Page 67 of Adrift Without You
“It doesn’t have to be the end; it can just be a trial separation. Be on your own for a while so you can think things through objectively. See how you feel when you’re not with either of them. One of the best things about you is your loyalty, but sometimes you put that above your own needs. And you’ll never be happy if you do that.”
“What, so the answer is to be a selfish prick?”
“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it.” Stacey tilts her head to one side, thinking for a minute. “You know, I always wondered when Kyle would show up again. You two loved each other so much. He was like ocean waves, and you were the rocks he crashed himself against. Your love for each other was a forceto be reckoned with, but it hurt you over time. And it did seem like the world was conspiring against you both.”
Stacey takes my hand, her soft, warm skin a familiar comfort. “Bren, I can’t tell you what to do. But, in the end, I think your heart will decide. Whether it’s tomorrow or a year or ten years from now.”
I turn Stacey’s words over in my head. “He’s not alloceanwaves anymore, nowadays he’s more like gentle bay waves.”
She laughs. “That’s probably a good thing, but I can’t imagine he’s lostallthat passion.”
She’s right of course. I smile, thinking about the scuffle in my front garden and the fight/make out session in the car park. “He’s got his bipolar under control and his daughter grounds him. But yeah, he can still be, um, I guess passionate is a good way to put it.”
Stacey rolls her eyes and picks up her wine glass. “Bloody hell, Bren, I don’t need to think about you two fighting and fucking.”
I laugh and finish off my glass of wine. I’m not ready to make a decision, but I feel better having talked it through. “Thanks, Stace.” I place a kiss to her cheek, so grateful she’s stood by me all these years. She visited me every Sunday while I was in prison, and I doubt I’d have made it without her.
She pulls me into a tight hug. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be here. No judgement.” When she releases me, she slaps me hard on my arm. “And visit me more often you shithead.”
Yeah, I deserve that.
I take a bite of my sandwich and place the rest back in the plastic Tupperware container, my appetite gone. On the other side ofthe road is the Seaford Ambulance Depot. It’s the third time I’ve been here, sitting in my Ute like a deranged stalker hoping for a glimpse. I tell myself that I’m checking on Ky’s wellbeing, which soothes the guilt and allows me to keep denying any deeper motivation.
Life has settled back into a routine again now; I don’t think of Kyeverywaking moment, and I can push my sexual fantasies aside if I want to. But it feels like I’m trudging through thick mud, my body moving like molasses. I get up, work, eat, sleep, repeat. The days keep drifting by, and I recognise I’m in limbo—caught between somewhere and nowhere. It’s like standing still while the world continues to move around me. Some days, it doesn’t even feel like I’m in my own body.
I think a lot about what Stacey said and what could be holding me back from making a decision. Is it the fear of failing at my marriage? Or guilt because I owe Chris? Truthfully, I’m no longer present when I’m at home with him, and yet I’m not with Ky either. Chris believed in me, took a chance on me, and gave me my start in business. He’s stood by me for almost a decade, triple the time Ky and I were together.
A man enters the depot, and something familiar about his walk grabs my attention. Then it clicks: Nathan Davies. Less than a minute later he emerges with Ky, their arms thrown across each other’s shoulders just like they used to do when they were boys. Ky wears that boyish smile he has when he’s truly happy, and I find myself smiling back.
He looks so good in his paramedic uniform, muscles filling it out in all the right places. “Jesus, Ky,” I murmur, watching them head off down the road. I exhale slowly, trying to still my galloping heart.
Ky looks different than he did a few months ago. Happier. Calmer. Lighter. And I know he’s going to be just fine.
Driving away, I promise to stop doing this. No more watching. No more checking up on him. No more hanging onto a lost life that can never be.
Chapter 37
Kyle
Now
The rig speeds towards Bren’s showroom, my sweat-soaked shirt clinging to my shaking frame. From the moment the call came in, the world began to spin out of control. Sounds drop in and out—moments of complete silence dispersedwith deafening noise. The dispatch man saying the patient is approximately late thirties, the ear-piercing wail of the siren, my co-worker yelling, “Kyle are you listening? 17-D3 and B2.”
I didn’t know a heart could beat this fast without causing death, and my breaths come shallow and rapid. It dawns on me that I may be having a panic attack. How will I get my body to move? Dread rattles through my bones as I try desperately to focus my thoughts. Code seventeen means it’s a fall. D3 and B2 tell me the patient is unconscious with a serious haemorrhage.
Dear Jesus don’t let it be Bren. I will not be able to live if I cannot save him. The thought of never holding him again paralyses me with fear. We’ve already lost the last twenty years. Twenty fucking years I could have spent with the man I love but chose not to. It’s as though the regret of all my choices seem to converge into a single, unbearable truth.
The ambulance pulls up, and I step off the rig, knees almost buckling under me. Following my co-worker, Kelly, into the showroom, we see a small group gathered around a motionless body, a pool of blood fanning out from the man’s head.
“Kyle, thank fuck!”
My head snaps towards Bren’s voice and I gasp, the relief releasing another shot of adrenaline into my limbs. “Thank God,” I say, blinking away tears and reaching out to squeeze his arms. I know I can’t indulge myself further, so I rush over to join Kelly at the injured man’s side.
Within seconds, I’ve refocused, and we get to work.
It’s Jeff. He’s breathing but unconscious.
Time moves swiftly but we’ve got the haemorrhage contained and Jeff loaded onto the rig within minutes. Bren rides in the back with us on the way to the hospital, calling Jeff’s wife to deliver the news. Our eyes connect briefly every few minutes, but I need to stay focused on Jeff.
