Falling Away by Allie Little Read Free Book Online

And I wonder if I know who he is. If I’ll ever really know. Just some guy in a café who cooks. A guy who’s whispering my name under a hazy full moon on the shore of a black sandy bay.
    I grab both shoulders and feel the weight of him, pressing against my hands. “Not here. And not like this.” My voice is raspy in the cold silence. I don’t even hear the lapping of tiny waves, soft upon the beach.
    “No?” He pulls back, obviously surprised. “Why not, Sam? You want to, don’t you?” he says, as if trying to convince me. “I sure as hell do.”
    I was under no illusions there. My stomach lurches. “Riley ...”
    He looks right at me, hurt. “Okay, okay. I get it. It’s not gonna happen,” he whispers hoarsely, pushing away from me. He pauses briefly before adding, “Raincheck?” and laughs drunkenly into the night.
    A chill rolls over the beach and I fumble for my bag in the dark, shivering. I find it half buried in gritty sand and I leave him, lying motionless on the beach. I push myself up from the sand and wrap my arms protectively around my body. If I’m quick I might just make the final ferry home.
    “See you at work, eh?” he calls as I leave.
    But I don’t answer. And I definitely don’t look back.

 
     
    CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    I fold my arms tight across my body and my handbag jars rhythmically against my leg when I walk, fast through the lights and the crowds that blind me. I don’t hear the sounds of the night nor feel its heat, just the shiver that racks through me, over and over, until I am no longer warm-blooded. I am cold to my core.
    When I reach the wharf the diesel engine of the ferry churns, frothing the water and barrelling it deep. I board in a daze and sit at the back, tucked in a corner where the wind won’t find me. I have Riley’s face in my head; his rambling voice and the way he whispered my name with gravel lodged deep in his throat. His hands. His body. My conflicted desire. From the middle of the bay the lights look like blanketed stars, scattered across the shoreline. But they’re blurry and don’t sparkle as sharply as before. Perhaps the world is fading, shimmering away till there’s nothing left. Just me in a void on a boat in the bay.
    “You okay, Sam?” Bobby asks from the wheel. I jolt at the sound of his voice. “You don’t look right tonight.”
    “I’m fine,” I say without thinking, sliding my gaze back to the black nothingness around me. “But thanks, Bobby.”
    Bobby shrugs and turns back to the water, steering us home through the dark empty night.
    The streets of Tea Gardens are deserted when we reach them. The pub is closed and coloured lights hang noiselessly above the road, intermittently flickering as they waver in the wind. I step off the ferry and pick a route; the fastest. There’s no-one around so I move quickly.
    “Hey, Sam! Do you need a lift home?” Bobby calls from the bow. “It’s late.”
    “I’ll be right thanks,” I say, my feet on familiar territory.
    “Okay then, if you’re sure.”
    I give him a tight wave and hear him closing the windows, sliding the glass until it clunks loudly into place. For some reason I want to run, but I steel myself and continue marching along the river, the black ripples rolling over moonlit sand and the oyster-covered rocks on the shore.

 
     
    CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    I drag my board from the roof of my old Excel in the parking lot overlooking the sea. The beach is waking with the dawn and sunlight glitters the surface in a glowing pool of light. Dew smothers the grass at the lookout, and beer bottles litter the ground in murky browns and green. Only a few cars are scattered through the parking lot so the break won’t be crowded. Not yet, anyhow. I feel hungover and queasy, even though I didn’t drink that much last night. Before it all went so horribly wrong. Ugh . I push the thought away, but not before my wrenching gut knots at the bitter memory of him.
    The high-tide line marks the sand in