Page 6 of Finding Us
I reluctantly take the card from my dad’s hand and slip it into my pocket. I know he won’t let me leave without it. “I love you,” I say, giving him one last hug. I can already feel the tears stinging the back of my eyes, and I haven’t even said goodbye to my mum yet.
“I love you too. Your mum and I will fly down in a couple of weeks to celebrate your birthday with you.”
“Okay.”
The tears are already streaming down my mother’s face as I move to her. “Don’t cry, Mum,” I say, choking on my words. “You and dad are going to have a wonderful time travelling the world. You deserve this … you’ve dedicated your life to raising us, it’s your turn to live yours now.”
“It’s just …” she sobs, holding me tighter, “it was hard enough losing Connor last year, I’m not ready to lose you too.”
“You haven’t lost either of us, Mum,” Connor says, wrapping his arms around us both, making it a group hug. “We are only a short plane ride away. We’ll come visit and promise to be back for all the holidays.”
My mum raises her face and looks up at Connor. “Look after your little sister.”
“Always, Mum, always.”
By some grace of God, I manage to keep it together, but the moment we pull away from the house, I bury my head in my hands and openly weep.
“Hey,” Connor says, reaching over the centre console to place his hand on my knee. “Don’t cry, Jaz, you know I can’t stand it when you do. We’re going to have the best time in Sydney … and since Cassandra thinks you’re destined to become an old maid, I might even let you get a cat.”
“You heard that did you?”
“Yes,” he answers with a chuckle.
Chapter3
Jacinta
It’s dark by the time we pull into the underground parking garage at the apartment complex.I’m beat.The drive between Sydney and Melbourne is eight hours, but with food stops and bathroom breaks, it took us over ten.
Connor did most of the driving, only letting me take over for a small amount of time on the straight open road. He was just being his usual protective self, but I’ve been driving myself around for almost three years now. The traffic in Melbourne’s city centre, with the trams and those stupid hook turns, is a nightmare. If I can survive that without incident, I must be doing all right.
When I graduated high school, my parents bought me a sleek, black convertible BMW—I love my car. There’s nothing like driving around on a hot summer’s day with the top down and the wind in your hair.
My life is such a contrast to the one I once lived with my real father. My stepfather was born into money, and he not only spoils me, but he makes sure my mum never goes without. She has all the beautiful things she deserves, and I love that for her.
We live in a huge house situated on two acres of perfectly manicured land on the outskirts of the city. The home has eight bedrooms and nine bathrooms. My walk-in closet alone is larger than my childhood bedroom, and it’s full of designer clothes and shoes, not hand-me-downs like I once wore. We eat out all the time at posh restaurants and I have a generous allowance, but I’m sensible with money. I’m nothing like Cassie. She blows through her allowance like there’s no tomorrow. Her reckless ways are geared more towards lashing out at her parents for their neglect, rather than anything else.
My sperm donor never gave Mum money to put towards clothes, and eating out was something we didn’t do. The first time I had MacDonald’s was when Brooke bought it for me—I was twelve years old. Our old place was a small, run-down two-bedroom house in the suburbs. The furniture was all second-hand, but Mum did her best to keep it looking nice, making the most of what we had, but I know it was hard for her.
My father had a decent job, but drank a lot. I presume that’s where most of his wages went. Even the housekeeping allowance he gave her was only enough to buy the bare essentials. She used to have to show him the receipts so he could account for every cent she spent.Such an arsehole!
I’m glad Mum’s life is better now. After everything she endured at the hands of that man, she deserves every ounce of happiness. The privileged lifestyle she lives with her new husband isn’t what’s important—the love and respect he showers her with is all she’s ever wanted.
“Why don’t you head upstairs and have a shower, I’ll unpack the car?” Connor says, popping the boot.
“Nice try … I’m helping, I’ll shower once we’re done.”
His lips thin. “Fine.”
I nudge his shoulder with mine when I meet him at the rear of the vehicle. “Stop sulking, I’m more than capable of helping.”
“Take the light stuff then,” he says, picking up one of the smaller boxes and handing it to me.
I love how he looks after me, but there’s no way I’m letting him do this on his own. “Put the other one on top, I can carry two.”
He rolls his eyes, but does as I ask.
Connor is balancing two boxes with one arm and rolling my large suitcase with his other hand as we head towards the lift.
