The Complete Red-Hot And Historical Collection. Kelly Hunter

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СКАЧАТЬ jinx me.’ She mustered a smile and then turned towards the building marked ‘Harbour Dance Company’.

      He hated to see her doubt herself. She had no cause to. If the people holding the audition couldn’t see her talent then they were blind. Perhaps he should follow her, just in case they needed convincing…

      No. She was not his responsibility. He would wait for her, but he wouldn’t get involved. He wouldn’t get invested.

      Brodie settled in to the café on the ground floor of the building, ordered a drink and set up at a small table by the window. Views of the pier with a backdrop of the bridge filled it. Sydney always made him feel small, but in a good way. As if he was only a tiny fleck on the face of the earth and his actions didn’t matter so much in the scheme of things. As if he could be anyone he wanted to be… could sail away and no one would notice.

      He envied Chantal and the freedom she had. She was beholden to no one. He, on the other hand, was stuck in the constant clashing of his desire to be his own person and his obligation to his family. He would always look after his sisters, but sometimes he wanted a break without feeling as though he were abandoning them. Even holidaying in Sydney was tough. What if something happened with Lydia while he was away? What if she got stuck in the house on her own and couldn’t call for help?

      He shoved aside the worry and reached for a newspaper, making sure to offer a charming smile to the waitress as she set down his coffee. She was cute—early twenties, blonde. But he didn’t feel the usual zing of excitement when she smiled back, lingering before heading to her station. Something was definitely amiss.

      Several articles and a sports section later Brodie looked up. He’d downed his coffee and then switched to green tea—which tasted like crap—and a bottle of water. A beer would have hit the spot, but he’d skipped training that morning and tomorrow’s session would be hell if he didn’t get his act together. Ah, discipline… it was kind of overrated.

      Chantal still hadn’t returned. How long had it been? Time had ticked by reluctantly, but she must have been gone an hour… maybe two. Was that a good sign? He hoped so.

      The phone vibrating on the café table pulled his attention away from thoughts of Chantal. A photo of his youngest sister, Ellen, flashed up on screen. She looked so much like him. Shaggy blond hair that couldn’t be controlled, light green eyes, and skin that tanned at the mere mention of sun.

      ‘Ellie-pie, what’s happening?’

      ‘Not much.’ She sighed—the universal signal that there was, in fact, something happening. ‘Boy stuff.’

      ‘You know how I deal with that.’ Brodie frowned.

      Trouble related to boys was squarely not in the realm of brotherly duties. Unless, of course, the solution to said boy problem involved him putting the fear of God into whichever pimply-faced rat had upset his little sister.

      ‘Yeah, I know. I wasn’t calling about that.’ Pause. ‘When are you coming home?’

      ‘I only left a couple of days ago.’ Not that it stopped the guilt from churning.

      ‘I know.’ She sighed again. ‘Hey, can I come and stay with you when you get back?’

      He smiled. ‘Are the twins driving you crazy again?’

      ‘No. Lydia’s being difficult today.’

      The relationship between his oldest and youngest sister had always been tense. And Lydia’s mood changes seemed to affect Ellen more than anyone; she was often the one at home, taking on the role of parent when Brodie and their mother were working and the twins were out living their lives.

      It might have been easier with another parental figure around, but his dad was best described as an ‘absentee parent’. Even before the divorce his father had shunned responsibility, favouring activities that allowed him to ‘find his creativity’ over supporting his kids or his wife.

      ‘Lydia can’t help it. Her situation is tough—you know that.’

      ‘You always take her side,’ Ellen whined.

      ‘No, I don’t.’ He sighed, pressing his fingers to his temple.

      ‘You do—just like everyone else!’ The wobble in her voice signalled that tears were imminent.

      ‘I’m not taking sides, Ellen, and I understand you cop the brunt of it.’

      That seemed to appease her. ‘I want to get out of the house for a bit. And I can’t go to Jamie’s… We broke up.’

      Oh, boy. ‘Do I need to pay him a visit?’

      ‘No. It was mutual. We weren’t ready to settle down with one another.’

      Not surprising—she was only nineteen. Brodie rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll call you when I get home. Then you can come and crash for the weekend.’

      Chantal had arrived at the table, and a soft smile tugged at her lips. Was that because she’d had good news, or because she’d caught him playing big brother? He finished up his call with Ellen and shoved the phone into his pocket.

      ‘You’re still here.’

      Her voice broke through the ambient noise of the café.

      ‘Of course I’m still here. I said I would be.’

      She hovered by the edge of the table, hands twisting in front of her.

      ‘You don’t need an invitation,’ he said, but he stood anyway and drew back the seat next to him so she could sit down. ‘How did it go?’

      ‘I don’t know. It felt good.’ She shook her head and sat, tucking her feet up underneath her. ‘But that doesn’t always mean anything. They said they’ll get back to me.’

      ‘I’m sure you were amazing.’ He reached out and grabbed her hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

      ‘Amazing doesn’t always cut it.’

      ‘It doesn’t?’

      ‘No. You can’t just be a great dancer—you have to look right, have the right style…’ Her cheeks were stained pink and she rubbed her hands over her face. ‘These are the big guns too. They didn’t even open up for auditions last year.’

      Her breath came out irregular—too fast, too shallow. He could see her mind whirring behind those beautiful soulful eyes. He could see the doubt painted across her face. He could imagine the words she didn’t say aloud. I hope it was enough. I hope I was enough.

      Instead she said, ‘Some days I wonder if it’s worth it.’

      ‘Of course it’s worth it.’

      How could she say something like that? People would kill for her talent.

      ‘Easy for you to say—you’re not the one up there, putting yourself out for every man and his dog to judge you.’

      ‘People judge each other every day,’ СКАЧАТЬ