Having finished with Patrice’s ledgers, Jess logged into her own bank account. While she waited for the page to load, she sipped her latte. The balance finally appeared, lower than expected, and she set down her mug and clicked on the recent transactions. Double-checking everything, she swore and automatically reached for her phone to text Nick. She dropped her hand and swore again.

In moments of high stress, she forgot she no longer had his number. Not that it was from lack of trying. The first time she’d heard the disconnected message, she’d phoned the boat hire office. Missy confirmed Nick had a new number but instead of giving it to her, she’d only offered to pass on a message. After the sixth unanswered message, Jess called Will.

“Sorry, Jess. I don’t have his new number.”

“That’s BS!”

“It’s not. Libby’s got him on a pretty tight leash. Not many people have it.”

“So, she’s not only stopping Nick from seeing me and his son, she’s blocking you too?”

There was a long silence. “Will?”

“What?”

“You’re his best friend.”

“Yeah.”

“So how do you contact him?”

“I call him at the office.”

“I’ve tried that but he’s not calling back. You need to tell him to call me. He’s Leo’s father. He’s got responsibilities!”

Will sighed, the sound soft and loaded. “Maybe it’s time to accept Nick’s not calling you back because he doesn’t want to.”

“He’s not calling me back because he’s a pussy!” As she’d slammed down the phone, Jess didn’t know who she hated more—Will, Nick, Libby or the town.

She’d tried asking numerous other people but everyone claimed they didn’t have Nick’s number, or if they did, they weren’t prepared to share it with her. Not even the individuals who happily bad-mouthed Nick in public over what Kurnai Bay was calling “babygate.” The town that had welcomed her return as a successful and community-minded adult, instead of the wild daughter of an alcoholic, had now mostly turned its back on her.

Rationally, she knew this was no different from the censure she’d endured from many for being Linda’s child. She should be used to it and not care. But in the early hours of each morning when her resistance was at its lowest ebb, it was always a shock how much worse it was to have known approval and lost it, than never to have known it at all. She ached for the loss of respect, the sense of belonging and purpose, and for the friendships she’d forged.

She grieved for Leo.

Fortunately, when the dawn light came it replaced those unwelcome feelings with the more familiar and far more palatable fury. She raged at the petty-mindedness of most of the Kurnai Bay residents. This situation wasn’t all on her. Other people were involved—people who the town had elevated to virtuous and above reproach. The unfairness of it flared and roared inside her like a chained dragon.