A Southern Shelter (Book 2, Across the Strait)

By Anya Forest

He’s desperate to forget. She’s happy to distract him. Can they overcome tragedy to find true love?

Jesse Holt flees south to forget, pursued only by his conscience and the shadow holding on to his soul. Only at a remote southern bay can he find solace, or that’s what he tells himself, anyway. Instead he meets Lisa Dillon, who lives for the day – and the night – offering Jesse a way to shut out his memories, temporarily at least. But Lisa’s determination to live in the moment is just one of the barriers between them, as Jesse fights to break free of his past and make a new life for himself. Without Lisa, who knows only the sun in life and nothing of the shade – or the real Jesse. The safest thing he can do is keep her a distance, just like he does with everyone, or else risk shining a light on his true self. Because when the sun shines on darkness, shadows still remain...

A Southern Shelter is a contemporary romance novel set in New Zealand that handles challenging issues like domestic violence and pregnancy loss. If you like complex characters, exotic kiwi scenery, and stories that stay with you, then you’ll love the standalone second book in Anya Forest’s Across the Strait series.

Buy A Southern Shelter to experience romance on the other side of the world today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anya Forest
• Release date: Mar 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9780473377489

Anya Forest

I'm a New Zealand writer who enjoys creating true-to-life Kiwi characters and communities in my contemporary New Zealand stories, capturing the unique way of life of small-town rural Mainlanders. I've lived around the South Island (and Stewart Island!) with family originally hailing from the West Coast. Each of my books weaves in the southern places that have a special place in my heart, and the outdoor way of life that is such a special part of New Zealand life. My latest book is a time-travel adventure set in Fiordland, New Zealand, featuring characters from the past and New Zealand wildlife, including the Haast's eagle! I've also written several adult fiction books. My "Across the Strait" series is set around a family where all is not as it seems, moving through Central Otago and Stewart Island. My "Maniototo Skies" series is set around the plains of the Maniototo, dealing with the far reaching consequences of a moment of anger, and the nature of forgiveness - or not! My stories have a strong flavour of New Zealand - including the wildlife, the scenery, the music and art. When I’m not writing I’m enjoying the outdoors with my retriever dog Crockett. And no, he’s not spoilt – I’m just very well trained!

Book preview

Chapter 1

A s Your Honour pleases, three voices chorused.

Thank you, Counsel.

Sweeping his papers together, Jesse glanced at his client. The other lawyers were already leaving, and Jesse knew he would have to talk to them later. He shoved the file in his briefcase and nodded at his client to confirm the hearing was over. He followed his client to the door before registering he was now the sole lawyer present. Pausing, he turned to face the judge. Permission to leave the courtroom, sir.

Of course, Mr Holt. Excellent courtesy.

Jesse nodded once, a faint smile on his face. He tried to subdue the surge of victory sweeping through him without success. He grabbed his briefcase and strode towards the door before he turned and bowed. The judge was already looking at the next file, and Jesse pivoted to leave the courtroom. His smile, wider this time, flashed at the Registrar as she walked through the door he held open for her. Jesse walked over to his client, who was waiting for him by the lift.

So I won, then?

It’s not a matter of winning, Jesse said with conviction, careful not to let his professional demeanour slip. How many times have I said this, to how many parents? The Family Court looks at what’s in the best interests of the child. So what the judge decided today was that Aidan needed more time with you, and Aidan’s lawyer—

His mother didn’t even turn up to court, the client said. Shows how much she cares.

Apparently Aidan’s mother couldn’t arrange transport, Jesse reminded him. But her lawyer was here, and anyway, today was only about implementation of —

I got what I wanted, the client said. Just as well it was a male judge. Otherwise I would have been shafted. Men always are.

The Family Court looks at what’s in the best interests of the children, Jesse repeated. It’s not a matter of gender.

That’s PC crap, the client said bluntly. Anyway, I guess I should thank you.

Yeah, I guess you should, Jesse thought as the client walked off without another word. He shrugged as he pressed the button for the lift, grateful the client was taking the stairs. Too many years of experience to let it all affect me. Luckily. The lift door opened and he stepped forward, the sense of victory reasserting itself, the high that came from a successful performance. But that’s what makes a good litigator, after all. We really are just failed actors.

She can’t take her bicycle over there.

Over where? Jesse asked, even though he knew the answer.

To her father’s. The woman rolled her eyes. I don’t want her taking her toys to his place. They have to stay with me.

And how is that child-focused? Jesse asked, dangerously close to betraying his impatience. But I am a good litigator…

I’m not paying for the gear she uses at his place. That’s his responsibility.

Jesse tried again. The Family Court looks at what’s in the best interests of the child. And as Sarah’s lawyer, I’ll be advising the judge that—

Yeah, I know, the woman interjected. "You and His Honour will sort things out to suit my ex. While my lawyer gets railroaded. I know how it works."

That’s not the way it works at all, Jesse replied, glancing at Amber, the woman’s lawyer, who was standing with them. And the fact the judge is male doesn’t make any difference, because the Family Court looks at—

I’m Sarah’s mother, the woman said. Her mother. She took a step closer to Jesse and stabbed her finger towards him for emphasis. I know what’s best for her. I don’t need some court-appointed lawyer telling me how to raise my daughter. She stormed off.

Jesse watched her go and turned to Amber. The histrionics aren’t helping her cause, he said. With me or the judge. But as Sarah’s lawyer I have to put that to one side. I will be recommending to the judge that Sarah’s gear travels with her between her parents’ homes. Obviously. And as for Christmas—

He was interrupted by the swear word Sarah’s mother threw at him across the courtroom foyer. He paused before continuing to summarise the recommendations he would be making and the reasons for them. It’s all in my report. But I’m happy to go through it with your client, if she has any questions.

Thanks, Jesse, Amber said. I’ve already been through it with her, but I’ll have another chat with her.

She needs to look at the facts, he said. Without the emotion. A very good litigator…

Easy for you to say, Amber thought. Try a bit of empathy, rather than the by-the-book phrases, the business suits that cost more than some clients here see in months. She thought of a much-quoted survey that had confirmed many clients felt their family lawyers looked like they dressed for a trip to the supermarket rather than court. Urban myth or reality? Who the hell knows? These days clients are lucky to get access to a lawyer at all, dressed for the supermarket or not. She tried not to fantasise about Jesse dressed casually. And at the supermarket. Shopping for a romantic dinner for two.

She diverted her line of thought with an effort—I’m a professional, after all—and glanced at her client. Who is not doing herself any favours, but still…

Well, Jesse, you know the old saying. When you think about what makes people the happiest, saddest, or angriest, it’s usually their family.

Jesse straightened his cuff as he checked his watch. We’ll be called soon, he said. He looked towards the courtroom door.

Jesse? She prompted him.

Families, he remarked in a tone that could be interpreted in a range of ways.

And she does have a point, about the bike. He never lets Sarah bring it back home with her. Or makes her wear a helmet. It’s become a real bone of contention.

Well, those issues can be conditions, then. I’ll speak to both of them about it. And Sarah. She’s old enough to have more of a say.

Hard to enforce, she said.

Jesse smiled without humour. Isn’t it always? He looked at the courtroom door.

Why did you become a family lawyer? I know it’s unprofessional, but anything to wipe that know-it-all expression off his face.

Jesse’s smile vanished. I don’t want to be perceived as spending more time with one party than the other. I must go and talk to Sarah’s father.

She watched him stride across the courtroom foyer and shook her head. Hot as hell. But with all the soul of a robot.

The usual, Jesse said, after his colleague Tina asked about the outcome of his day in court. He looked up, half distracted by the internet. The bike issue will be heard by the Supreme Court if Sarah’s mother has her way, and as for this morning… He shrugged. You can imagine the client’s views on the Family Court. Just as well it was a male judge. Tina frowned, and Jesse laughed. His words, not mine, he explained. Although I did sound like a broken record. In both cases.

What else is new?

Jesse was about to respond to the joke when his desk phone rang. He grabbed it. As the receptionist came on the line, he held up his hand to acknowledge Tina, hovering in the doorway of his office. Oh, yeah, sure, put her through. He clicked onto a news site. Cheryl? Like I told the judge this morning, I’ll have those draft orders filed by— He frowned as the Registrar interrupted with the name of another file. As she continued talking, Jesse’s eyes remained glued to the computer screen and his mouth went dry.

No. No, he said. That can’t be right. She— He swallowed. The news site he had clicked on drew his gaze, hypnotising him.

The photo that was breaking news, the pose that screamed Facebook, a grab from social media that was now being used to illustrate… He stood up as he read the just-released name. No, he said again. He dropped the phone, gasping as a burning shot of guilt went through him.

Jesse?

I’ll be fine. You’re overreacting. Lawyers always do… It took him several seconds to suppress the memory of her voice. It looked worse than it was…don’t worry, I’m fine now.

Jesse?

He looked at Tina, a wounded animal, his eyes wild. She— He was incapable of saying more.

Tina stepped into his office and looked at the computer screen. Jesus.

Jesse? Can you interrupt— The receptionist stood in the doorway, looking at the phone, which was off the hook. Are you on the phone or not? The police are on hold. I think you should—

Take a message. The managing partner was in the hallway.

They say it’s urgent. The receptionist stood her ground.

The managing partner took in the scene in Jesse’s office in a glance. Put them through to me. He walked off, leaving Jesse staring at the computer screen.

There was five dollars on Table 27.

Lisa finished wiping the steam wand of the coffee machine, only half listening to Nadine. Was there? I didn’t notice. She put the cloth back in the tray next to the machine and looked at the next coffee order. A flat white. She grabbed the filter handle and placed it under the grinder.

Nadine hovered. Where is it?

How would I know? Lisa tried to camouflage her impatience, tamping down the coffee into the filter. She reminded herself the coffee didn’t need to be compacted with so much force. After all, it’s not Nadine’s head.

Well, you were over there. Just before.

Lisa clicked the filter handle into the machine. What’s your point? Her dark eyes met the malice in Nadine’s gaze head on.

You’re stealing tips, Nadine said. And because you’re all friendly with Blake you think no one’s going to say anything.

Like hell, Lisa tried to hide her shock at Nadine’s accusation. Whoever it was, it wasn’t me. Maybe it was you. Saving up to fix your perm, are you?

Nadine flushed, well aware Lisa had heard her excitement about her new hairstyle earlier that morning. It was you. And don’t think you’ll get away with it.

Lisa rolled her eyes. Do your worst. And sort out your hair. Guests at nearby tables swivelled around as Lisa’s voice rose. Great. Caught in a catfight with Nadine and her poodle perm. Nadine just looked past Lisa and smirked.

Lisa sensed who was behind her before he even spoke.

It’s up to you to be the professional, Lisa. Whatever Nadine said.

Lisa’s breath caught. Blake, she said I was stealing tips. What—

She’s just a silly teenager. You’re the one that needs to set the standard, not sink to her level.

Rush to my defence, why don’t you?

Come on, Lisa. I can’t have that happening in front of customers. Get real.

I’ll get real, all right. And leave Nadine to run this place for you.

You were right about her hair, he offered with a smile, but she knew him too well.

That crap might work with Christie. Not with me.

Crap? The smile became a full-on grin, then laughter that crinkled his eyes as well as his mouth. Is that what you’d call it?

Not for the first time she studied him, wondering if she would ever win an argument with him. Yeah, she confirmed. I’m standing here telling you I’ve been accused of theft, taking some big lecture, and then you decide a joke will fix everything. You can’t have it both ways.

Why not?

She curbed her temper, knowing that as close as she was—or had been—to Blake, there was still part of him he revealed to no one. Except maybe Christie. I expected your support, she said. And maybe you should look for someone else.

You pick now to finally get out there and do something with your life? I’ve got the whole summer season to get through.

Your problem, not mine. His words still stung as she reached for her handbag and wrenched open the door of his office. Hot as hell, but hiding behind his charm again.

Look, Lisa, I’ve got a lot on my plate at the moment…let’s sort this out tomorrow, once we’ve had a chance to calm down. You know we’re both stubborn.

She swung around to face him in the open doorway. Must be related, she retorted.

Get out there and do something with your life. Lisa slammed the door of her car and walked up the path to her parents’ home. So says Mr Perfect. I bet it’s never even occurred to him this is the life I want. She made sure a smile was on her face as she greeted her mother. Might as well get it over with. I’ve handed in my notice. Lisa kept her voice light. She opened the fridge to get a cold drink.

But what about Blake? Brenda asked her. And the winery? You know it’s the restaurant’s busiest time.

Lisa flinched. I’m sure you meant to ask about me first, didn’t you, Mum?

Of course, Brenda said. Lisa, you can pick up more seasonal work tomorrow if you want to. But surely it’s more important to support Blake, and his business. If waitressing is all you want to do with your life.

Suddenly Lisa was too weary for an argument. Exactly what Blake said. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?

Her mother smiled at her, the same smile Lisa had seen not even an hour ago. The smile that fixes everything, and distracts people from difficult conversations. She did not pursue an answer to her question. And maybe there wasn’t one. Instead she left the kitchen for her bedroom, wanting to forget the day, Nadine’s spite, Blake’s preoccupation, and her mother’s lack of support.

Where are you off to?

My room.

That’s not what I meant. Brenda faced her in the hallway.

I’m going out.

Where? Brenda asked. Who with?

Lisa shrugged. That depends.

You could give Christie a call.

I could, Lisa agreed. But I won’t.

Why not?

Lisa just looked at her.

You could have a girls’ night out, the two of you—

No.

Please don’t go out tonight…I worry about you. Stay home for dinner instead.

Lisa smiled, the smile that people told her was so like her mother’s. Like I said, Mum, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. She pretended not to see the agony in her mother’s eyes as she shut her bedroom door.

Lisa!

She barely heard her name over the crescendo of voices in the popular Queenstown bar. She raised her glass of wine in acknowledgement, and made her way over to the table where Rochelle was sitting. She had to speak loudly to greet her friend, and she nodded when Rochelle gestured away from the dance floor. They managed to find a small table for two in a quieter area of the club.

Let’s sit here. So we can catch up properly, Rochelle said. Only a slight tilt of her head betrayed the joke.

Of course, Lisa said. That is the only reason. She risked a quick glance over Rochelle’s shoulder before she took a sip of her wine and looked back at her friend, a flush still on her face. Hot, she mouthed.

We might need to swap seats soon, Rochelle said. Since all I’m looking at is a hen party.

They’re looking at him too, Lisa informed her. She wondered whether it would be too obvious to look again. Probably. She craned her neck anyway.

What? Rochelle demanded.

He looked up. At me.

You wish. She tried to keep the affectionate envy from her voice. If a guy like that was going to look at anyone, it would be Lisa.

Lisa leaned closer to Rochelle. He’s alone.

For now.

What does that mean? Lisa asked.

He could be waiting for someone. Or married, come to that.

I was referring to your tone.

Rochelle blushed and reached for her drink. I just wish you’d meet someone.

That is the plan, Lisa said with deliberate misunderstanding.

I don’t mean tonight. Rochelle put down her drink, determined to speak her mind. I mean someone nice. For a relationship.

"Someone nice. You sound like my grandmother. Next you’ll want me to settle down with a picket fence, a puppy and two-point-four children."

Me thinks you protest too much, Rochelle said, a knowing look on her face, as Lisa laughed.

What, because that’s what everyone thinks I should want? I’m happy as I am. No ties. Or responsibility. And the occasional bad boy.

Rochelle’s eyes narrowed. How’s Blake?

And the relevance of your question is?

Lisa, I’ve known you both since high school. I’m asking how he is.

Still married, Lisa said, an unconscious edge to her voice. The great playboy reformed.

There’s hope for you yet, Rochelle said.

Ha ha. Lisa took another sip of her wine. And what about you?

Rochelle shrugged. We’re talking about you.

You’re talking about me, you mean. How’s everything with Nick?

All good. Actually, that reminds me. Rochelle fished her phone out of her bag to check it. She thumbed in a reply text and threw her phone back in her bag.

That’s exactly what I mean, Lisa said with a smile. Always having to check in with someone.

It was obvious from the look on Rochelle’s face the text was from Nick. She looked away briefly and sipped her wine. When she looked back at Lisa her face was radiant. You know how it is…new guy, new relationship…can’t bear to be apart.

Lisa’s smile widened. Well, definitely the bit about the new guy.

Rochelle shook her head and reached into her bag again.

It’s a wonder you can hear it, Lisa commented.

Nick usually texts back straight away, Rochelle explained.

Oh, right. Lisa watched her friend type in another response. Great jacket, by the way.

Thanks. Rochelle put her phone back in her bag. I didn’t realise it would be so hot in here, though. Her eyes darted away.

You’ll have to have another wine, then. Lisa was trying not to look over Rochelle’s shoulder. Trying very hard.

Rochelle exhaled, not even realising she had been holding her breath. As long as I can get a serious answer out of you. About meeting someone. Why don’t you want to?

Like I said, I’m happy as I am.

Going to be a career girl?

Lisa flinched as she tried not to read too much into Rochelle’s comment. She shook her head and pinned a smile on her face. Just enjoying myself. And wishing everyone would stay off my case.

Rochelle heard the polite warning. "Not even meeting someone who looks like that?" She tilted her head.

Sure. The pigs are taking off now. Lisa laughed as Rochelle screwed up her face. They’re starting to fly, she explained.

Anyone you meet would have to understand your sense of humour, Rochelle commented. So I guess that narrows the field.

Lisa shrugged. I’m not changing my personality for a guy.

Something in her expression made Rochelle change the subject. That was terrible on the news the other night, wasn’t it?

I’ve been working late at the winery most nights. And then going out. Lisa watched her friend, noticing the change in her demeanour.

But it’s been on the net as well…and the radio news. You must have heard it, Lisa. About that woman…

Oh, that. Yeah, I did. It’s really sad…but, frankly, you’d think someone in that kind of thing would just leave.

Yeah, I guess. Rochelle’s courage failed her. She took her phone out of her bag again.

You two really are joined at the hip.

Uh huh. Rochelle grinned at Lisa and both of them started laughing.

Speaking of which, there’s Josh.

Lisa looked around. Oh. I said I’d meet him -

Don’t tell me any more. Rochelle gave her an exaggerated grimace. Too much information.

I thought friends could tell each other anything. Lisa finished her wine and grinned at Rochelle as she stood up. But since he’s here now, I’ll love you and leave you.

And he’ll just leave you. Without the love. Rochelle did not verbalise her thoughts; instead she watched as Lisa walked over to Josh, her short skirt and filmy black top drawing several appreciative glances from other guys. A friend I could tell anything to. Rochelle smoothed down the sleeve of her jacket as she picked up her bag and turned for the exit.

Lisa stood at the bar, frustrated. In every sense of the word. She ordered a drink, telling herself that Josh’s bare acknowledgement of her was not the reason for her emotion. After all, it’s only a casual thing. Too bad about Rochelle and all of her moralising. Lisa glanced at Josh out of the corner of her eye. He was not even looking at her as he talked with the group of friends he’d arrived with. Maybe I should have arranged to meet him at his flat, not here. As it is I’m just standing around. She was sure Rochelle had left, but glanced in the direction of the table they had shared anyway. Yep. Gone. Well, I guess I’ll stand here like a barfly and wait for Josh. There are worse fates.

I feel like I’ve seen you before…but I know I haven’t, I mean…

Lisa waited, her lip curled in derision as she tried to cover the attraction she felt. Looking like that, I guess he doesn’t need to worry about pickup lines. She knew it was the guy she and Rochelle had noticed. Like there could be any doubt. It wasn’t like he could look like that and have a twin somewhere. She frowned as he stood at the bar, his words trailing off as he looked at her.

Great. First in line for looks and last in line for conversational ability. Her gaze slid sideways to Josh and then back to…Green eyes. Oh God. Or were they hazel? She tried to make a decision. Or even remember the colour of Josh’s eyes. Josh, who I’m going home with. And can actually string a sentence together. Even if it is to his mates and not to me.

Unconscious cruelty surfaced, too easily. You remind me of someone too. The guy I just turned down.

His eyes—they were green—darkened with shock.

Looks don’t mean much without a brain, Lisa informed him, putting the boot in.

Or kindness, he observed.

Lisa flushed as his arrow hit home. She watched him walk away.

Chapter 2

Y ou should have told us you were in town. There was only silence. Blake tried again. Jesse?

Yeah, well, I’m telling you now.

Come and stay with us…where are you? I’ll come and get you.

No. Jesse shook his head, even though he was only talking on the phone. I mean thanks, but no.

Right, dinner then. What about tomorrow night?

I…

A beer instead?

I don’t think I’ll be able to. Oh Jesus. He broke out in a cold sweat as he realised he was making excuses to Blake. Who would see straight through them. I should never have rung him, Jesse thought, wondering at the same time why he had.

Why ring then? Blake’s laughter took any criticism out of his words. I hope you’ll at least visit your parents, since you’re back down here.

Oh, yeah. Of course. Jesse massaged his temple as he spoke. Like Abraham Lincoln said, no one has a good enough memory to make a successful liar.

How are they?

Fine, Jesse lied.

They’re still at the same place?

Yeah. He swallowed, trying to rid himself of the lump in his throat. You could say that.

I keep meaning to call in myself. But you know how it is…

Jesse made a short sound of acknowledgement.

So why did you call then, mate?

And five seconds later he’s circled back to the same question. Like I expected anything else. Have you seen the news? The last few days, I mean. He tried to clear his throat.

Yes, of course, Blake said. That murder was terrible, wasn’t it? But what was it you wanted to discuss?

It was me, Jesse said.

Jesse, what are you saying? They caught the guy, I thought. Are—

No, no, I don’t mean it was me that did it. He realised how he sounded and tried to moderate his voice. She was…my client. On the news they said—

Where are you? Blake interrupted. Tell me right now.

In a hotel, Jesse said. Here on the waterfront. He told Blake the name of the hotel.

Room?

I’m all right.

No, you’re not. Which is understandable. Come on, mate, let’s catch up over a beer. Don’t hide yourself away.

Jesse looked around his utterly impersonal five-star hotel room. All the trappings of success, and yet… A beer would be good. Thanks.

I’m on my way, Blake said. There’s a bar there, isn’t there? He paused as he recalled the public nature of the hotel lobby bar. Actually, there’s another place close by. I’ll meet you at the hotel and we can walk from there.

Thanks, Jesse said again. Would about an hour be okay? I’ve got something I need to do first.

What? Blake asked, all of his senses alerted for trouble. Wait ’til I get there, I’ll come with you.

Jesse laughed for the first time in days. It’s these business suits. They’re all I packed…not thinking, I guess. He thought again of that terrible day. It’s a miracle I remembered to pack anything at all. But if you want to come shopping with me, mate, then be my guest.

Sounds like a plan, Blake said immediately. Wait for me in the lobby. He hung up.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Blake probably thinks I’m at risk. Of… Jesse ignored the several missed calls he’d deliberately let ring out. No prizes for guessing who was trying to reach me, despite the undisclosed number. He immediately left the room, uncaring of his appearance.

We were meeting in the lobby.

Jesse smiled into the phone. Yeah. He glanced at his watch. In about forty-five minutes. He gestured to the assistant and realised his business suit and smartphone were out of place in the small store. Too much time in the city. He turned away. I’m getting some gear. I won’t be long.

I thought we were going shopping together, Blake said.

"Mate. I mean, come on. You’d never live it down. We’d never live it down." Jesse thought of another thing he’d never live down and fell silent.

Thank Christ you went without me then, Blake said. I would have come with you, though.

That’s what worries me, Jesse said. Anyway, I won’t be long. He disconnected, before Blake could respond, and turned back to the assistant.

Thought you’d be here.

Jesse swung around. Blake. He stepped forward and extended his hand. He tried to disguise the emotion welling up in him, but Blake’s face showed concern. And Christie… Jesse murmured a greeting, happy to see her but knowing her presence would change the talk he had hoped to have with Blake. He could barely look at Isla, held in Christie’s arms. He remembered the last time he had seen them, the celebratory meals and joy, emotions that seemed a lifetime ago. Back when I was playing God with people’s lives. Literally.

Christie spontaneously put her arms around him. He recoiled without even realising what he had done, and she removed her arm straight away. I’m not staying, she said, unnerving him as her perceptive blue eyes filled with sympathy. But Blake said he was going shopping and I had to see it for myself. Somehow her joke smoothed over the awkwardness of the moment.

Jesse immediately tried to make amends. Come for a drink.

Christie shook her head, her eyes remaining steadily on his face. I hope you’ll come and stay with us, though. Have a think about it, anyway. She smiled at him.

He tried again, realising how many days it had been since he’d had a normal conversation with anyone. The memory of the girl in the bar intruded; he took a deep breath. I’m getting some gear. I… He gestured to the clothes he had already chosen, trying to take refuge in everyday routine.

Blake took his lead from Jesse. Right, just so Christie can see me in action, what have you got? Blake glanced at the trousers and open shoebox on the counter. Those’ll be good boots, mate. Jesse averted his eyes from Blake’s perceptive stare.

We had a copy of that topo map you wanted out the back after all. The assistant placed it on top of the trousers. Jesse still did not look at Blake.

Blake exhaled. You’re heading south, then.

I need to get away.

For how long?

Jesse shrugged. A few days. Maybe longer. He picked up the map but made no attempt to unfold it.

I can lend you some gear.

Jesse nodded. Thanks. He started to second-guess his decision before a mental image of the isolation and remoteness he craved pushed everything else from his mind.

Come on, mate. Let’s find that bar.

What did you want to get here, Jesse? Christie asked. Blake has a pack. And a sleeping bag. He saw the flicker of a smile on her face. Have you thought about what you’d need?

Jesse glanced at her. Yeah. I want to get a couple of shirts. And a jacket.

Borrow mine—

Sure, mate. And swim in them.

Blake laughed. I’m taller, I know, but—

Jesse had already moved over to the other side of the store. He tugged at woollen shirts, uncaring of colour or style as he tried to find his size. The assistant hovered, making suggestions. Whatever, Jesse said. Just find me two with long sleeves. Medium, he added as an afterthought.

Jesse. Christie was at his side. He glanced back at Blake, who was holding Isla. Christie spoke to the assistant, pulling out the shirts to look at them. She looked at Jesse; he shrugged. You’re worse than Blake, she said with a smile.

Jesse bit his lip. That one’s fine, he said, indicating the first style on the rack. In black.

Christie held up the style she had been looking at. You mean this one, don’t you? In this green?

Blake laughed again. Just say yes, mate. We’ll all be out of here faster that way.

You choose, Jesse said to Christie. Whatever you think. I want two though. Plus the black one. And a jacket. He indicated the display he had seen when he walked into the shop, overcome by weariness. I thought this one. He rubbed the material of a jacket between his thumb and forefinger.

Christie handed the shirts to the assistant and walked over to Jesse. Okay. She helped him find his size but then saw another style. What about that one? Is that a better weight? She looked at Blake. These are hunting jackets, aren’t they? Which is best?

Blake joined them. You’re not going hunting on the island, are you?

No. But I want this type of thing.

Right, well, I’ve got this one…like Christie’s pointed out. Try it on and see.

I’ll get that one then. I don’t need to try it on. At Christie’s gentle urging he did so anyway, trying to engage with his friends despite the apathy he felt. I thought I could tell the assistant what I wanted and walk out in a few minutes… Recognising the effort Christie was making, and how concerned both she and Blake were about him, he made a belated effort to take an interest and say more than the few monosyllables he had managed previously. This one then. You’re right. He shrugged it off and walked back to look at the colours that were available, summoning a smile. In green, I’m told.

Definitely, Christie looked at the haunted man in front of her and thought of the vibrant, charismatic lawyer who had swept everyone, including her, along—with his charm and intelligence—whenever she had seen him.

I might have a look around, he was saying now. I wasn’t thinking straight when I left.

No worries, Christie said. She took the jacket from him and unobtrusively moved over to look at the thin base layer garments.

Is this where I get jealous? Blake asked cheekily as he walked over to join her. My wife choosing another guy’s underwear?

Christie laughed and swatted at Blake’s arm. Neither of them saw Jesse flinch as he watched her affectionate action. I’m only looking at base layers, she retorted.

That’s all right then, Blake said. Just don’t flirt with the shop assistant.

Christie shook her head, wanting to reply in kind but suddenly conscious of Jesse’s presence in the small shop and the reason they were there. She looked up at Blake and knew he was thinking the same thing. She took Isla from him. I’ll get going, she said under her breath. See if you can get him to come home with you, or over for dinner, at least. He smiled at her and looked at Jesse as he joined them.

I’m heading off now. Christie shifted Isla’s balance on her hip, unable to forget Jesse’s reaction to her earlier attempt to hug him and reluctant to make the same mistake twice. See you soon.

Jesse made sure a smile was on his face as Christie left. He turned to Blake. I think that’s everything I need, mate. The material things, anyway.

Jesse shook his head in disbelief as they walked out of the store together, having arranged to collect his purchases later. Is this what marriage does to a southern man?

You should try it, Blake joked. Seeing anyone up north?

No, Jesse muttered. He debated telling Blake about the girl in the bar the night before, but pride kept him silent. And he’s already concerned enough without me telling him I can’t even string together a decent pickup line.

You know what they say about all work and no play.

I’m not such a great catch right now, Jesse said in a low voice. And I’ve got bigger problems than trying to score, anyway.

Mate—

Sorry, Blake. Just a rough time.

You ’right to head south, then? Why don’t you stay around here for a while?

I’ll be okay.

They had reached the bar. Blake ordered beers for them both and shepherded Jesse over to a