current weight. It’s not as easy now I’m, you know… old.”
“You’re not old.”
“In football years, I am. Anyway, alcohol’s different. A man needs to drink.”
Mara rolled her eyes. “You changed the subject.”
“And you haven’t been doing that at all, have you, baby?”
She gave him a rueful smile. “I told you about Pan.”
“You did. When do I get to meet her?”
The cheesy bread turned to chalk in Mara’s mouth. She chewed automatically, avoiding his eyes.
“Hmm.” Derek leaned across the bench. “You know, Little Miss? I think you’re rich.”
He said it so smugly. Like he’d just solved a game of Cluedo. She shook her head. “Derek, that’s obvious.”
“It’s not obvious!”
“I don’t try to hide it.” She held up her arm. “This cost three thousand dollars.”
Derek’s mouth fell open. “Hang on. How rich are you?”
“Richer than you.”
“You don’t know how much money I have.”
“I don’t need to know. I’m richer than you.”
He smirked, clearly not believing her. “Sure thing, Buffett.” He slung a tea towel over his massive shoulder. “How’d you get it? The money?”
“I don’t… I don’t think I can say tonight. Can we maybe…?”
“Sure,” he said easily. Then smiled. “We’re being really mature right now.”
“I guess.”
“And since we’re being mature, can I ask what the deal with HFA is? I thought you hated real estate.”
“Real estate agents.” She shrugged. “I don’t know, I wanted to do something good, I guess. Try and help people get homes.”
“Well, I’m proud of you.”
Mara didn’t know what was worse, that he was proud of her, or that her chest glowed when he said it. Somehow, without deciding to, she’d entered Little Miss mode—letting Derek make her sandwiches, telling him her secrets. Letting him approve of her decisions. Next thing she knew, she’d be calling him Daddy…
“Still, I’d be happier if your company hadn’t bought the house I wanted,” Derek said wryly. “That Chase guy is a killer.”
“He is.”
She missed Chase. Maybe tomorrow she’d have the strength to go into the office and insist they talk it all out.
Derek picked up a sponge and wiped down the sandwich press. “I bet you’re a great rich person.”
“How so?”
“You have good ideas about stuff. I bet you’re fun with money. Host parties all the time.”
Mara almost choked on her milk. “How do you know?”
“Because I know you. I remember that night after graduation when you made up that picnic on the hill. Everyone said it was the best thing ever.”
Mara remembered that too. The fairy lights she’d strung across the gum trees, the brown sugar she’d poured into the sangria trying to make the cheap wine palatable. Everyone had enjoyed themselves, even the meanest football players, even their equally mean girlfriends. A few strings of lights and a near-lethal cocktail had made everyone feel so grown up. Being responsible for all that fun had been such a beautiful feeling. One she’d been chasing ever since.
“So, are they big?” Derek asked. “Your parties?”
“They used to be. But when I moved back to Melbourne, I wanted to slow things down. No more than twenty people, these days.”
Derek froze. “So, you haven’t been in Melbourne? You went overseas?”
All the comfort flooded out of her. She picked up another triangle, her gaze fixed on her fingers. “I… yeah. But I can’t talk about it.”
“It’s okay, M. Another day.” Derek tapped her crumb-strewn plate. “One more?”
“I’m done. Thank you.”
“Anytime.” He cleared the plate away and a yawn rattled its way through Mara’s body, stretching her jaw wide. Now she was fed, her body was crying out for another human need.
“I should go,” she said, suppressing a second yawn.
Derek yawned too, pressing a hand to his mouth. “You tired, Little Miss?”
“Yeah, that’s why I have to get home.”
She tried to will herself out of the chair. She’d have to keep all the windows down while she was driving. Freeze herself into concentration.
“How about we watch ‘How to Train Your Dragon?’”
She looked at Derek. “Pardon?”
“What if instead of you driving home in the rain and crashing into a post-box, we watch a movie in bed together and fall asleep like we used to.”
Mara closed her eyes. She wanted to, but it was too weird. It was one thing to hook up with your ex. It was another to have cuddle parties with them.
Derek sighed. “That’s enough thinking. Come on, Little Miss.”
He came around the bench and picked her up, hauling her over his shoulder. “Time for bed.”
“Nooo! I wanted to leave!”
“Yeah, well I hid your keys.” He swung her into his arms, carrying her bridal style toward the hallway.
“You are not carrying me up the stairs!”
“What’s the point of being match-fit if I can’t carry my baby upstairs?”
Mara wanted to protest. But for reasons she couldn’t dissect, she closed her eyes and let him take her effortlessly upward.
Derek’s bedroom was nice, with a huge bed with a blue cover and a giant TV mounted on the wall. Some arty framed photos were the only creative flair she could see. Derek placed her gently on her feet. “What do you think?”
“I thought you’d have a bookshelf of fantasy novels and a big Bliss N Eso poster over the bed.”
“Books are downstairs. Bliss N Eso still bang, but I’m a bit old for posters.” Derek headed for the TV. “Grab a t-shirt from the wardrobe if you want.”
Mara hesitated.
“I’ll do this.” He covered his eyes with a palm.
Smiling, Mara took a plain black t-shirt from the top of a pile. It smelled like Derek, soft and warm. She’d always loved wearing his clothes.
He loves it too. You don’t want to give him the wrong idea.
She dismissed the voice. Despite her best efforts, she and Derek were lovers again. His seeing her in his t-shirt wasn’t going to make much of a difference. She shimmied out of her clothes and pulled the cotton tee over her head. It hugged her body like its owner, and she fought to keep herself from smiling. “Done.”
Derek lowered his hand. His smile at seeing her in his clothes flayed her insides.
“This doesn’t mean anything?”
“Okay,” he said, looking overjoyed. “You need to get in bed, Little Miss. Unless you want me to go first and get everything warm?”
She shook her head shyly. The covers were heavy as she pulled them back and she slid into them and waited. His mattress was even bigger than hers. She felt like a tiny doll at sea.
Derek toed off his shoes and pulled his hoodie over his head.
“Derek?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you maybe keep everything else on?”
He looked down at his t-shirt and sweatpants. “Sure. As long as you want to sleep with me? Like, next to me?”
“I… I do.”
“Great.” He bounded to the bed and climbed beside her, wrapping his body around hers. His muscles were hard beneath his clothes, and she quietly gave herself permission to enjoy it. Just one more time.
The opening music to ‘How To Train your Dragon’ played and Mara rolled into Derek, melding their bodies together. She couldn’t see the screen, but that didn’t matter. She was going to listen to the movie and fall asleep, the way she had a hundred times when she was eighteen.
Derek kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m glad you’re here.”
She closed her eyes, feeling heat radiate from the place his lips had touched.
I’m glad I’m here too, she thought.
“I love you, Mara.”
Her heart sank. She felt him watching her and pretended to be asleep, lying still and breathing evenly. He had always loved her. She had always loved him. But that hadn’t stopped him from leaving and it hadn’t saved her heart.
By the time Toothless was caught in the net, Derek’s body was twitching all over. He’d always been an impossibly deep sleeper. She knew she could slip away now and he wouldn’t notice. She opened her eyes and waited for the willpower to come. It didn’t. Instead, she drifted in and out until she followed him into sleep.