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Liam laughed despite himself. “You mean a figjam, Grandad?” At his father’s puzzled look, he explained, “Fuck, I’m good, just ask me.”
“That’s the one! Head so far up his own arse he could see his fecking tonsils. Sorry, Neve,” Grandad repeated.
Neve wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, stepping out of Mum’s embrace, and Liam felt for his sister, recognised her pain, but looking at her, standing with her shoulders back and chin jutting out, he felt a flash of pride as well, and he knew she’d get through it. “It’s fine, Grandad. Marcus has cheated before, but he promised he’d change, and I felt like I had to give him one more chance. But he’s a bastard, and I’m not sorry he’s gone.” She took a deep breath and held out her left hand, fingers splayed wide. “Besides, I’m not really selling the ring for fifty bucks and a bottle of vodka. I’m selling it for five grand and spending a week in Bali.”
“Good girl,” Grandad said approvingly, and Neve gave him a watery smile.
“So let me get this straight. You and Ambrose weren’t dating?” Mum asked.
“Not really, no,” Liam said.
Mum’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh my God! I put you two in the same room! I gave you the honeymoon suite! With the honeymoon basket!”
“Oh my God!” Riley said, then she let out a giggle. “There was only one bed!”
“If it makes you feel better, we didn’t really use the basket,” Liam said. “I mean, apart from Ambrose eating the body paint with a spoon. He said it was like upscale Nutella.” Liam smiled at the memory, despite himself, but his expression sobered when he remembered the way that Ambrose had run out on him without a word.
“He’s a good one, that boy of yours,” Grandad said, over the sound of rolling thunder. “Now, are you going to stand here all day, or are you going to go get him and fix this? Because given the way that poor lad bolted, he probably thinks we’re ready to string him up.”
Liam’s chest squeezed at the thought of Ambrose out there, alone in the pouring rain, walking fuck knew where and thinking fuck knew what—that Liam believed Marcus maybe? That he hated Ambrose, and they were over before they’d even started? The thought of it had Liam frozen on the spot.
“Go on, then,” Grandad said, and shoved his shoulder. “He can’t have gone far.” It was enough to get Liam moving.
He ran for the front door, feet clattering on the hardwood, and was greeted by the sight of Ambrose’s wet shoes, still sitting where he’d abandoned them earlier. Ambrose was out there barefoot. Surely that meant he couldn’t have gone far? He pulled out his phone and dialled Ambrose’s number, but after ringing for a while, it went to his message bank.
Liam opened the door and peered through the curtain of rain looking for any sign of Ambrose, but all he could see were grey shapes in the gloom. Maybe Ambrose had gone to the cabins? Liam shrugged on the Driza-Bone his dad always kept hanging inside the front door and grabbed an umbrella, then trudged down the swampy driveway as quickly as he dared. It took longer than he would have liked to get to their cabin, and when he got there, Ambrose was nowhere in sight.
Shit. He stood there for a minute, helpless, and wondered what the hell he was going to do next. Ambrose wouldn’t have tried to walk back to town, would he? Even as he thought it though, he knew he would have, because Ambrose was exactly that impulsive. He tried calling again, and got the same recorded message assuring him that Ambrose wasn’t available right now but if he’d like to leave his name and number, Ambrose would get back to him. He huffed in frustration.
He stomped back across the property in the direction of the house, only to be met by Grandad coming the other way wearing a raincoat, John Phillip plastered against one leg, and grinning from ear to ear. “Road’s gone!” he said cheerfully. “Marcus called the house. His car’s stuck in the ditch, and he expected us to come and pull him out.”
“Really?”
“Really. Will told him to bugger off. He’ll have to call a towie.” Grandad’s smile widened. “No sign of your boy down here?” He seemed far too cheerful for the situation, but then, Liam had forgotten how much Grandad loved a good bit of drama.
“No sign,” he confirmed, “and he’s not answering his phone. But if the road’s out, he can’t be walking that way, so where the hell did he go?” He did his best not to imagine Ambrose lying injured at the side of the road or swept away by the creek and failed utterly.
Grandad tilted his head in thought. “The dam trail, maybe?” he said. “It’s higher up, and your boy’s probably following the easiest path.”
That made sense. The trail to the dam ran along a ridge, and it wouldn’t have flooded, but it also would have stuck out like dog’s balls to someone who didn’t know the property and was looking for a road. Liam shaded his eyes with his hand as if that would help him see better, and he could make out the stark line of red dirt cutting across the landscape. “It’s worth a try,” he decided.
The sky lit up just then with sheet lightning, and Liam thought he saw, for a split second, a tiny figure moving along the road. “There he is!”
“Well then, let’s go get him!” Grandad said and pulled a bunch of keys out of his pocket.
Liam’s brow furrowed. “But the road’s washed out.”
“Roads?” Grandad’s eyes twinkled. “Who needs roads when we’ve got Adeline?”
Liam’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean?—?”
“The old girl’s made for this,” Grandad said. “Not like these modern cars. She’ll get us there. We’ll rescue your boy, you’ll tell him you’re still sweet on him, and your mother can stop having conniptions about your love life.” He waggled the keys.
“Um.” Liam appreciated the gesture, but… “She only has one seat, Grandad.”
Grandad Billy waved a hand. “We’ll hook up a harvest bin and you can ride in the back. Besides,” he added, “it’ll be…what’s the word? Symbolic.”
“Will it?” Liam asked doubtfully.
