Chapter 5
CHAPTER
5
Sawyer had never coped well with tears.
When his sisters sobbed over a lost love/crush gone wrong/ boy-band breakup, he’d made himself scarce and waited out the tantrums by riding his bike to the other side of town and hunkering down by the river—more a trickle even in winter.
As for seeing Mila cry … it rarely happened. He’d been Will’s mate since the first day of Year 5—though he’d known the Hayes kids for years before that because they’d spent every school holidays at the farm—and with Mila a year younger, he’d almost seen as much of her as he had of Will. She’d trailed after them and Will hadn’t minded, so he’d put up with it too. Mila had a way about her, a quiet inner confidence, that made him feel settled when he was around her. She was funny too and her astute observations about the kids at school made him laugh.
As for the rest … she’d been the only person to see through him, to recognise that he used humour as a deflection, to wonder if there was more going on, and he’d run because of it.
Though he should thank her, because if she hadn’t sown the seed in his head, he wouldn’t have got diagnosed at the ripe old age of twenty and changed his life.
‘Hope you’re hungry,’ she said, holding open the back door and gesturing him in.
Seeing her so upset and comforting her in his arms had ruined his appetite, so the sight of the table covered in fancy finger food held little appeal. Entering the farmhouse kitchen had him stepping back in time to the many afternoons after school when he’d run into this warm, cosy space, dropped his bag at the door, grabbed a lamington and a chocolate milk, and raced outside with Will to play cricket in summer or kick the footy in winter.
It had been the highlight of his day and the one thing that got him through the tedious drudgery of being confined in a classroom, being picked on by the teachers because they thought he was lazy rather than stupid and laughed at by his peers because they couldn’t tell the difference.
‘This place hasn’t changed a bit,’ he said, when he noticed Mila staring at him with a quizzical expression. ‘Brings back memories.’
‘I haven’t had the time or funds to sink into renovating the main house when I’m hellbent on getting the farm stay up and running.’ She shrugged, but he caught the pride in her eyes as she glanced around the kitchen. ‘Besides, I like it this way.’
He’d never understood Mila’s attachment to this place. Like Will, he couldn’t wait to escape Ashe Ridge and he hadn’t looked back. But Mila had always been a homebody and she’d loved Hills Homestead with a fervour that bordered on obsession. Which explained why she’d been about to marry a sleazy older guy to hold on to it.
Anger fizzed in his veins at the thought of Phil Baxter anywhere near Mila, let alone laying a hand on her. Mila may have said it would’ve been a platonic marriage for mutual financial benefit, but he knew Phil. He remembered the way the older guy would ply women with drinks at barbecues, schmoozing up to them, giving off desperado vibes. And that was before he’d overheard his sisters Phoebe and Jocelyn talking about how Phil had asked Phoebe out and when she’d refused, he’d proceeded to brush up against her for the rest of the night at the pub. He’d hated the creep ever since.
‘Here.’ She handed him a plate and proceeded to take cling wrap off the platters. ‘We’ve got lamb and rosemary pies, creamy chicken puffs, asparagus and prawn rice paper rolls, smoky BBQ cheese sliders, turkey and cranberry rissoles, mini fish tacos, French onion potato rostis, and spicy chilli meatballs.’
His stomach rumbled, belying his lack of appetite a few minutes ago, and he chose one of everything before handing her the loaded plate.
She shook her head. ‘I can help myself later.’
‘Have you had anything to eat at all today?’
Guilt flashed in her eyes as her lips compressed.
‘I’ll take that as a no, so I’m not going to eat a thing until you do,’ he said, laughing when she stuck her tongue out at him.
‘You’re as bossy as I remember,’ she muttered, taking a bite of a chicken puff.
‘As I recall, you were the one always ordering me and Will around.’
The three of them had been inseparable in those latter years of primary school, but all that had changed when they hit their teens. Because he saw the way Mila snuck glances at him sometimes when she thought he wasn’t looking, and the thought of hurting her … it broke him. He couldn’t do it, so he withdrew a little, kept his distance when all he wanted to do was spend more time with her. If they’d been different people with similar goals, he might’ve reciprocated her feelings, but with Mila a confirmed homebody and him desperate to escape Ashe Ridge, they were a giant heartbreak just waiting to happen.
‘Will mentioned you visited a few months ago?’
‘Yeah, I spent three weeks with him in London. He’s relishing the city life but he spends a lot of his time at the hospital too.’
‘He works too hard,’ she muttered, stuffing the rest of the chicken puff into her mouth.
‘Yeah, but he loves it.’
He’d always admired Will’s drive. Ever since they were kids, his mate had wanted to become a physiotherapist and he’d achieved his dream by working hard at school, getting top marks, and completing his degree at Melbourne Uni before heading over to the UK. Like himself, Will had never returned to Ashe Ridge, though Sawyer had no idea why his mate rarely visited his family. Sawyer had his reasons for avoiding this town. What was Will’s excuse?
‘When are you heading back to Melbourne?’
‘Tomorrow,’ he said, slightly chuffed to see disappointment tugging at the corners of Mila’s glossed mouth.
She’d never worn makeup, hadn’t needed to with her natural beauty—blue eyes, high cheekbones, heart-shaped face—but he had to admit the stuff she’d slathered on today for her wedding brought out her features in a way that had him struggling not to gawk.
‘You really don’t like this place much, do you?’ She tilted her head slightly, studying him with an intensity that used to make him squirm—and still did. ‘How long since your family has seen you?’
He shrugged. ‘I catch up with Jocelyn and Phoebe a few times a year. Jocelyn works in a bank in Brisbane and Phoebe’s a pharmacist in Sydney. And Allison’s on the outskirts of town, but you already know that.’
‘Will might’ve mentioned Jocelyn and Phoebe when we chatted a while ago. And I wave at Allison when I see her.’ She paused, pushing some of the finger food around her plate without eating it. ‘I was sorry to hear about your dad.’
‘Thanks,’ he muttered, the familiar pain associated with remotely thinking about his father making his chest ache.
Henry Mann had been a bastard to his wife and kids, and the best thing the old coot could’ve done was curl up his toes in a nursing home in Melbourne. Sawyer had been with him at the end, and even then, his father couldn’t apologise for being a prick all his life. Sawyer had been relieved rather than sad when the old man had taken his last breath. His father had been dead to him a long time before that, and Sawyer thanked the big guy upstairs every day that his mum had left years earlier so she didn’t have to put up with Henry any longer.
‘I’d planned on popping in on Allison this afternoon, then hitting the road back to Melbourne first thing in the morning.’
‘Definitely a flying visit,’ she said, still studying him with that same intensity. ‘Do you miss this place at all?’
‘No.’
Short, sharp, to the point.
One of her eyebrows arched. ‘We had some good times growing up.’
He nodded. ‘We did.’
But he didn’t want to acknowledge those good times because remembering how amazing it had been hanging out at Hills Homestead with Mila and Will would also mean remembering how shit the rest of his life had been.
He didn’t blame his mum for not picking up on his learning difficulties. He’d been the youngest of four kids and even he could see Bernadette Mann had been worn out by the time he’d come along. Jocelyn was sixteen when he’d been born, Phoebe fourteen, and Allison twelve, so he’d been an afterthought or an accident.
Even from a young age, he’d seen the way his dad treated his mum—like an annoyance rather than a wife—and Sawyer had done whatever he could to protect her. Including act like a jackass. Maybe his clownish ways had started then, desperate to make his mother and sisters laugh to distract from the fraught atmosphere whenever his father entered the house. It worked on them, so he carried over his behaviour to school, determined to be seen as the funny guy, the popular guy, the joker, to distract from how badly he struggled to understand the most basic of curriculum.
‘Well, if you ever want to take a stroll down memory lane, you know where to find me.’ Mila popped a mini rissole into her mouth and chewed. ‘Though not for much longer if I can’t afford the mortgage repayments.’
His heart sank at the sight of her so despondent and he wished he could help. She wouldn’t accept it, but he had to offer once more. ‘I meant what I said before, Gumnut. Anything I can do, all you have to do is ask.’
‘So you’re mister moneybags now, are you?’
He knew she didn’t mean to sound so harsh, that she was trying to deflect so he wouldn’t notice the sheen of tears in her eyes again. Those damn tears slugged him anew.
‘Being a land broker pays the bills,’ he said, wondering what she’d think if she saw his bank balance.
The class clown had made good and then some.
With a little careful investing early in his career, he’d managed to buy two rental properties on Melbourne’s fringe, as well as the house he resided in when he wasn’t on the road, among the leafy streets of affluent Hawthorn.
If Mila needed financial assistance he could definitely help, but her inherent stubborn streak meant she wouldn’t accept it no matter how many times he offered.
Unless he took a different approach …
An idea shimmered into consciousness, but he’d have to do some digging before he presented it to her in a way she couldn’t say no to.
‘Shall we make a toast?’ He picked up one of the champagne bottles on ice and waited until she nodded before popping the cork and filling two flutes.
After he’d handed her one, he raised his. ‘To old friends.’
‘To old friends,’ she echoed. As they tapped glasses, their gazes locked, and Sawyer wondered if contemplating sticking around for longer than a day was the craziest thing he’d done in a long time.