Silver Bush: Awkward, #3

By JB HELLER

He was my best friend. Then my lover. Until the day he became—oh hell no...

 

Did you know that a whopping 60% of couples get back together after years apart?

My name is Tilly, and when I was seventeen I lost the love of my life because... well, reasons. We were driven apart, me into the arms of another, and him as far away as he could get.

Six years later, he shows up telling me he doesn't care about any of the things that separated us, or that I'm now a single mum with three kids to a guy he's always hated. He wants me back and he's willing to prove it.

He has no idea what he's in for. My eldest is a drama queen of the highest order, my son is a four-year-old genius fascinated by human anatomy, and my toddler... the sass is strong in that one. My kids are going to show him just how full-on this parenting gig really is.

And I'm going to enjoy every minute of it...

 

 

 

*Please note this series is set in Australia and written in Australian English. Therefore you may assume there are some spelling errors. However, that's just how we spell things Down Under.
**For lovers of second chance love stories, all things heart-meltingly romantic and snort-inducing laughter. Suited to readers of Julia Kent, Pippa Grant, Emma Hart, Lili Valente, or Jana Aston.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JB Heller
• Release date: Nov 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215136324

Book preview

Chapter One

There’s nothing worse than grocery shopping—except grocery shopping with kids.

Running my gaze over the shelf on my right, I compare the prices of the peanut butter. I pick up one that’s on sale and peruse the ingredients list on the back before placing it back on the shelf. Too many preservatives.

I’m reaching for the one I usually buy when a figure at the end of the aisle snags my attention.

Adjusting my three-year-old, Arabella, I lift my gaze but turn away just as fast. My heart lurches into my throat. It couldn’t be ...

I chance another quick glance, and yep, it’s definitely him. What is he doing here? Intent on fleeing before he notices me, I execute a rapid U-turn in the middle of the aisle and duck my head. I grab the first jar of peanut butter my fingers land on and throw it in the trolley without looking.

Ouch! Sailor cries.

Shit!

Sailor rubs the side of his little head. Great, I just assaulted my four-year-old with a jar of peanut butter.

Sorry, baby, Mummy wasn’t looking. You okay? I ask, running my fingers over his velvet-soft cheek.

Yeah, he huffs. Lucky I’m tough.

I grin. Yeah, you are. I would coddle him some more, but I need to get as far away from him as possible. Glancing over my shoulder, I check to make sure he didn’t see me.

Crap. That was a bad idea. A very bad idea. He’s staring right at me—those crystal-blue eyes are bearing into my soul, and now I can’t breathe.

I’m like a deer caught in headlights, frozen against my will. Then, he moves one foot in front of the other, coming straight at me, and I snap out of the trance. Jerking my head forward again, I grip the handle of my cart and scurry around the corner so fast Sailor teeters to the side, almost falling out.

My hold around Arabella, perched on my hip, tightens, and I reach for Sailor with the hand that was steering the trolley, hooking my finger into the back of his little T-shirt and tugging him back down.

His eyes glow with excitement. That was fun, Mummy. Do it again!

Shit. Shit-shit-shit. I have to get out of here. Screw the groceries. I’ll order them online and pick them up tomorrow.

Come here, buddy. Mummy forgot something. We need to go home—now, I tell Sailor with my hand extended to help him out of the trolley. He frowns at me.

No, not at me. Behind me.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention, and my skin prickles in awareness of his proximity, just like it always does whenever he is close by.

Now, Sailor, I say as strong as I can, but my voice betrays me, coming out soft and scratchy.

Going somewhere? His deep baritone washes over me, and I shiver.

Sailor … I plead, but my son just stares at me.

You’re being rude, Mummy. That man is talking to you.

Hi! Arabella chirps over my shoulder, and I curl in on myself.

Hey there, pretty girl, Lee drawls, and I swear my ovaries swell at the affection in his tone.

That’s what he used to call me, once upon a time …

It’s been more than six years since I laid eyes on her. Dad and Trudie send me a Christmas card every year, and she’s always in the family photo. But she’s so much more in person.

The little blonde-haired angel wrapped around her torso like a spider monkey grins at me, and her little boy stands in the cart, wearing an unimpressed frown.

Till, I murmur. My hand reaches for her but stills before making contact. I shouldn’t touch her.

When she finally turns to face me, it’s like a punch to the gut. She hasn’t changed a bit. Her big brown eyes slowly lift to meet mine, and it’s like the last six years without her never even happened.

My lips lift in a smile. It’s good to see you. It’s Gods honest truth.

She blinks at me but says nothing. Her full lips part as if she’s going to speak, but instead, she shakes her head and remains silent.

Right, well, this is awkward. I slide my hands into my pockets and rock back on my heels. These your kids? I ask like a dumb-arse. Of course they’re her kids. I’ve watched them grow over the years on the Christmas cards too.

She swallows then gives me a jerky nod. Okay, so she’s not going to speak to me. Awesome.

Her little boy rolls his eyes at her then sticks his tiny hand out to me. I step forward and take it, giving him a firm but gentle shake. I’m Sailor. This is my baby, Ari, and my mummy. Who are you?

Tilly silently watches our exchange.

Nice to meet you, Sailor. I’m Lee. Your mummy and me are … we’re umm … Well, shit. How do you tell a kid you’re kind of his uncle, but had things been different, you might have been his daddy?

I shouldn’t have come over here. I clear my throat and desperately wrack my brain for something to say, but Sailor saves me.

I know lots of cool stuff. Did you know swans have a sticky-outie peen—

Tilly’s hand shoots out, covering her sons mouth before he can finish his little factoid. Sailor! she chastises, her eyes widening at him.

But now I really want to know what he was going to say, because that sounded a lot like he was about to say penis. I smirk. No, go on. I like learning cool new things.

Sailor yanks Till’s hand away and glares at her. It’s okay, Mummy. I only tell people true stuff.

I know, buddy, but why don’t you pick another fact to share? One that doesn’t involve body parts? I really wish Aunty Reags hadn’t told you that one.

But it’s so cool. Aunty Weags says that swans are the only birds that have them, he huffs.

Clearing my throat, I hunch and crouch to Sailor’s level. So, you’re telling me that swans are the only bird that has a penis?

He nods enthusiastically. Other birds just have a little one on the inside. But swans have a big one on the outside, like me.

I can’t contain it; I bust out laughing. My hand curls around the side of their shopping cart for support. Ruffling his neatly combed hair, I tell him, I like you, kid. I think you and I could be good friends.

I straighten at the strange gurgle that comes from Tilly and meet her eyes—they’re shining. She bites her bottom lip and looks away.

Shifting into her line of sight, I tell her, You look good, Till. How’ve you been?

She swallows then clears her throat. What are you doing here, Lee?

Her voice is soft, anxious. I don’t like it, but I understand it. We didn’t exactly leave things on good terms all those years ago. And I didn’t make it any better by staying away all this time.

Sliding my left hand back into my pocket, I rub the back of my neck with the other. Mum’s getting remarried. She wanted me to come home for it. I couldn’t exactly say no. I’m not lying, but it’s only part of the reason I’m back in town.

Oh, right. I forgot about the wedding. But I thought it wasn’t for another couple of weeks?

I nod. It’s not. She was dead-set on me arriving early to spend some time with her and get to know all Denny’s family before the big day.

Makes sense, she mumbles, averting her gaze. She can barely look at me, and damn if it doesn’t hurt like a son of a bitch. My chest aches as thoughts of what could have—no, should have—been roll through me.

I imagined the day I would see her in the flesh again a thousand times over, and not once did it go down like this. She was the centre of my universe, then our parents went and fell in love and made a baby together.

One day we were making plans for our shared future—the next we were coming