The Other Side of Us - By Sarah Mayberry Page 0,2

pieces.

Nick was the past, a face they saw occasionally at other people’s parties and barbecues. A mistake Edie had openly regretted more times than Oliver could count.

And yet she’d slept with him last Wednesday.

Edie wiped the tears from her face. There was something about the way she was watching him that made the tightness in his chest ratchet even tighter.

“How long?” The question came from his gut, inspired by pure, primitive instinct.

She closed her eyes, as though she couldn’t bear to look at him as she—finally—spoke the truth. “Since he and Lucy broke up. On and off.”

“Jesus.” Oliver took a step backward, blinking rapidly, struggling to get his head around that news.

Lucy and Nick had broken up five years ago, barely six months after Oliver and Edie had returned from their honeymoon.

Five years. Edie had been sleeping with her ex, screwing around behind Oliver’s back for five years.

He felt as though the world had shifted beneath his feet. Everything he thought he knew about her, about their marriage, about himself was suddenly as insubstantial as dust.

Five years.

That was when it hit him—nothing would ever be the same again.

CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS WET and dark and cold. At first she didn’t know where she was, then she realized she was in the car, the wipers working overtime, the road a shiny black ribbon stretching in front of her. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, but it felt rubbery and insubstantial beneath her hands. Panic welled inside her. She knew what was coming next. What always came next.

Then she saw it, the dark mass of rocks blocking the middle of the curving mountain road. Her scream was swallowed by the explosive crash of glass breaking and metal crushing as the car hit, then there was nothing but pain and the realization that she was going to die out here on this godforsaken stretch of road....

Mackenzie Williams bolted upright, heart racing, sweat cold and clammy on her body. The bedclothes were a heavy tangle around her legs and for a few disoriented seconds she fought to free herself before reality reasserted itself.

She was alive. She was at the beach house in Flinders. And she ached. God, how she ached. Her hips, her shoulder, her back...

She scrubbed her face with both hands, then let out her breath on an exhausted sigh. It had been almost two months since she’d had a nightmare and she’d hoped they were a thing of the past. No such luck, apparently.

She threw off the covers then swung her legs to the floor. Her joints and muscles protested the action, as they always did first thing in the morning or when she’d been sitting in the same position for too long. She gritted her teeth and pushed herself to her feet anyway. If she waited till the pain stopped, she’d never get anything done.

It was still dark outside and the floor was cool beneath her feet. She shuffled forward a few steps until she found her slippers, then reached for her dressing gown.

She could hear the skitter of Mr. Smith’s claws in the hall outside her bedroom and she smiled as she opened the door.

“Hello, Smitty. How you doin’?” she asked as he began his morning happy dance, walking back and forth in front of her with his tail wagging madly, his body wiggling from side to side.

“I’m going to take that as a ‘very well, thank you very much.’ Shall we go outside?”

Mackenzie made her way to the living room. The bitter morning chill was like a slap in the face when she opened the French doors, but it didn’t stop Mr. Smith from slipping past her and out into the gray dawn light. Mackenzie followed him, stopping at the top of the deck steps, arms wrapped around her torso as she looked out over the jungle that was her yard.

The air was so frigid it hurt her nose. She inhaled great lungfuls of the stuff and let the last remnants of the nightmare fall away.

It was just a dream, after all. She wasn’t dying. She was alive. She’d survived, against all odds. Better yet, she was on the track to a full recovery and resumption of her former life.

Which reminded her...

She left the door open for Mr. Smith before collecting her iPad from where it was charging on the kitchen counter. One click told her that Gordon hadn’t responded to her email. Again.

This was getting ridiculous. Twelve months ago, her boss wouldn’t have ignored an email from her. Then,