Branded Hearts (Wattle Creek #2)

Prologue

T he sun hangs low on the horizon, casting long shadows across our Mitchell Valley farm. The air is thick with the scent of hay and the distant hum of cicadas. It’s one of those lazy afternoons that stretch endlessly, where time seems to slow down, and the only rush is the soft shuffle of our footsteps on the dirt path.

“Oi, Brad, pass me that bucket of feed,” Xavier, my older brother by two years, grumbles.

He’s got this idea that being the eldest makes him the boss of everything. We’re out here in the fading light, tasked with the mundane chore of feeding the cows.

Buddy, our loyal dog, tails us like a shadow. I grab the bucket and hand it over to Xavier.

“You act like you’re running the show, Xav,” I grumble.

“Someone’s gotta keep things in order round here.” He smirks, a cocky expression that’s been etched on his face since puberty hit.

I roll my eyes. The last thing I want is to be bossed around by my older brother, but today, I let it pass. Just then, the irritating sounds of giggles pierce the quiet evening air, and I glance over to find Olivia, my younger sister, and her friend, who I’ve seen around a few times, sharing some joke that’s apparently hilarious. Their laughter, like an annoyingly cheerful melody, grates on my nerves.

Olivia, four years younger than me, is the baby of the family and the golden child in Mum’s eyes. She’s always finding new and inventive ways to drive me up the wall, and bringing her friend along for the ride makes it all the more infuriating. Her friend, whose name I don’t remember, must be about the same age.

There’s something about her, though—cute in a way that makes her hard to ignore. Yet, she’s younger, so I force myself to push those thoughts aside.

I can’t wrap my head around why everything seems so amusing to them. It’s like they’re scheming to crank up the annoyance level for me and Xavier. Classic little sister traits, you know? Always finding ways to do our heads in.

Xavier starts divvying up the feed into the feeders, and I glance over at my sister’s friend, who’s shooting me a quick, shy smile. Her bright smile, accompanied by those waves of long brown hair, catches my attention for a moment, causing something to stir in my chest. It’s foreign, and I don’t quite understand it.

My brother, who is currently lifting the bucket over the wooden gate, grumbles, “Whaddya want, Liv?”

It’s evident that he’s as irritated as I am about our sister’s presence.

“Ugh, Dad sent us down here to help. Like, seriously, as if I’m supposed to know anything about cows or whatever,” she whines, crossing her arms, a defiant expression etched across her face—the epitome of teenage rebellion. Classic Liv.

Xavier nods toward her brand new white Nike Air Forces, then mutters, “Of course, God forbid you dirty those shoes of yours.”

Liv huffs, “Can you just say we helped out to Dad when he asks?”

Xavier looks at her with disbelief. “Abso-fucking-lutely not. Get over here and be useful.”

I smirk at their bickering. My gaze then flits over to Liv’s friend, who stands with her arms crossed behind her back. Taller than my sister, with long lean legs, she’s dressed in denim shorts and a white off-the-shoulder shirt.

Our eyes meet briefly, and I catch a hint of her face flushing. I avert my gaze back to Xavier, who’s waiting for Liv’s response.

Her friend decides to break the silence, and her voice, soft and melodic, carries an air of genuine politeness. It’s calming—a stark contrast to Olivia’s usual dramatic tone. “C’mon, Liv. I’ve never fed a cow before—it sounds like fun.”

“Well, at least your friend here has some brains,” Xavier says, and she smiles.

“Ugh, fine,” Liv exclaims, clearly defeated. She turns to her friend with a look. A look that Xavier and I have been on the receiving end of all too often.

“Thanks a lot, Amelia.”

Amelia. Hm. Even in my sister’s icy tone, her name sounds sweet, feminine. Just like her.

Xavier is busy giving the girls a rundown on how to feed the cows and fill the feeders. I hang back, my hands moving on autopilot as I pass over buckets when needed. Liv, predictably dramatic, lets out a squeal when a cow inches closer to the gate.

Amelia calmly tells her, “Relax, Liv, they’re harmless.”

Xavier laughs, and I can’t help but smirk.

“Easy for you to say, Amelia. That cow is so calm.” Liv almost throws the bucket into the pen.

Observing Amelia effortlessly follow Xavier’s instructions, pouring food into the feeders, I can’t help but notice how she’s a natural at this. Meanwhile, Liv—who has grown up on the farm alongside us—is more interested in playing with the cows than actually feeding them, much to Xavier’s dismay.

I decide to approach Amelia as she moves along the fence. The barn’s fences are pretty tall, and although she’s managed so far, the last bits of feed are struggling to come out because she can’t lift the bucket high enough over the fence.

I sigh and mutter, “Lean over the gate a bit more—it’ll come out easier.”

She freezes momentarily at the sound of my voice, turning to look back at me with those big brownish-hazel eyes. There’s an innocence in her gaze that I can’t quite place. I feel a strange pang in my chest as our eyes meet.

I guide her in leaning over the gate, adjusting the angle of the bucket. The last remnants of feed spill into the feeders, and I can feel a small sense of satisfaction at the successful completion of the task. The cows, content with their meal, continue chewing lazily, oblivious to the minor struggle that just took place.

“There you go,” I mutter, releasing the bucket. Amelia straightens up, offering a small, grateful smile. It’s a fleeting moment, but in those hazel eyes, I catch a glimmer of something more. Maybe it’s relief, maybe it’s gratitude.

Amelia puts the bucket down, her hands brushing off bits of hay, and she turns toward me, her sweet smile unwavering. “Thanks, Bradley. I appreciate the help.”

She remembers my name? It’s one thing for Liv to have mentioned it, but for her to remember it means something different entirely. It’s as if I’ve taken up some space in her mind, some significance. I’m baffled, curiosity now swirling in my head. I shake off the notion and grunt a nod in response, a subtle acknowledgment of her thanks.

Just then, Mum calls out, her voice loud enough to reach us from inside.

“Dinner’s ready, everyone! Come and eat!” Her voice carries through, breaking through the rhythmic clatter of cutlery and dishes being prepared. Xavier packs up the buckets of feed, discarding them inside our shed, and we make our way inside.

Dad takes his seat at the head of the table, and Xavier follows suit, muttering, “I’m bloody starving,” while rubbing his stomach.

With all tasks completed, the girls had bolted out of the barn after their brief stint with the feeding, leaving just Xavier and me behind. He’d exchanged a peculiar glance, but I shrugged it off, not wanting to know what he was thinking. I take a seat next to Xavier. Mum’s voice echoes through the house again, calling the girls down for dinner. Soon, we hear the familiar creaking of stairs, and both Liv and Amelia appear. Liv joins us at the table, yet Amelia lingers at the stairs, glancing briefly at her phone.

“Amelia, dear. Come and eat,” Mum calls, her tone warm and inviting.

Amelia hesitates. “Oh, it’s okay, really. My mum will be picking me up soon.”

Mum insists, her voice warm and welcoming, “Nonsense, dear. There’s plenty of food. Come, sit.”

Amelia still hesitates, but after a bit of back-and-forth, mustering a small, appreciative smile, she takes a seat—right in front of me.

Mum plates up the food before sitting down next to Dad. Just as Mum is about to say something, Xavier wastes no time diving into his food. I shake my head at his impatience, and Mum admonishes him.

“Xavier Mitchell. We give thanks before we eat.”

He mumbles with a mouth full of food, “Sorry.”

I can’t help but smirk.

Mum starts us off with a quick prayer. “Dear Lord, we thank you for this meal and the hands that prepared it. Bless our time together as a family. Amen.”

I glance around the table, unenthused but playing along. The others seem into it, and I wonder if they genuinely find comfort in this routine. I keep my eyes low, finishing the prayer in silence within my head.

As we start eating, Mum and Dad begin a conversation that, to be honest, I’m not overly interested in. They talk about the town, the weather, and some local gossip that I couldn’t care less about. I just listen, picking at my food. Across the table, Liv is in her usual animated state, practically bouncing in her seat as she recounts some drama from school.

“Oh, you won’t believe what happened in English class today! Mrs. Simmons gave us this ridiculous assignment, and I swear, it’s like she’s trying to torture us with boredom.”

“Yeah, because your life is just so full of excitement, Liv. I’m sure an English assignment is the pinnacle of thrill for you,” Xavier interjects.

Liv shoots him a playful glare. “Well, at least I’m not the one spending my days talking to cows. Honestly, Xavier, when are you going to get a life outside of the farm?”

This makes me smirk, and I chime in, “He’s married to the cows, Liv. Didn’t you hear? It’s a serious commitment.”

He shoves my shoulder, and I stifle a laugh. I just love to rile him up.

I keep my gaze anywhere but on Amelia, though I can feel her eyes on me. I refuse to meet them, focusing instead on Mum, the kitchen cupboards, Dad, the bracelets adorning Liv’s wrists—anything but her. This family dinner feels like an eternity, and I’m just waiting for it to be over.

My mother’s voice rings in the air. “So, how’d you all go with the feeding today?”

“Fine,” I mutter.

My father’s commanding voice cuts in. “I sent Liv down. Did she help out?” He raises a brow at my sister.

“Yes, Dad. In fact, we both did,” Liv answers, and I shoot a glance at her and Amelia before Dad nods.

Always so intense, this bloke. He then changes the conversation to me, asking when I’ll be enrolling in the academy now that I’ve graduated high school.

“Sent in my application last week. Should be hearing back from them soon.”

Dad grins, a twinkle of approval in his eye. “Bout time you took a step outta your comfort zone. That’s my boy.”

I give a nonchalant shrug, not wanting to admit how his approval actually means something to me.

As the conversation shifts, Amelia, who has been quiet, chimes in, “What academy?”

I glance at her, and for a moment, our eyes lock. Before I can say anything, Mum replies, “Bradley, here, has enrolled in the NSW Police academy.” Her voice is proud.

Amelia, breaking the brief silence, is shocked with awe. “Oh, wow. That’s so cool,” she mutters, her eyes wide with surprise.

Why is she so interested? I nod, uncomfortable with the sudden attention.

The atmosphere shifts, and I can feel everyone’s eyes on me. Amelia, obviously unable to contain her curiosity, asks another question. “What made you decide on that? It seems... intense.”

I glance at her, briefly meeting her gaze before looking away. “Just seemed like the right move,” I reply, keeping it vague. The weight of everyone’s expectations lingers, and I shake off the feeling.

Amelia presses further. “Do you, like, have a passion for it or something?”

I’m not a talker, never have been. I’ve always been the quiet one, letting the light shine on Xavier and Liv. Xavier stepped up to help out our father with the farm, and I just felt like that life wasn’t for me.

I’m observant, always seeking challenges, and this career path seemed like the right choice for me. So, yes, you could say I’ve always had a passion for it.

But I downplay my thoughts and shrug. “Yeah. Someone’s gotta do it.”

Xavier, with his usual sarcasm, remarks, “Yeah, someone’s gotta keep the town safe, ey?”

Liv jumps in, never one to remain quiet for long. “Well, I want to do something in business. An office job, maybe start my own company someday.”

Mum nods approvingly, then turns to Amelia. “And you, Amelia? What do you want to do?”

Amelia smiles shyly. “I’d love to be a teacher. It’s a passion of mine—working with kids, helping them learn and grow.”

Mum beams at her. “That’s wonderful, dear. You’d make a great teacher.”

I look at Amelia, seeing her excitement and determination. It’s clear she’s found her calling, just like I have. Her eyes continue to linger, and I can’t help but wonder what’s going on in her head. Why is she staring? I shake off the thought with a frown, returning my attention to the mind-numbing dinner conversation.

Mum, always one to know everything, politely asks, “So, Amelia, dear, tell us about school. How did you and Liv meet? She hasn’t told us much.”

Amelia’s smile returns as she responds, “Well, I don’t go to Springbrook High. I’m at a smaller high school, about twenty minutes from town. Liv and I met at a school event not too long back. Our friendship just clicked from there.”

Liv chimes in with a big smile, confirming, “Yeah, it was like an instant connection.”

The girls giggle together, their bond evident.

Mum nods. “That’s lovely. It’s always nice when friends become family. You’re welcome here whenever, dear.”

Amelia’s eyes light up, and she responds sincerely, “Thank you, Mrs. Mitchell. I really appreciate it.”

In that moment, with the golden hues of the sunset dancing on her face, I see her young innocence—a kind of beauty untouched by the world.

She’s younger, way too young, and I feel a surge of discomfort.

Stop being a bloody creep, Brad. The evening air feels heavier, and I focus on the remnants of my dinner, hoping to distract myself from thoughts that shouldn’t be there.

It’s just a trick of the light, I tell myself, a momentary lapse. I shift my attention back to the mundane conversations, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling settling in my chest.

Little did I know, those fleeting glances would become a subtle undercurrent in the years to come, weaving a connection I couldn’t foresee at that moment.