Chapter 18
Sebastian
It started with Teddy. Of course it did.
Just after sunrise this morning, he padded into the kitchen, pyjamas still half twisted, tugging at my sleeve before I’d even taken my first sip of coffee.
He told me Liv said he could visit her farm and meet Blue.
I told him she probably hadn’t meant today, but he blinked up at me and calmly said, in the way only a five-year-old can, that she promised.
And that was it. End of discussion.
Weekends with him are precious and way too short.
I should be grateful for the time we get, but sometimes, forty-eight hours feels like a handful of sand slipping through my fingers.
So now I’m behind the wheel, gravel kicking up a cloud behind us as my car crawls up the long dirt road toward her property. And there she is.
Boots planted wide. Faded jeans hugging curves I’ve spent far too long trying not to notice. Her white tank clings to her sun-warmed skin, and a cowboy hat tips low, barely containing that wild mess of golden-touched hair.
Trouble in denim. That’s what she is.
Trouble that laughs too loud and smells like sunshine and hay.
I park beside the stables and kill the engine. Sitting for a second longer than I should, I finally climb out, running a hand down the front of my shirt, like that’ll fix the state of my thoughts. It doesn’t. But I school my face into something neutral and remind myself why we’re here.
Teddy wanted to see the horse.
She waves, a beaming smile already locked and loaded. “Well, well. Look what the wind blew in.” I bite back the urge to roll my eyes, because I’m supposed to be an adult—the adult.
“Yeah, yeah. This has your name written all over it, Trouble.” The nickname slips out for thr second time.
Her grin only widens. “Oh, yeah? What gave it away?”
I jerk my chin toward the ground, where Teddy’s practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh, I don’t know. Making promises to this one, maybe? Hoping I wouldn’t notice.”
“Me?” She gasps, dramatic hand to chest. “Never.”
Teddy giggles beside me—actual, honest-to-God laughter—and I have to glance twice to make sure it’s real. My kid doesn’t laugh like that often. Not freely. Not easily. When he hides his face behind his hands, I follow his line of sight back to her, just in time to catch her winking.
Blushing. My son is blushing. I didn’t even know he could.
Something tight and unfamiliar cinches in my chest, twisting hard. Teddy’s voice pulls me out of it. “Is that Blue?”
He’s pointing at the beast of a horse beside her, coat like storm clouds, eyes steady, muscles rippling beneath dark silver. It should look intimidating. Hell, I wouldn’t get close. But Olivia has her hand under its jaw like it’s nothing.
Olivia crouches beside the reins. “Of course, handsome. Come on over and meet him.”
Teddy turns to me first, eyes flicking up for permission. Still looking for the green light. Still checking, even now. My throat gets tight. I follow the line from her hand to his face, then back again.
“Go on.”
He takes off like a shot, arms flung wide, sneakers scuffing up dust. He throws himself straight into her side, and she catches him before bending to whisper something to him with that same sunlit grin.
By the time I manage to unglue my jaw and start walking toward the fence, she glances up and catches my eye. I forget why I’m even here.
Because for all the reasons I’ve told myself to keep my distance—rules, boundaries, promises—there’s a pull I can’t reason my way out of.
Teddy is engrossed in whatever she’s telling him, pointing toward Blue.
I drift toward the fence, lean an elbow on the top rail, and try to keep my expression neutral.
“So,” she calls over her shoulder. “I see Mr. Neanderthal has finally left the haystack. Back to normal, huh?”
I arch a brow. “Whatever do you mean?”
She smirks, adjusting the saddle strap. “All that grunting and glaring the other night? I was starting to think you’d forgotten how to be tolerable.”
I huff out something that almost counts as a laugh. “You must be confusing me with someone who does that sort of thing.”
“Ah, sure.” She flashes me a look. “Or perhaps I’m just better at reading you than you think.”
And that’s the problem. She is.
Teddy tugs on her hand, asking something about the helmet, and she drops into a crouch beside him.
She adjusts the strap under his chin with careful fingers, murmuring instructions.
The movement pulls her muscles taut beneath sun-kissed skin, and I have to look away, biting the inside of my cheek just to keep my pulse from doing something humiliating.
Because Jesus Christ.
Since when am I this far gone over a woman’s forearms?
She hoists him onto the saddle like it’s nothing.
Hands steady. Voice soft. And Teddy—my usually fidgety, distracted, hard-to-read kid—goes perfectly still, hanging on her every word.
Then she swings up behind him. The motion is fluid.
Natural. Too damn graceful for my peace of mind. My breath catches, and I grit my teeth.
I need to leave. Now. Before I say something stupid, or worse, before she turns around and sees just how hard I’m getting, standing here watching her. What is wrong with me?
My son is a few metres away. My son. And I’m out here battling a hard-on like a hormone-drunk teenager with his first crush.
Whatever this is, this thing clawing at the edges of my control every time she’s close, it’s not easing up.
It’s a slow spiral, and I’ve got no one to blame but myself for letting it get this far in the first place.
“That you, Daniels?”
The deep voice drifts across the paddock enough to pull me straight out of my own head. I turn before I can stop the smirk tugging at my mouth. “Mitchell.”
Xavier closes the distance between us, hat tipped low, and jeans streaked with red dirt. “Didn’t think I’d see you out here,” he says, resting a forearm against the fence.
“Trust me,” I mutter, glancing toward the pen, “wasn’t on my Saturday bingo card either.”
His eyes follow mine, right to where Olivia is still up on that damn horse with my kid.
Xavier hums low, still watching. “Whose idea was this? Not yours, I bet.”
I scoff. “That obvious?”
He moves the toothpick in his mouth from one side to the other, smirking.
“Liv’s been doing this with all the kids recently, don’t worry.
Knew it was only a matter of time before she roped yours in.
” Right. Of course she has. My gaze drifts back to her—hand on the reins, body tilted forward as Teddy speaks to her.
Xavier leans both elbows on the fence now. “Didn’t peg you for the scenic type, Daniels.”
I glance out over the paddocks—sky bleeding gold, long grass bending in the breeze, fence lines stretching forever. “Yeah,” I say slowly. “I can see why you love this life.”
Xavier chuckles, plucking the toothpick free. “It’ll keep you on your toes. Always something to fix, break, chase down.” His tone drops. “Wasn’t talkin’ about the paddocks, though.”
The comment lands like a sucker punch. My jaw goes tight. I turn toward him, but he’s already wearing that smug, knowing smirk. I don’t respond. There’s nothing to say that won’t give me away.
He claps a hand on my shoulder. “Laters, bro.”
Then he’s gone, whistling as he walks, leaving me standing in the dust, still staring at the girl who’s got my kid wrapped around her finger.
By the time Teddy’s done, he’s spent. His head rests against my shoulder, fingers clutching the collar of my shirt as I carry him.
Olivia’s brushing Blue down, hair loose in the wind now that she’s not wearing her hat.
It’s… disarming, how easily she fits into his world.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, breaking whatever spell I’ve fallen under. I shift Teddy carefully and answer.
“Mother,” I say, bracing myself.
“When are you bringing Teddy over?” she asks, skipping any kind of greeting. Her tone is brisk, clipped. “Jack and Lily are staying the night. Sandra and Andrew have date night, so I thought I’d have all the grandkids.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, already knowing this wasn’t a suggestion. “That right? You just decided that?”
“Well, yes,” she replies, as if I’m the unreasonable one. “It’ll be good for them. You didn’t say no yet, so I assume you’re already on your way.”
She’s impossible to argue with—has been since I was old enough to try—so I don’t waste my breath. “Fine,” I mutter, shifting Teddy again. “We’ll head over after I stop in at the house.”
“Lovely,” she says, a little too cheerfully now that she’s gotten her way. “I’ll see you both soon.”
Olivia’s already leading Blue back toward the stables by the time I hang up. I smooth a hand across his back, the flannel of his shirt soft beneath my palm. “How does a sleepover at Nana’s sound, mate?”
His head pops up, those brown eyes squinting up at me. “Tonight?”
“Yeah.” I can’t help the smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Tim and Lily are going too.”
He straightens, trying to play it cool, but the excitement’s already spilling through. “Can I bring my toys?”
His toys, meaning his cars and blocks. The things that make him feel safe. “Course you can, champ. Bring whatever you need. You can even take your storybook for Nan to read.”
Olivia approaches then, brushing the dust from her jeans. “Sleepover at Nana’s, huh?” she says, rubbing at his small back. “That sounds like fun.”
Teddy’s eyebrows jump. “Can Olivia come for the drive?”
I open my mouth, already shaking my head. “I’m sure Liv’s got better things to do than hang around with us all afternoon.”
“Don’t listen to your father, champ,” she says, flashing him a wink. “You’re way more important than mucking out stalls. I used to love sleepovers at my Nan and Pop’s when I was your age.”
He peers up at her curiously. “Why did you stop?”
There’s so much innocence in his question, it guts me.
Olivia pauses, just for a second, glancing up toward the sky before she answers.
“Well… because my Nan and Pop aren’t here anymore.
” She softens the words with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“But hey, only the cool kids get to do it now.”
Teddy tilts his head thoughtfully. “Can I sleep over when I’m older, too?”
“Uh, sure,” she says, glancing sideways at me like she’s waiting for me to jump in.
I snort, adjusting Teddy’s weight on my hip. “Don’t say that too loudly in front of Nana. She’ll have a room redecorated by morning.”
Olivia’s laughter rings out—loud and unguarded—straight through me. God, that sound. It’s warm and messy, and completely unfair. The sound that leaves me is somewhere between a sigh and a growl.
The windows are down, and the late afternoon sun spills over the car’s dash as we drive in silence back to Olivia’s house.
After dropping Teddy off, I had to physically pry Olivia from the lounge when it was time to go.
Now she’s quiet, scrolling on her phone, humming softly along to whatever’s on the aux.
She’s already changed the music three times since we pulled out—country to rock to pop, and now we’ve landed somewhere deep in Disney territory.
When I asked, she said it was her Existential Crisis playlist. All I could do was snort.
“Your mum really is lovely,” she says finally, tone light but teasing. “You didn’t tell me she’d make me join her Sunday baking club.”
I grip the wheel tighter, fighting a smile. “You weren’t supposed to join anything. That was a drop-off, not afternoon tea.”
“She offered cake. You expect me to say no to cake?”
I fight the urge to laugh. “You’ve got no self-control, Trouble.”
“Maybe not, Bash,” she says, eyes glinting. “But I make friends easily. Can’t help it if your mum likes me better.”
I shake my head, knowing better than to argue.
Because it’s true. My sister, Teddy, hell, even Diesel, who barely tolerates human existence, has decided she’s worth the exception.
She tilts her head, studying me in that way that makes me feel dissected.
“So… what are your plans for the rest of the afternoon?”
“Laundry.” I shoot her a look. “Maybe clean my car.”
Her mouth curves. “Wow. Somebody stop him before he gets arrested for fun overload.”
“Some of us prefer peace and quiet.”
“Oh, c’mon, Grumpy.” She twists in her seat to face me. “Live a little. It’s Saturday. No badge, no paperwork, and no bedtime routine.”
“I live plenty,” I say, though I don’t even sound convinced.
“Hah! You’ve never lived until you’ve tried running gates whilst feeding the goats. Boots are optional, bravery is required.”
My brow furrows. “Running gates?”
She grins wider. “You sprint from one gate to the next to feed the animals, before Kevin catches you.”
“Kevin,” I repeat flatly. “Who’s Kevin?”
“A goat.”
“You name your goats?”
She grins over her shoulder. “Only the assholes.”
“Right, and you want me to”—I gesture vaguely—“run through paddocks with you?”
“Yep.” She pops the ‘p’ and faces forward like it’s already settled. “I need to feed the goats and could use some backup, Sergeant.”
“First off, I’m no sergeant,” I say, the correction slipping out automatically. “It’s Superintendent.” The title sits funny between us, like something too rigid for the space we’re in that smells faintly of her perfume and sun-warmed dust.
She hums, exaggerated and unimpressed, like she’s weighing it up and finding it lacking.
I should shut this down. I know I should. Every rational part of me is screaming not to entertain whatever this is. But she’s already rolling the window down, letting the wind catch her hair, and damn it, when was the last time something felt that light in my chest?
Her voice lilts with mock innocence. “Right, and secondly?”
I sigh, dragging a hand over my jaw. “I better not regret this, Trouble.”
That grin of hers turns wicked, all teeth and triumph. “Oh, you won’t. Promise.”
God help me, I steer the car in the direction she’s pointing, toward whatever chaos she’s got planned, and further away from the version of myself that’s always been safe. Always been predictable. Always been alone.