Page 14 of Worth the Scandal
Totally casual.
I spot him—Coach. Dad. Ted Walker. Looking like one of those proud football obsessed grizzled sports icon straight off a Netflix docuseries.
What do I even say to him? “Hi Dad, your daughter’s back in town and oh by the way one of your players has been closer to my downtown than my g string?”
Plan B remember deny, deny deny.
Before I can figure out how to casually re-enter his waking life, I’m ambushed from behind by two thick, muscular arms that wrap around me like I’m a human teddy bear.Well, there goes the neighbourhood and plan b.
“Scar Walker?! No freakin’ way!”
I’m lifted clean off the ground and spun with all the grace of a mechanical bull at the local bar in the Main Street of Dawson’s.
A laugh bubbles out of me as I’m released, heart racing from the whiplash and surprise. I turn—and blink.
“Caleb Farah?! Holy shit. You’ve tripled in size since we were ten. Last time I saw you, you had braces and bony elbows.”
We both burst out laughing. Big, full-body laughs. For the first time in over a year—maybe longer—I feel something like home. My Caleb.
Caleb had been my neighbour, my partner in crime, my not-so-imaginary-friend turned very real bestie. We spent our childhood building tree forts, riding bikes, and stealing Dad’s Gatorade stash. He was the Vegemite to my toast. And now? He’s a whole damn main meal.
He grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You look good, Scar. Real good. Still bossing people around?”
“Always, why else would I be here of all places” I wink.
He grabs my hand like we never missed a beat. It’s instinctive. Platonic. Easy.
“Coach,” he calls out, “I’m taking Scar home. We’ve got about twenty years to catch up on.”
Dad gives him a small nod and one of those half-grins that says I trust you, but I’ll murder you if you think you’re anything more than a friend. Classic Ted.
Once again, the drive through Dawson’s is soaked in nostalgia and tinted windows. The streets are familiar but shinier now—new cafés tucked between old bakeries, updated storefronts. A few fresh murals, Ridgebacks colours proudly splashed across buildings like war paint. The high school got a new sign. The record store (yep, we still had one of those) is now a smoothie bar. The chicken place still stands; God bless it.
“This town grew up,” I say, watching kids skateboard past the servo.
“Yeah,” Caleb says, with a painful sadness in his eyes that are locked on the road. “Some things changed. Some stayed exactly the same, and some are frozen here”
“You stuck around; you don’t post much on your Instagram you know?”
He shrugs. “Left for university in Queensland, came back after. It’s home. It’s in my bones, but it-” He clears his throat and glances over to me for a split second.
“It’s somewhere Darcy loved, it’s where the accident happened so it’s where I feel close to her. I came back to be closer to her, and everyone thought after it all I would up and leave but now I don’t think I ever will.”
I nod and offer a reassuring half smile. I do understand but if I was Caleb and my long-term girlfriend passed like that I’d never want to come back here. I envy people like him—strong.
“So… no wife? No secret Dawson’s baby?”Real sensitive Scar.
Caleb snorts, appreciating my change of subject even if it was not the best subject to change to.
“Nope. Still single. Still a loner boy. You?”
“Same. Tragic twins.”
He throws me a devious look. “I don’t believe that for a second.”
We banter for a few more minutes before I casually—so casually—drop the bomb.
“So… for purely professional reasons,” I say, twirling my hair with fake nonchalance, “what do you know about Kingston?”So much for Plan B Scar.
