I’m met with silence, which has me lowering the phone to check the screen. I almost drop it when I see Hunter’s name glowing before me. Even then, my brain can’t quite figure out why it’s there. Did he accidentally call me? Did I accidentally dial his number when I was searching for my phone earlier?
Slowly, I bring the phone back to my ear and move to the side of the footpath. ‘Hello?’
‘You didn’t check who it was before you answered, did you?’
It’s the first time I’ve heard his voice in three years. It’s like a jolt of electricity through my brain. It’s deeper, older sounding, but it’s still his voice. ‘I thought it was Bridget calling.’
‘Only me.’
Only him. Only Hunter Reed. Only the man who still manages to steal the breath from my lungs with a few simple words.
I gather myself as best I can. ‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’
I’m going to need more words. ‘Is everything okay?’
He clears his throat. ‘Dad got out early. On parole. Today, actually.’
I’m not sure if I’m supposed to know, but since I’m a terrible liar, I go with an honest response. ‘I actually heard he might be getting out.’
‘Ah. Tamsin?’
‘She assumed I knew, which obviously I didn’t.’
He’s silent a moment. ‘I wasn’t sure it would happen. Usually if it sounds too good to be true—’
‘It probably is.’
‘Yeah.’
I watch the busy street a moment. The fact that he phoned to tell me the news should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. Too much time has passed, too much damage done to each other. ‘I’m really happy for you both.’
‘Thanks.’
I look up at the sky. ‘I appreciate you letting me know, especially given how much easier a text would’ve been.’ When he doesn’t respond, I ask, ‘What will you do to celebrate?’
‘Well, the grass needs cutting on the spillway.’
My lips turn up. ‘Don’t go too crazy. You don’t want to wake up in the morning with dam maintenance regrets.’
‘True.’
I hear the smile in his voice when he says that.
‘Listen,’ he says, ‘I was thinking I might fly up to Brisbane.’ He pauses. ‘I’d like to see you, but I don’t want you to feel obligated or uncomfortable—’
‘I want to see you.’ It comes out before he’s even finished speaking. And in case that’s not embarrassing enough, I then start to cry. I try to do it silently, but years of pent-up emotions are trying to escape my body all at the same time.
‘Annie.’ He says my name so gently. He doesn’t need to see me to know I’m crying.
I hold the phone away from me for a few seconds and take some calming breaths.
‘You still there?’ he asks.
I bring the phone back to my ear. ‘Yeah.’ I try to make my voice cheerful—and fail.
‘Good tears or bad tears?’