Chapter 8

MACKENZIE

"D ad called yesterday."

Kristen's words stop me in my tracks, my hand pausing in place on the refrigerator handle. I spin around slowly, unsure how to react. I hadn't been in contact with our father since his first failed stint in rehab. I didn't realise Kristen had been.

"What?"

Her lips curl inward, mashing together as she looks down at the bowl of cereal in front of her on the wooden kitchen table, her shoulders hunching inward at the hostility in my tone. "He's earned phone privileges," she says, a little more softly this time.

"Shit," I mutter. "What did he say? Actually, no. I don't want to know." My hands go up defensively in front of me.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drop a bomb on you like that." She at least has the sense to look a little uncomfortable.

"Yeah. Well, you did anyway." My jaw clenches in irritation and I'm suddenly not in the mood for my coffee. "How did he even get your number?"

"I called him first," she admits. "A couple of weeks ago."

"So… what? You and Dad are like besties now?"

I can't hide my agitation. Our father hasn't been there for either one of us. He'd left Kristen and Pamela for my mother when Kristen was barely eight years old. I don't remember a time when he'd ever been there for me. Not really. The fact that she's seemingly having casual conversations with him now cuts deep, resurrecting the feelings of resentment I'd once held for my sister.

I was jealous that she had known family, parental love, and a father that doted on her. Even if only for the first eight years of her life. Now I envy her for a different reason.

When I'd first come to stay with Kristen in her apartment, I'd found a bunch of letters in a drawer addressed to our father. I never read them, but I did march them down to the local post office, bought a stamp each for all sixteen of them and slipped them in the bright red post-box out the front. I later learned that she'd written one for each of her birthdays that she'd spent without him, never intending for him to read them.

Maybe that had been a shitty thing to do, but I didn't send those letters to hurt Kristen. I sent them to hurt him, hoping that something in them might tip him over the edge.

I got my wish.

A week later, he showed up here in Cliff Haven on his way to the city for rehab, making a pitstop at Kristen's apartment to let her know that her words had been a godsend. That they made him realise just how pathetic he was.

I'd never admit this out loud, but a part of me resents the fact that it was Kristen's letters that finally pushed him to see his mistakes and check himself into rehab. Not me blatantly telling him over the years that he needed help. Nor any of the times he'd neglected basic parental duties like cooking meals and cleaning up after himself, let alone me. I'd lived under his roof all along, completely invisible to him, my pleas falling on deaf ears.

Kristen stands, shuffling over to the sink with her bowl. "I wouldn't exactly say that. He has a long way to go to earn my forgiveness, but these programs don't usually work without the support of family and friends. And we're all he's got."

"Nope," I say. " You are all he's got."

"Look, Mackenzie." She sighs, flipping on the kitchen tap to rinse her bowl and coffee cup. "I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do. And like I said, I haven't forgiven him either. I just wanted you to know that we're in contact. If you want to speak with him I could–"

"No thanks," I interrupt abruptly.

Kristen knows better than to follow me as I storm down the hallway to my room, but I feel her eyes burning holes in my back all the same.

When I'd first woken up, I'd contemplated not going for my morning jog. I'd even pondered the possibility of a sleep in, but like clockwork, my body had got me out of bed at six-thirty anyway. This conversation with my sister has me so worked up now, I need somewhere to direct this pent-up aggression.

I pull open my second drawer, reaching in for my workout gear and slam it shut with a little too much force. I slip the black and purple Lycra crop-top over my head, pull on my leggings and running shoes and sneak out the front door before Kristen gets out of the shower.

I head for the trail near the river, jogging through the undergrowth until I reach the fork. The left side will take me out to the beach, the right to the lagoon behind the tavern. Today I decide to be brave and take the right side of the fork. I veer down the path, winding my way through it until the salt of the ocean hits my senses.

I pause to catch my breath. I love this time of the day in Cliff Haven. When everyone but the surfers and joggers are yet to wake. Nothing destresses me quite like the seashore, but as the tension from this morning's conversation with Kristen evaporates, a new sense of dread arises.

Not many people can say they've been kidnapped by their ex while out for their morning run but that's exactly what happened to me.

My forehead crumples as I try to shake away the memories that unfortunately live rent free in my head of events that happened right here, in this very spot. The taste of blood and sweat as Ethan's palm clamped over my mouth, my heels digging into the ground in an attempt to gain traction as he dragged me backward.

Sometimes I swear I can still feel the icy cool blade he held to my throat, already tainted with blood. Hear the gravel in his voice as he spat out cruel words, describing in detail what he'd just done to Henley behind the bar at Steve's tavern before opening hours. I hadn't wanted to believe him, but I'd been involved with Ethan Davis for long enough to know what he was capable of. Thank God Henley survived. I never would have been able to forgive myself.

I suck in another breath, willing it all away. I focus on my gratitude. That I'm able to be standing here, free, no longer bound by the chains of an abusive boyfriend.

It had taken a while for me to work up the courage to jog alone after what happened with Ethan. To really let it sink in that he was behind bars and could no longer touch me. And even on the day that I'd finally dared to jog my usual morning route, I'd panicked, hearing heavy breathing behind me, only to turn and realise it was Henley.

He joined me for the first couple of weeks, despite being told by the doctors that he wasn't in any condition to run. He never said anything about the trauma we both experienced. Instead, he cracked some joke about not wanting to lose his Thor-like physique, but I knew he was looking out for me. Just like he had ever since the day we left Coledale together. It's ironic. My sister's fiancé is the only man in this entire world to ever earn my trust.

Kristen has tried to get me to talk about what happened, though her questions have never been specific. She never asked me why I stayed with Ethan as long as I did, probably because she knew I wouldn't have told her anyway.

Whenever she shot a question my way, I clammed up, unable to speak. At some point she stopped asking. Nobody else has ever asked. Maybe they're scared I'll react and dive off the deep end. Maybe they don't want to know. Or worse, they think they already know everything there is to know.

A quick glance at my watch tells me it's just after seven. Harper and I had agreed to meet at the Haven at 8am and walk to the dive boat tour from there, knowing it would take around twenty minutes to walk across town to the marina. I turn, readying myself to head back through the trail the way I came when something catches my attention further down the banks of the lagoon.

A woman stands motionless, her eyes trained in my direction. I recognise her from the pier during my lunch break that day. Gone is the look of anguish she'd worn in her expression, replaced by one of pure shock. I glance around behind me, searching for something or someone that may have caught her eye.

But there's no one else here. She's staring at me.

And she looks as though she's seen a ghost.

Suddenly, my phone rings, disturbing the serenity, and I hastily reach into my pocket and slide it out. Harper's name lights up the screen.

"Hey," I answer, still slightly out of breath.

"Hey, Mackenzie." Disappointment fills her tone, echoes of a crying Noah in the background.

"Uh oh. What's wrong?" I can already sense without her saying anything that things are not going to go as planned today. "Is Noah okay?"

"Not exactly," she replies, sadness dripping from her voice. "He'll be okay but he's running a really high fever. I'm not going to be able to come today."

"Oh shit," I say. "Poor Noah."

"Yeah," she says regretfully. "Look, I'm so sorry. I just can't leave him when he's like this. He needs me and…"

"Of course," I tell her. "You absolutely need to be with him. It's fine. We can reschedule the snorkelling trip for

another day. It's no problem at all."

"Well." She drags the word out and I picture her wincing. "There might be a slight problem."

"What do you mean?"

"The tickets I got were non-refundable and non-transferrable. It was like a last-minute kind of deal. I couldn't pass on the discounted price."

"Oh."

"I think you should still use them," she blurts. "I'll email them to you. Maybe you could see if Kristen wants to go." She seems to perk up at this suggestion, but it only brings to mind my altercation with my sister this morning.

"I don't know. I'm happy to forfeit the tickets and wait till you can go." It's not like the dive boat tour was my idea. In fact, I'd much rather stay on dry land than commit my day to a boat named Two Tanked.

"Please go, Mackenzie," she begs. "I might be a single mother, but you never take the time to do anything fun for yourself either. You deserve a nice morning out in the sun. Besides, I'm kind of living vicariously through you at this point."

"Oh really?" Her comment makes me laugh. "Well, if you're depending on me to fill your quota of excitement and adventure, you're in for a world of disappointment."

"Come on, Mackenzie!" she pleads. "Do this for me then. Please go. Slip into a gorgeous bikini, get onboard that boat and send me some insta-worthy pics. Bonus points if you can get a selfie with a hot dive instructor."

"That is not happening," I tell her.

"I hope you just mean the last part because I really want you to get on that boat. I mean it, Mackenzie. You deserve to have some fun too."

I contemplate Harper's suggestion. I guess it could be fun to try something different. "If it means that much to you…"

"It does," she interrupts.

I suppose I could see if Kristen wanted to join me. It is her day off. And I hate fighting with her. Maybe this would give us a chance to have some sisterly bonding time or whatever. "Sure. Okay. Email the tickets."

"Yes!" she squeals. "Okay, I've gotta check on Noah and then I'll send them through."

"Okay," I say. "Take care of him. Give him a hug from me."

"I will," she replies. "Oh, and Mackenzie."

"Yeah?"

"Don't forget to get a pic with a hot instructor."

My eyes roll as I shake my head, but I'd be lying if I said my lips didn't twitch with the hint of a grin as I hang up on her call.

I slide my phone back into my pocket and glance back down the lagoon to where the strange woman had been standing. She's no longer there, but as I jog home, I can't seem to erase the image of her or the expression on her face from my mind.