Little Hill was the name of the cafe. I don't think that I'd noticed that when I was here with Lucas and Max earlier. It made me wonder where the name came from. As far as I could tell, there were no hills around. No small ones. None in the near distance.

My pondering was probably just a form of stalling because I'd been standing on the footpath for about fifteen minutes, nervous to go inside, totally unsure of what I was meant to say to the stranger who'd left me a note. The breeze picked up, billowing the umbrellas over outdoor tables and I finally noticed a few diners watching me.

Realising that it was ridiculous to keep hovering outside like a stalker, i weaved through the tables and went inside, lifting my sunglasses onto the top of my head. The lighting wasn't great, there weren't a lot of windows and the dark wood features made it even dimmer, but the atmosphere was rustic and relaxing.

A bar stretched along the right side of the cafe, so I hopped up onto one of the stools and looked around, looking for him. It was entirely possible that he'd finished his shift. It'd been a few hours since I was here last. But then he came out of the kitchen at the end of the bar and stood still, staring at me with surprise.

Nerves welled as he grabbed a tall glass and walked towards me. "Ice tea?"

"Oh. . . sure. Thanks, um Harley, is it?"

He smiled and started filling the glass with cubes of ice.

"I'm Abby."

"I know," he said, focused on his task. He seemed— "I'm nervous," he said. "I'm sorry, I'm not being rude. I'm just super nervous."

He finally looked at me, set the glass down in front of me and exhaled a deep breath.

"Why are you nervous?"

"I didn't think you'd come back," he leaned his palms on the counter surface. "I thought you'd think I was an over sharing weirdo or something. But I just wanted you to know that your speech made a big impact on me. It was. . . inspiring."

"That's not weird," I said, running my fingers through the circle of liquid that had pooled around the bottom of the glass. "That's brave. I loved your note. I have no idea what I'm doing here but, I felt like I needed to come back and say thank you."

He locked eye contact with me for a minute and a tense beat passed as he smiled. And then he lightly laughed. "I think your brother was flirting with me this morning."

"I am so sorry if that made you uncomfortable. Lucas is not. . . he's a breed of his own."

He shrugged a shoulder. "Must keep things at home interesting."

"It did when we lived together. But I don't think I appreciated it at the time. He used to drive me insane. Max and I got along a lot better when we were teenagers."

"And you're all the same age," he thought aloud, lowering his elbows onto the surface now, so that he was closer to me than before. "That had to have been fun right? Living with siblings who could basically be your friend group? My brother and I are six years apart and we were never close growing up."

A sip of ice tea cooled my throat and I set the glass down. "It's a case by case situation I think. Yeah, for sure we had so much fun and we shared a big group of friends but there were times when Lucas was so in my business that it would make me mental and we'd have screaming fights and that sort of thing."

"Why was he like that?"

"Why was Lucas in my business?" I said and felt a pang of sadness. "Because he was protective of me. He didn't trust his own kind. Men. He used to tell me that he was a fluent asshole and he knew what to look for. No one could be trusted as far as he was concerned. I hated it at the time, but he had good intentions. He was right too."

"We're not all bad," Harley said, pushing his hands through his thick black hair, pale brown gaze watching me. "I know that's such a dude defence. But I promise, some of us are good. Although, I never blame girls for keeping their guard up. There's too much evil to trust easily."

"I know there's good ones out there," I thought of the wonderful men in my life. Dad, Max, Lucas, Flynn, Nathan, grandpa. Respectable men had been passed down the generations. Father's refusing to let their son's grow up to be anything less than honourable. It made me smile.

"Looks like you're speaking from experience," Harley said, looking at the smile I wore. "Someone special?"

"Oh," my smile became a frown and I twisted the glass around and around in my hand. "Yeah. I mean, it's—"

"Complicated?"

Harley and I laughed together when I cringed. "Uh that word is so cliche. I don't know if it's right either. Flynn was the only boy that my brother approved of. They're best friends and I fell in love with him when I was sixteen. We've been together since high school. He's been with me through. . . everything and I love him. But we want different things.

"Like, I want to live here and he's going to college in California. So that's the first bump in the road. And the thing is, I just don't really know who I am outside of our relationship. It's always been Flynn and Abby and I kind of just want to be Abby for a little while.

"I found that I did so much growing in the months we spent apart but I didn't notice that growth because I was desperately missing him. I have no idea if any of this is making sense. But I just want to continue growing without the obligation of checking in with someone all the time, and knowing that it's not just me that I have to be aware of all the time. You know?"

Harley slowly nodded, a softness in his stare. "I get it."

"I've never said all of that out loud before. I just totally rambled your ear off."

He dropped his gaze and laughed. "Your fine. I happen to be good at listening. I go to a group therapy session once a week. Have to do lots of listening at those."

"Is that. . . is it local?"

"Are you interested in going?"

Was I? Group therapy ended up being one of my favourite parts about rehab. But back then, I'd been talking about my eating disorder, not the assault. Back then, the assault was buried and as far as I was concerned, it didn't exist. Perhaps talking about it in that sort of environment would help.

"Yeah," I said. "I'd definitely be interested in coming along. Despite how in control I seemed during that speech, I honestly haven't really dealt with the assault properly."

Harley straightened up and pulled a damp cloth and disinfectant out from behind the bar so that he could start cleaning the surface. I'd barely noticed the other staff and customers passing by, ordering, paying for meals. I'd been to absorbed in conversation.

"I was nine," he said. "I've had a long time to deal with shit and it definitely wasn't immediate either."

Nine. My heart clenched, I literally thought I might end up in tears.

"I kind of feel bad knowing the ins and outs of your story and you don't know a thing about mine—"

"No, no, no," I cut him off and waved a hand back and forth. "That's not— you own your story. It's yours to decide who you tell it to. You're not obligated to share anything with me so. . . don't think like that."

He did that thing again, where he locks his gaze with mine and softly smiles with appreciation.

"So," I said and inhaled a quick breath. "How long have you worked here?"

"A couple of months," he said. "I moved here to live with my nan. She's getting super old and can't do a lot for herself. Plus, it was a good excuse to get out of home. The family lives in Florida but it's tense. The domino effect of the assault never fully stopped. Did your family believe you?"

"I think they were the ones that helped me believe it."

That didn't make a lot of sense when I said it out loud, but he must have understood because he nodded.

"I'm not that fortunate."

"They still don't believe you?"

"Doubt they ever will. It's golden boy big brother's word against mine."

"Your— your brother?"

"Oh," he pushed his hair off his face. "No. Not my brother. His best friend."

Saying sorry didn't help, I knew that. So I said nothing and instead, put a hand on top of his to show him that I understood the burden of sexual assault, the burden of being changed forever, the burden of secrecy and internal pain and conflict. I knew it all. What I didn't know, was the hurt of family disregarding your story and refusing to believe it.

Mom, dad, Lucas, Max, everyone had accepted what I said without hesitation and I wondered if I'd taken that for granted. It should have occurred to me that so many people would have to deal with the pressures of doubtful family members. It was gut wrenching.

After a moment, I pulled my hand back and felt warmth in my cheeks when Harley watched me, curious. He went to the other side of the bar and came back with a note pad and pen.

"Can I have your number?" He said and I stilled. "To text you about the group therapy."

"Oh, of course!"

I wrote it down and he pocketed it. "I should get back to work before I get into trouble," he said.

"I'm sorry for keeping you."

"No," he smiled, a bigger one than I'd seen before. "Don't be. It made my afternoon talking to you."

"Me too."

We said our goodbyes and I left to go home. As I was getting out of the cab outside the apartment, my phone dinged.

It's Harley. Really was so good talking to you. Group therapy Wednesday at 9am. It's at the library on 9th. (Only free venue since it's non profit) I'll meet you out front?

Sounds good. Was nice talking to you too.

My phone felt heavier than usual in my pocket when I reached the front door. There was a sense of guilt which was silly because, I'd done nothing wrong. Still, the fact that I wouldn't want to tell Flynn about Harley, made me feel slimy.

Inside, it was silent. Dead silent. From the door, I could see that the couch was on its side and panic ripped through me.

"Lucas?! Max?!"

I ran the few steps down the short corridor and saw that the table was on its side too. It looked like someone had raided the house and my heart was hammering to the point that I thought I would pass out until I noticed the blanket draping across the hall door and the cardboard laid across the patio sliding door, which was open.

"What the—"

Suddenly Lucas sprung up from behind the couch and started shooting little foam bullets at me and screaming like he was on the frontline of a war.

"Boom. Gotcha bitch."

"What is going on in here?"

Max stood up beside Lucas with his own nerf gun, Amalia appeared with one too but she was behind the table.

"We're having a nerf war," she said, lifting a pair of glasses onto the top of her head. "I suggest wearing shades because I took one to the eye and it hurts, bad."

Max pouted at her. "I'm sorry baby."

Lucas bent down, grabbed another gun and waved it at me. "You in?"

"This was your idea, wasn't it?"

"Fuck yeah, who else would think of something this cool?"

I laughed and leaned across the sofa to take the gun and a bucket of bullets from him.

"You're on my team," Amalia said, waving me over.

There was already a pair of shades on my head, so I slipped them on and manoeuvred over the furniture so that I could settle in behind her base. Even I had to admit, it was a cool idea. Amalia had built a barricade around the table, blankets encased the edges and she had a clear path to the next base which was the patio outside, where, no doubt, a bunch of bullets had gone over the railing already.

"Alright," Lucas shouted. I couldn't see him because I was ducked down for cover but I could imagine him pointing and giving his speech with authority. "Rules are, there are no rules."

"There are some," max interrupted. "Both teams can call for a bullet retrieval break and everyone has to cease fire while we restock."

"Yeah whatever," Lucas said. "Other than that, we're out for blood. Last man standing. Survival of the fittest."

Being careful, I peeped over the table so that I could see him and said, "calm down, Braveheart."

He aimed his gun and shot me in the forehead.

"Ow!"

"I'm an exceptional aim. Never miss."

"Oh it is on!" I said and sprung up, unloading a quick round at his chest before he fell to the floor and joined Max in hiding.

The war went on for a few minutes, Amalia and I peeping around the edges and over the table until we caught one of the boys doing the same and then we fired. At one point Amalia crept out of the base and crawled along the floor until she was right beside the sofa and then she stood up and open fired at the boys who were lying on the floor screaming and behaving like babies.

Lucas and Max called for a bullet retrieval break so that they could collect some ammunition from around the living room. But Amalia and I had taken turns at doing that in secret while the other person distracted the boys, so we had a ton of bullets, meaning they wouldn't find a whole lot. We stayed hidden and quietly giggled while they walked around, confused.

"What the fuck," Lucas mumbled. "There should be heaps more out here."

"Can I tell you something?" I whispered to Amalia. We were on our stomachs, heads turned toward each other. She nodded. "I met a guy today."

Her brows rose.

"A sexual assault survivor. He thanked me for the speech that I gave in court and said it inspired him."

"That's so sweet," she whispered, excitement in her soft tone.

"Yeah, but. . . I thought he was cute."

She pursued her lips in confusion.

"I haven't thought anyone was cute since Flynn. I feel. . . bad."

"You thought he was cute," she whispered. "You didn't bang him. You have nothing to feel guilty for. Besides, you and Flynn aren't dating right now, right?"

"Well, no. But it's not the sort of 'seeing other people' not dating. It's just not dating."

Amalia tucked her hair behind her ear. "Yeah I get that but look, the universe works in strange ways. You know? You can't control who walks into your life and when."

"Ugh, I don't even know what I'm talking about anyway. Flynn and I broke up so that I could be alone and figure out what I want to do with life. I'm not going to start seeing someone else right now. I still love Flynn. I just feel guilty because I thought this guy was super cute. That's all. I just wanted to vent."

"Don't stress girl. You're allowed to think a guy is cute. You're allowed to do whatever you want."

"Yeah, I guess."

Harley and the cocktail of confusion was still at the forefront of my mind later that night when I laid in bed next to Lucas who was scrolling through his Instagram feed.

"Luc," I said. "Can I ask you something."

He was staring at a selfie of Mills in her bathing suit. "Yeah. . . what is it?"

"Would you have believed me, about the assault, if there hadn't been evidence. If it had just been my word?"

He turned his head and looked at me before dropping his phone and rolling onto his side. "Of course, I would have. Why the fuck wouldn't I?"

"It's just, there was so much evidence. You know, other girls that had come forward and that sort of thing. I just wondered if you'd have believed me if there'd been none of that and I'd just told you."

"You changed so much after it happened. I knew there was something wron—"

"The eating disorder counts as evidence."

"Hardly," he scoffed. "And it doesn't matter. You could have been your usual, annoying, tea drinking, shit talking self and I would have believed you. You're my sister. I know you and I know you'd never lie about something like that. You like attention but not enough to do something like that."

Lucas, as blunt as ever. Despite how he worded it, it comforted me because he meant what he said, that much I knew. How alone would I have felt without people in my corner. How alone did Harley feel?

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If you're still here, I thank you and apologise for how long the updates are taking. I'm super snowed under with edits and the kids being home and life in general. How's everyone doing in lockdown ?! Stay safe fam. Lots of love.

The Summer of '98 is getting published ! Previously titled, 1998 ! This one is about Drayton's mom and dad and a summer that changed their lives forever. I'm so excited about this one ! It's one of my favourite stories ! You can pre order it from Amazon, Book Depository, Barnes and Noble.