Against All Odds

Chapter 1

WARNING: This story contains depictions of mental health crisis such as grief, topics of substance abuse, strong language, and sibling abuse, which may be upsetting to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.

South Africa – December 2022

STELLA

"You better be fucking kidding me right now, Sadie," I snapped as I yanked my aged rucksack from the conveyor belt at baggage claim. "Because I know you are not telling me this after two days of travelling just to get to your wedding."

There was an iota of hesitation on the other end of the line, and I fought the urge to grind my teeth, knowing the crown on one of my molars had cracked and I sure as hell couldn't fork out the money for a dentist.

The backpack weighed a ton, and I was exhausted from hours spent in an economy-class flight. Perspiration drenched the thermals I was wearing under my thick coat—certainly not adequate clothing to be wearing smack bang in the middle of a South African summer.

"Look," Sadie huffed, and I could almost envision my best friend plunking her hands on her hips, "you are heading down here anyway, Stels, and were going to drive, so it only seemed logical-"

"I do not see any logic in driving down to Port Alfred with my ex," I told her dryly. I adjusted my smaller backpack more comfortably on my shoulders and pushed through the hordes of people.

"Come on, it's been- what? Six years?" Sadie hedged in a placating voice.

I bristled. I was exhausted- if the flight from Ulaanbaatar to Johannesburg (including the two layovers in-between) hadn't drained my energy, the seven-day dog sledding excursion through blizzards certainly had. I needed a bed, not a text message from the bride-to-be informing me I had to drive my ex eleven hours to a wedding.

"I don't care if it's been a damn millennium, Sadie. You know this is wrong. You know things ended badly- he hates me. I don't even know why he would agree to this. I haven't spoken to him in years- he blocked me from everything when I left."

I paused my diatribe and bent to fix my Ugg boot. Christ, I was hot. I needed to get to a store. Other than my bridesmaid dress, my luggage bore mostly clothing suitable to a harsh winter in Mongolia. Not the first time I was amazed at my piss-poor planning. What had gone through my mind to conceive it a good idea to travel straight to Johannesburg?

Sweating profusely, I stripped, peeling away my thick snow jacket and then the chunky, woollen jersey underneath until I remained only in filthy white thermals and tight jeans.

"Funny, he said that he knew you were in Mongolia," Sadie mused, then tutted dismissively. "You'll be doing us a huge favour. Nobody else is driving down- you know Kills has issues with flying- and you are the only guests landing in Jo'burg. It's not his fault his wallet got stolen and his South African driver's licence expired."

I snorted at that, instinctively shoving my backpack into the basket before me where I could monitor it securely. I didn't care if my money was stolen, but without my passport or my DSLR camera I would be, literally, without a paycheque.

"So, he unblocked me and is stalking my social media. That's just peachy." I glanced about the area, checking for the signs to the arrival's hall, and continued quickly down the passage. "What does his fiancée have to say about this little road trip I am about to take him on? Amethyst, or whatever her name is."

"Amber," Sadie corrected sardonically. "And he ended things with her over six months ago, Huxley. Who's stalking who now, hmm?"

"Oh for-" I rolled my eyes so aggressively that an ache throbbed behind my cornea. "You were the one who told me he got engaged. He's your friend, not mine."