Page 54 of Craving the Edge

My mind had gone blank, full of static. White noise.

Declan parked in a near-empty carp park and cut the engine. He got out walked around to my side, but I’d already opened the door. He didn’t try to help me out, just waited for me to stand on the footpath beside him so he could lock the doors.

We went into the diner. The blast of warm air, and the scent of coffee and fried food, was a shock after the smoky cold outside. Fluorescent lights beat down on the lino floor and red vinyl booths. It felt like another planet, a piece of stylised America in an inner city Australian suburb.. He steered me towards a booth at the back, away from the handful of people seated by the main counter.

I slid into the booth and Declan sat opposite. The quiet stretched and I fiddled with the laminated menu on the table. Then, he reached out and covered my hand with his. His fingers were warm, his palm slightly rough. He didn’t say anything, he just held my hand.

I didn’t pull away. I didn’t have the energy, but more than that, I didn’t have the desire. The simple sensation of his hand holding mine was a quiet, undeniable statement. He said he’d protect me, he said he had my back, and when my life had turned into a literal dumpster fire, he’d shown up.

It was the one thing I never saw coming.

A young woman with tired eyes and a stained apron came to the table, her notepad held ready.

Declan didn’t look at the menu. “Two coffees, please. One bacon and eggs. Extra bacon. And some pancakes.”

The woman nodded, scribbled the order, and shuffled away.

The silence between us returned, heavier this time. It buzzed with all the things we weren’t saying. The lie about Sydney was still there, a bitter pill I hadn’t swallowed. My anger hadn’t vanished, it’d just been smothered by smoke and shock.

I turned my head. Outside, a fine rain had begun to drift down. The streetlights bled into soft, fuzzy halos. A tram rumbled into view, its single headlight cutting through the gloom.

Declan’s thumb moved, a slow stroke across the back of my hand. We were a mess. He’d lied to me. I had every reason to pull my hand away, to walk out of the diner and never look back, but I didn’t.

For now, there was just the rain, the empty street, and the undeniable warmth of his hand holding mine while my world burned.

CHAPTER 19

CHAR

The waitress returned. She slid two thick, white ceramic mugs onto the table with a clatter. She didn’t say a word. She just turned and walked away, disappearing behind the stainless-steel counter. She hadn’t even glanced at Declan. I found the woman’s complete indifference comforting.

I let go of Declan’s hand and wrapped both of mine around the warm mug. The heat soaked into my skin and I brought the mug closer.

I hated coffee. I hated the way people acted like it was a personality trait. I just wanted to hold on to something real. I stared into the black liquid, my own exhausted face reflected back at me.

“I take it you never heard back from Gary,” Declan said.

I finally looked at him. His green eyes were fixed on me.

“No,” I said.

“What’s his deal?”

“He was an amateur boxer, a long time ago,” I explained. “He bought Fighter’s Edge as some kind of lifestyle investment. A place to sink a few beers with his mates and talk about the old days.” I snorted. “He just treated the gym like a personal hangout, not a business. He never once took it seriously.”

Declan didn’t offer any commentary. He just listened.

“When I started, the place was a wreck. The equipment was broken, the books were a mess, profits were in the red because he let everyone get away without paying their fees.” I shook my head. “He wasn’t a bad boss. I mean, he wasn’t malicious, just completely useless. He’d disappear for days, leaving me to deal with everything. The rowdy fighters, the suppliers, his debts, the lot.”

I fell silent, tracing the rim of my mug. The ceramic was starting to cool.

“So I fixed it. I brought in freelance trainers who rented the space. Started morning bootcamps, women’s self-defence classes. Social media. Negotiated for better equipment. I made it profitable.” An ache spread through my chest. “It was mine. His name was on the paperwork, but I built it into what it was. It felt like mine.”

I took a breath. “A few weeks ago I finally got access to the accounts and I’d been cleaning them up. There were a lot of mistakes, missing money, invoices that didn’t exist. And after you arrived, Gary started acting weird. He wasn’t around anymore. I’d asked him to stay away, because he’d make a scene…” I sighed. “He wanted to capitalise on the paparazzi… I talked him out of it. In hindsight, it was too easy. I realised something was up a week ago, so I tried to track him down. I called every pub he frequented, every promoter I could think of, his bookie… No one had seen him, but one guy said he’d borrowed money…” I didn’t finish, because it was clear where the story ended. He’d known I’d find out about his shady loan sooner rather than later and did a runner.

I pushed the mug away. “I’m so stupid. I’m angry at myself for fighting so hard to protect something its own owner couldn’t give two shits about.”

“I watched Ironbound burn,” Declan murmured. “Just like you did this morning. I stood across the street and just watched it go. The owners owed money, too. I’m sorry, Char. I should’ve told you the truth about my hand the moment I heard about it. I was an idiot who wanted to protect you from the world I thought you hated. I should’ve helped you with Fighter’s Edge. I should’ve done something when you told me about Gary.”