Flick eyes me, shaking her head in disbelief. "You're ridiculous."
"She knew my name," I squeak. "And that I'd know where the bathroom is."
"Everyone knows your name. They did well before Max Butcher, I might add."
"Sure. . . still." I giggle.
Carter follows us as we wander down the grass hill towards the edge of the canals. The murmur of guests dwindles the further we go. It's nice to get some quiet.
The canals run all the way down to Stormy River and out to sea. Looking out over them, I take the moment in. This is my favourite kind of weather. The breeze is warm, and the air is dry with a slight crispness to it. As the gentle wind hits the canals, it sweeps the earthy scent up the banks and sways my hair around my shoulders. Searching the horizon, I can make out the silhouettes of houses on the opposite side.
We stop at the grass mound just before the water and sit down. I wait patiently for Flick to talk, knowing she needs to express herself. I lean back, placing my hands on the grass, squeezing the blades between my fingers.
She sighs and places her hand over mine. "You seem really happy."
I smile at that. "That's because I am."
"You need to go see Mum more." She lifts her chin. "Her little girl has moved out and is having a baby thug. She needs to see you more."
Maybe I should get defensive, but that just makes me giggle. "Can you get me a onesie with 'baby thug' written on it, please?"
"I like him, you know." She stares straight ahead. "I do."
"That sounded convincing."
She looks at my face. "No. I do. He's a complete dickhead sometimes. Borderline psychotic. But. . . the other day, I saw a picture of you two on Twitter. The caption said, 'Get yourselves a man who looks at you like Max Butcher looks at Cassidy Slater'. Not the most original of captions, but it suited the image. He worships you. It is so plain to see." She pauses for a moment with her thoughts. "You can change him."
I stiffen. "I don't want to change him. I just want to be there for him and-"
My eyes snap around at the sound of a glass smashing against something hard. Carter is already beside me, not concerned with the ruckus, only with me. I hear muffled growls and grunts. I climb to my feet.
"Stay here," I whisper to Flick before walking back up the bank and around the front of the house. Carter speaks into his chest microphone, ordering for back up. He's in my shadow. His feet basically hit mine as I walk, he is that close. Which should warn me to be cautious, but I want to know what’s going on.
Rounding the side of the building, I find Xander pinning another man to the floor, pummelling his head into the aggregate driveway. The man swings back. As I catapult forward, intent on pulling Xander away, I'm swept backwards by strong arms around my middle.
"That would be a very silly idea, Miss Slater," Carter states, carrying me back a few steps. "I will take care of this."
Two guards appear beside me, another on the other side of the driveway. I hear a female growling and turn to see a man holding Stacey back from entering the fight. She is ready to dive in to protect her best friend.
Carter walks towards Xander as he rolls around on the floor. He's now on his back with the other man on top. Casually, a guard blocks the front door while another stands staunchly near the side entry, ushering away a few prying guests.
Carter stops beside the boys as they fight. "That's enough, Xander." He grabs hold of the black-haired man on top, lifting him easily and throwing him away.
The man collects himself. Wipes his bloody jaw. "You're fucking insane."
I take a step closer, my hands shaking for some reason. "What happened?"
"You!" He points at me and I step backwards instinctively. "You're the fucking problem. They have all gone mad. I just said that you're cute and he fucking started swinging at me."
My breath catches. "What?"
Xander stumbles to his feet. His costume makeup is all smeared around his face, making his expression seem crazed. He dives towards the man again, but when Carter catches the back of his shirt, he whirls around and starts swinging at him instead. I stare, my mouth agape. My back and neck suddenly turn rigid and uncomfortable, like a twisted rope.
Carter fends off Xander's advances, blocking his punches with his palms.
The youngest Butcher boy stops abruptly. Sways in place.
Holding out his arms, he shouts, "Isn't this what they want, Carter?" Advancing on him again, his fist connects with Carter's jaw. Carter steps back, allowing the attack but blocking most of what's thrown his way. I'm sure he could push Xander to the ground if he chose to. But he doesn't.