Page 38 of The Mechanics of Lust

I drew a ragged breath and ran the back of my hands over my eyes, wondering if I’d ever stop crying, and deciding I wouldn’t. Fuck getting over shit like that. No one evergot overit. You just survived and found a way to muddle through the burden of grief and guilt to some semblance of a life after. It didn’t matter whether the guilt was logical or not, deserved or not. I’d long ago decided that every parent who lost a child found a way to feel guilty aboutsomething.

Had I been too hard on Callie for things that didn’t matter? Should I have changed jobs when Gil and I first discussed it years before? Would it have made a difference? If I had, would it have been me driving that day? Or would I have been there that morning to remind Callie and Gil to take the present? Would Gil and I have not fallen out of love if my job hadn’t taken me away so often? Jesus, the list went on and on until for a long time, all I could do was try to find some relief in alcohol and being buried balls deep in another man.

Surviving, not living.

And sometimes barely that.

I fingered the band on my wrist. “But I’m doing better, sweetheart. I’m here. Trying for something different. Let’s see if your daddy had the right idea.”

I slid to my feet and winced at the state of my bed. And okay, maybe this thing with Zach wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind, but he also wasn’t anything like the long list of others that had gone before him.

“I really like him, Callie,” I said out loud, surprised at how easily the words settled in my head. “He’s a million miles from your daddy, but I still like him. And I kind of think you would too.”

I lifted the green band to my lips and kissed the wordPoppa.

I had a couple of hours to kill before I had to be at work and by the time I was showered and dressed, there was an answer waiting on my phone.

Memory failure? Don’t kid yourself. My name is imprinted in your arse. But FYI I won’t be riding a horse anytime soon, either. You could still park the Orient Express up there. Have a nice day, Luke.

I laughed because he wasn’t wrong about my side of it, at least, the cheeky shit. Still, I had one more surprise up my sleeve.You too. See you tonight.By the time I got to the kitchen, my phone was blowing up.

What do you mean tonight?

There is no tonight. We talked about that.

Not really.

Luke!

I finally put him out of his misery.Don’t panic. I was invited to the station cookout, that’s all. Mmm. I think I’ll bring a... tossed salad. :)I’ve been having some success with those lately. What do you think?

He never texted back.

* * *

Wild Run was based at a tiny airfield with grass runways just out of Oakwood. It operated seven days a week to meet the tourist trade, and it was my turn to cover the weekend.

I pulled in beside the hangar at eight thirty on the dot, and Gary strolled out to meet me. At fifty-two, he stood taller than me by a smidge, and wider by a few caramel donuts a week from Lizzie’s Bakery half a kilometre away. He had a serious face with enough wrinkles at the corners to show he had a sense of humour and a gruff but friendly manner that made him a pleasure to work for.

“Your afternoon booking cancelled,” Gary informed me. “That means there’s only the one-hour sightseeing flight followed by a guest transfer to Lane Station.”

It would be my first visit to the Lane family’s land and I couldn’t deny I was curious.

“You should be done by one thirty if nothing else comes up, so feel free to clock out early. I know you’re heading to Miller’s. The next booking is noon tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” I said gratefully. “If I don’t hear from you, I might stay the night.”

“Fine with me. Tommy checked in to say he’ll cover me for any search and rescue calls. His wife’s parents are visiting the baby.” Gary grimaced. “If you’ve never met them, that’s all you need to know. I told him he’ll need to make do with the old Airbus cos you’ll need the H125 tomorrow.”

“How’s the search for a replacement going? I know you’re turning down bookings because you don’t want to use the old one for tourists anymore.”

Gary’s gaze slid away. “How do you think it’s going? Choppers cost a bloody fortune. I did find a 2016 model in Aussie with reasonably low flight hours, but the cost of getting it here was enough to make my eyes bleed. The business can’t afford it.”

“I hate to be negative, but can it really afford not to?” I asked the unnecessary. “You can’t keep turning down business. Wait much longer and you won’t be able to sell the one you have to help get a new one.”

He sighed. “You’re bang on about that, but knowing it doesn’t mean I can conjure money from thin air. Anyway, I need to crack on. Have a safe flight and tell Holden and Gil hi for me.”

The sightseeing trip was a big success. The American couple asked a ton of questions, and I was pleased I’d spent a bit of time with Holden’s books. I even managed a couple of Zach’s humorous tales, and the couple hadn’t been gone thirty minutes when Gary called me into his office to show me the five-star review they’d added to our website. I couldn’t keep the smile from my face.

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