Chapter 24
The flight from Scotland seemed endless. Three connections, cramped seats, and too much time to think. By the time Liam stumbled off the Air New Zealand domestic flight in Dunedin, his shoulders ached and his head throbbed with that familiar dull pain that had become his unwelcome companion.
“Liam!” Scott’s voice cut through the terminal noise, and seconds later, he enveloped Liam in a crushing hug. “Christ, mate, you look like hell.”
“Feel like it too,” Liam managed, surprised by how good it was to see a familiar face. Behind Scott, Saber approached with a more measured but equally warm embrace.
“Welcome home,” Saber said, but his sharp gaze was cataloging everything—Liam’s weight loss, the tension around his eyes, and the careful way he held himself.
“Good to be back.” The words came automatically, and they weren’t entirely untrue. The familiar accents, the cooler air, the rolling hills of Otago stretching into the distance—it all felt like coming back to himself after months of being someone else.
But something was missing. The anticipation he’d expected, the pure relief of being home, seemed muted.
During the drive to Middlemarch, Liam answered their questions about Scotland and the castle, keeping the conversation at a surface level. Yes, it had been great to see Niall and Suzie. Yes, the gathering was interesting—until everything went sideways. No, he was fine, just tired from the travel.
Scott filled the silence with town gossip—who was dating whom, upcoming events. The everyday things that should’ve comforted him but faded into background noise.
“Your old room’s ready,” Saber said as they pulled into his driveway. “Emily’s made enough food to feed a rugby team. She’s been cooking nonstop since I told her you were coming home. The twins are looking forward to seeing you.”
Liam nodded his thanks. As they unloaded his meager belongings, he caught Saber and Scott exchanging one of those looks. The kind that said they were worried, but trying not to show it.
He spent the next two days going through the motions of being back. Emily fussed over him with home-cooked meals. Scott dropped by each evening with updates on mutual friends, trying to coax him out for a beer. Saber offered practical help—a place to stay, job contacts, and the use of his truck.
Everyone was kind. Welcoming, and careful not to ask the obvious questions about those missing months.
Liam was grateful for their restraint. He wasn’t ready to explain. How did you tell people you’d fallen for your kidnapper? That you’d found a family who accepted you, then walked away because you couldn’t handle the uncertainty?
On his third morning, he sat at Saber’s kitchen table, staring into a cup of coffee that had gone cold as he lost himself in thought.
“Rough night?” Saber asked, settling across from him with his own mug.
“Couldn’t sleep.” It was becoming a pattern. He’d lie in bed, exhausted but wired, his mind cycling through memories he couldn’t shake. Hedrek’s laugh. Tamsin checking his fever, her expression pensive and troubled. The boys’ excitement over pottery sales. Sienna’s face in firelight.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” His reply emerged sharper than he’d intended, and he saw Saber’s eyebrows rise. “Sorry. Everything still feels weird.”
“Makes sense,” Saber said. “If you’re restless, I’ve got a suggestion for you.”
Despite himself, Liam experienced a hint of interest. “Yeah?”
“Cam Sinclair runs a sheep and cattle station up in Mackenzie country. It’s remote—wide open land where you won’t see another soul for miles.
” Saber leaned back in his chair. “His regular hand broke his leg and won’t be fit for three months.
Cam’s looking for someone experienced with livestock, someone who can handle the solitude. ”
“All human crew?”
“Shifter. Cam is particular about that. Says it’s the only way to run a proper station when you’re dealing with the country he works.” Saber studied Liam’s face. “It’s remote. No cell signal, just radio. Supplies come in every couple of weeks. Some find it tough being that cut off.”
It sounded perfect. “When would he need someone?”
“Lambing season’s coming up, and Cam’s already short-handed,” Saber said. “It’s hard work, basic accommodation, and, yeah, it’s in the middle of nowhere. But the food’s good, and it might give you the space to think.”
“I’ll take it.”
The speed of his response surprised them both. Saber set down his coffee cup. “You sure? You haven’t even heard about the pay.”
“I’m positive.” The weight lifted off Liam’s chest, a first since his arrival home. Breathing room. Distance. The chance to lose himself in physical work and wide-open country. “When can I leave?”
“I’ll call Cam today, but probably within the week.” Saber was still watching him with a careful expression. “Liam, you don’t have to run from whatever happened over there.”
“I’m not running.” The denial came too quickly, and they both knew it. Liam rubbed the back of his neck. “I need time to figure things out.”
“Fair enough.” Saber’s tone was neutral, but his expression was kind. “We’ll be here when you return.”
That afternoon, Scott found him packing his few belongings into the same pack he’d brought from Scotland.
“So it’s true? You’re heading for the high country?”
“Saber told you.”
“Course he did. We’re worried about you, mate.” Scott leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “This isn’t like you. The Liam I know doesn’t just disappear.”
“Maybe the Liam you knew changed.” The words tasted bitter, but they were true. The man who’d attended the gathering, eager and adventurous, was a stranger now.
“Bullshit.” Scott’s voice was flat. “Whatever happened over there, whatever’s eating at you—disappearing into the mountains won’t fix it.”
“I’m not hiding. It’s work. Routine.”
“It’s both, and you know it.” Scott stepped into the room, his expression serious. “I don’t know what went wrong, and I won’t push. But don’t kid yourself—three months of sheep and silence won’t make this disappear.”
Liam stopped packing and looked at his friend, really looked. Scott’s concern was real, his frustration born of caring. But he didn’t—couldn’t—understand.
“Maybe not,” Liam said. “But it’s what I can handle right now.”
Scott studied him, then nodded. “All right. But promise me this—don’t make any big decisions while you’re up there. Give it the full three months before you decide what’s next.”
“Deal.”
They shook on it, and Liam felt a flicker of the friendship that had sustained him through his early days in Middlemarch. Whatever else had changed, Scott was still in his corner.
Two days later, Saber drove him to the edge of the Mackenzie Basin, where Cam Sinclair waited with a dusty Land Cruiser and a firm handshake.
“You’ll do,” Cam said after a brief assessment. He was a weathered man in his fifties, with a steady presence that spoke of decades of dealing with unpredictable animals and unforgiving country. “Saber says you know your way around livestock.”
“I do.”
“Good. We’ll work you hard, feed you well, and leave you alone when you need it. Sound fair?”
Liam gave a brief nod. “Fair.”
He shouldered his pack and climbed into the passenger seat. As they left the main road and entered the vast golden grassland of the high country, he experienced something he hadn’t in weeks.
Peace—or at least the possibility of it.
Behind them, his life in Middlemarch faded into the hills. Ahead lay three months of weathered mountains, snow-dusted peaks, and paddocks that rolled on for miles. A place ruled by seasons and stock, where the rest of the world was far away.
And for now, that was exactly what he needed.