Chapter 8 #3
She didn’t reply right away as she was busy hustling Molly and Sherlock through the front door.
You okay?
This time, now all safely inside, she typed back.
Yeah, all good. Molly is with me. We’ll be safe here.
There was a pause. Then typing bubbles appeared, followed by …
I meant what I said earlier. I’m here for both of you. Day or night. Doesn’t matter what time. If you even THINK something’s off, call me, Bri.
Brianna stared at the message. Not flirtatious. Not dramatic. Just steady. Like he always was.
Thank you. I appreciate you checking in on us.
She hesitated, then added, Sleep well, Hayden.
The three dots blinked for a moment.
You too, Bri. Stay safe. Speak to you tomorrow.
And as she crossed the lounge room, and to the back door, making sure it was locked, too, she felt the echo of his words humming like a quiet promise between them.
* * *
The timber boards of the verandah groaned softly under Hayden’s boots as he sank into the old camp chair, a stubby in hand and the last of the day’s warmth slipping into the breeze.
The familiar hush of Sweetwater Acres at night usually comforted him – crickets chirping in the underbrush, a lone owl calling from the gums near the dam, old Diesel shuffling in the paddock nearby.
It was the kind of peace he’d once prayed for.
The kind he’d built, bit by bit, with Casey, then especially after she’d left this earth because he’d needed something, anything, to focus on, something that made him want to stay here on earth without her.
But tonight it didn’t quiet him.
Tonight it made him even more antsy. Like he should be doing more.
But what could he do?
He leant forwards, forearms braced on his thighs, fingers wrapped loosely around the bottle.
The glass felt warm from where he’d held it too long without drinking. His thoughts were too tangled in what had unfolded that day, in the broken windows of Molly’s vandalised café, and the shadows creeping in from somewhere close.
Way too close.
It had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. Not just because it was Molly, who’d been like a mother to Casey, who still dropped off a bag of Anzac biscuits every year on Casey’s birthday without fail, but because of the why.
Someone had targeted her.
Someone had known what they were doing.
Someone in town.
All because of her dead brother.
And that sat wrong with every part of him.
He exhaled slowly, his mind a mess. His back ached from hours bent over timber and glass, but it was the kind of ache he welcomed.
Tangible. Honest. Not like the knot that had tightened in his chest the moment Molly had confessed about the blackmail.
The debt. Her brother Jack. Gone now eight months.
And still causing ripples from the grave.
He rubbed a hand down his face, over his two-day stubble.
He remembered Jack – he’d always been a bit rough around the edges.
Charming when he needed to be, a smooth talker with sticky fingers and a gambling streak a mile wide.
But no one had thought it would come to this.
Especially not Molly. Now she was paying his price.
And some horrible human being, someone they all likely knew, someone who he might have smiled at in the grocery store or shared a beer with at the pub, had decided she owed them.
His stomach twisted.
Bastards!
And then, unbidden, his thoughts turned back to Brianna Steele.
He hadn’t meant for it to happen. Hadn’t wanted it to.
When she’d first rolled into town with that shiny blue Hilux and the calm confidence of someone who knew how to stitch a womb back together and handle a wild brumby in the same breath, he’d seen trouble.
Not the kind that wrecked your life. The kind that made you want to live again.
And he hadn’t been sure he was ready for that.
Wasn’t sure he deserved it. But then she’d smiled at him, in that genuine, cutely crooked way she probably didn’t even know she did, and something in him shifted.
And when he’d seen her hold Molly today, her hands steady, her voice low and kind, not flinching when things got dark, that was when he really knew.
Brianna was a rarity, especially in his world.
He knew this wasn’t just about him being ready to fall in love again.
It was about recognising something rare when it stood in front of you.
But then came the part he still felt uneasy over.
The stupid dare. The foolish bet Gavin had roped him into.
A thoughtless joke, a push. And he’d agreed.
Not because he meant harm, never that, but because he’d been stuck for so long he didn’t recognise the line until he was halfway over it.
Yes, he’d told Gavin the bet was off. Told him it wasn’t a game.
But he hadn’t told Brianna about it. He meant to.
He’d planned to. Several times he almost had.
But each time he was near her, and the moment had felt right, something stopped him.
Embarrassment? Fear of embarrassing her?
Fear of her rejecting him, by refusing to ever speak to him socially again?
He wouldn’t blame her in the slightest if that were the case.
But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to never speak to her again.
He liked their conversations. Liked her company.
Loved the sound of her voice. Loved how he felt when he was around her.
He wanted to tell her what a fool he’d been.
He wanted to admit what a brainless twit he was, accepting such a stupid bet.
And now?
Now worrying about the bet seemed irrelevant.
Stupid, even. Today had changed things. Seeing Molly broken.
The café torn apart. Hearing the fear in Molly’s voice as she’d admitted she hadn’t told the police about the blackmail.
Not because she didn’t want to, but because she was scared.
That kind of fear had a way of putting things into sharp perspective.
What was a bet, a bad decision, compared to that?
Still, a part of him whispered that Brianna deserved the truth.
That if something grew between them, something real and poignant, it had to be built on more than silence.
But another part, the part that had buried a wife and barely survived it, told him it might be kinder not to say anything at all.
The damage was already done. Why drag it into the light?
And as much as he wanted to, he didn’t have an answer.
Not yet. But he knew one thing. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt Molly.
Not like that. Not again. And look out anyone who tried to hurt Brianna because she was helping Molly out.
Out in the paddock, Diesel gave a soft, low nicker – like agreement, or a benediction.
Hayden tipped back the last of his beer and leant into the chair’s embrace, the stars wheeling slow above him.
He didn’t know what tomorrow held. But tonight, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t just haunted by the past. He was thinking about the future.
And it didn’t feel like betrayal. It felt like something new.
Maybe even something worth protecting.