Chapter 38 #2
I can’t help but release a breathy laugh. My hand almost moves to her back, wanting to keep her close to me, but then she steps away, leaving the space colder than it should be.
“I’m still… we’re still trying to figure things out,” I say quietly. “It’s been real quiet without you around.”
“And here I thought you hated my wildness.”
“Quite the fucking opposite, actually.”
Her breath catches. I see the shift in her posture, the flicker of emotion she’s trying to bury.
And suddenly, I’m done pretending that everything’s fine.
“Things have been weird,” I admit. “Teddy asks about you every damn day. Keeps asking when you’re coming back.
” I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling hard.
“And fuck… I’m the one who should be thanking you.
For everything. For looking after him, for putting up with me, for organising that bloody birthday.
And that gift—” I huff, shaking my head, half in disbelief.
“Christ, I’ve never had anyone give me something that meant that much. ”
“You’re welcome,” she says quietly. No bite. No sarcasm. Just simple, honest truth.
My throat tightens as I look at her. “We miss you. Teddy, Diesel… and me. Especially Diesel.”
“Oh, really?”
“You’ve got no idea,” I say. “Didn’t think a forty-five-kilo dog could mope around, but he won’t even let me near him. Pretty sure he’s waiting for you to walk through the door.”
“Don’t blame him,” she mutters quietly, yet with enough bite that I hear it. She turns back to the horse, tightening the straps with careful precision, every motion controlled. “Tell Teddy I said I miss him too,” she says softly. Her voice wavers, and it guts me. “And I’ll… see him soon.”
She starts to move around Blue, but I reach out, fingers brushing her wrist.
“Liv, please. Don’t shut me out.”
Her eyes find mine, glossy but fierce. “Why, Sebastian? What could you possibly need from me? You made it clear that this thing between us was temporary. And now it’s over.”
The words hit harder than I expected. “I’m trying, Liv.”
“I don’t doubt you are. Just not hard enough.” Her hand settles on her hip, chin lifting in that stubborn way that both infuriates and destroys me. I used to love that look. Hell, I still do.
“What do I need to do?” It feels pathetic to even ask, but Christ, if humility is the price, I’ll pay it.
“Think about what I told you. I don’t want an apology. I want you to figure your shit out before you come back to me.”
“I… have.” It comes out uneven, more uncertain than I mean it to, because, well… I’m still trying to.
Her head tilts slightly. “And what exactly have you figured out?”
“That I’m fucking miserable without you.”
Her lashes flutter. For a second, she almost softens, but then she steps back, putting the distance right where it hurts.
“Tell me you feel the same, Liv.” My voice breaks, and it’s not pride speaking anymore. It’s desperation.
Her gaze drops, then lifts again. “I love being around you, I do. But I can’t disappear inside someone again. You, of all people, should know that.”
I drag a hand over my face. “I never meant to make you feel that way.”
“But you did.”
“Then I’ll spend as long as it takes proving I won’t do it again.”
Her mouth trembles before she hardens again.
“I can’t be the only one showing up, Sebastian.
I need more than sex and half-hearted affection behind closed doors.
If you can’t be all in, then I’m all out.
” She pauses, her voice catching, but not enough to stop her.
“And I don’t want you turning up here because you feel bad, or lonely, or guilty.
I want you to show up because you care. Because you fucking mean it. ”
Her words land like a gut punch. For the first time, I actually hear what she’s been trying to tell me all along. It’s not about fixing what broke. It’s about proving I’m worth letting back in. And standing here, surrounded by hay and sunlight and her goddamn strength, I finally get it.
Before I can speak, she moves. One smooth motion—her boot in the stirrup, her hands on the reins—and she’s on Blue’s back.
“I’m sure you can show yourself out,” she says, voice calm, final. “Goodbye, Sebastian.”
And then she rides off, leaving dust in her wake and a silence that roars in my chest. I stand there, watching her disappear down the paddock. My chest feels hollow, but underneath the hollow sits something else.
Something raw, burning.
“The Wattle Creek Idiots”
Harrison: Right, since the girls have their own group chat or some shit, I figured we needed one.
Michael: Why?
Harrison: Because you all need me in your lives. You’re welcome.
Xavier: How bored are you?
Michael: You’re such a loser.
Harrison: Loser? Please. I’m calling it brotherhood.
Bradley: Do I need to be in this conversation?
Harrison: Absolutely.
Me: I’m struggling to understand why I’ve been added.
Michael: Oh, HI Sebastian.
Harrison: Who pissed in your fucking Cheerios this morning, daddio? Jeez.
Xavier: Oh, leave him be. He’s just grovelling.
Michael: Grovelling? Why?
Harrison: I’m betting it’s got something to do with a certain Mitchell sibling.
Bradley left the chat.
Harrison: Uh, oh.
Michael: Oh… so no more late night “babysitting” shifts?
Xavier: Careful. That’s my sister you’re talking about.
Me: What the fuck is grovelling?
Xavier: It’s when you realise you’ve royally fucked up and start trying to earn forgiveness.
Harrison: Just looked it up. Usually involves flowers. Grand gestures.
Michael: Or a public apology in front of the Loose Lasso crowd. I’ll bring popcorn.
Me: You’re all idiots.
Harrison: Oh, absolutely, but you’re the main event, daddio. Keep digging.
Sebastian: How do you all know more about my life than I do?
I toss my phone onto the counter and rub a hand down my face, half-laughing, half-dreading whatever the hell this chat’s going to become.
Grovelling. Christ. Apparently, I’m the only one in this group who didn’t know what that meant.
Humbled doesn’t even cover it. Guess it just proves what I already know—I might know how to make a woman come, but I clearly don’t know shit about keeping one.
I grab my keys off the bench, still shaking my head, muttering under my breath as I head out.
“Brotherhood, my ass.” The boys’ messages keep pinging as I climb into my ute, lighting up my screen like a bloody Christmas tree.
Xavier: Women talk.
Harrison: And we listen.
Michael: Against our will, mostly.
Harrison: You’re in the new headline … “Local Cop Wrecks Own Love Life.”
Me: You’re all dicks. You don’t know anything.
Harrison: Correction… SUPPORTIVE dicks. And we know everything.
Michael: Why are we talking about dicks? I really don’t blame Brad for leaving.
Me: I’m muting this chat now.
Xavier: Coward.
Harrison: Typical groveller behaviour.
Michael: Don’t worry, mate, we’ll check in daily. For moral support.
I’m mid-stirring pasta when my phone buzzes across the counter, still flashing with the aftermath of The Wattle Creek Idiots group chat.
The sauce bubbles lazily in the pan, filling the kitchen with a smell that should feel comforting, but it doesn’t.
Not without her. Still, Teddy asked for it, so here I am, boiling spaghetti and pretending I know what the hell I’m doing when suddenly there’s a knock at the door.
I wipe my hands on a tea towel and open it, only to find the last person I expected.
Bradley Mitchell. Beers in hand.
I arch a brow. “You’re not here to threaten me, are you?”
He smirks as he steps inside. “If I were, I wouldn’t be bringing beer.”
I follow him through, watching him nod a greeting toward Teddy, who’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, Lego scattered around him while Bluey hums in the background.
Bradley sets the beers down with a dull thud on the table.
I give the pasta one last stir, kill the heat, and lean on the counter for a second.
Bradley cracks a beer, slides one my way, and takes a seat at the table. I join him, glancing at Teddy once more—his curls bouncing as he talks to himself, half in his own world.
“I know I said it before,” Bradley finally starts, “but thank you. For all that you did with my father.”
I shrug, cracking open my beer. “Would’ve done the same if it were anyone else. But… seeing him like that, your dad, fuck, it gutted me.” My throat tightens around the words. “It felt like seeing family go down.”
Bradley studies me for a moment, then nods once. That’s all he says, but it’s enough. My phone buzzes across the table. The Wattle Creek Idiots lighting up again. The group chat hasn’t stopped since morning.
Bradley glances at my screen, a corner of his mouth twitching. “Glad I left when I did.”
“Oh, it’s mental,” I say, taking a long drink. “They haven’t shut up all day.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’ll come to realise that plenty of people will have a lot to say about your life. Especially in a small town like this.”
I huff a laugh. “Well, if that ain’t the truth. I’m bloody sick of people knowing more about my life than I do. About what I should be doing.”
Bradley hums, eyes fixed on his bottle. “You’ve never really been a private person.” He pauses, thinking. “Well… that was until Teddy came into your life. Then those walls shot straight up.”
Pride prickles in my chest because no one likes being seen that clearly. But underneath it, there’s something heavier. I could argue, deflect, but he’s right. We both know it.
“Yeah,” I say after a beat. “And now apparently, my love… life, and my fuckups, are the new entertainment.” I shake my head.
“Love.” The word tastes foreign. I mutter it again, quieter this time, mostly to myself as if it’ll make me believe in it.
The room goes quiet again. Even Bluey’s laughter in the background fades to white noise.
The clock ticks, and the wind hums through the open window.
Bradley drains his beer, sets the bottle down, and clears his throat. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Daniels. Don’t act like you don’t know what love is. You’ve been brought up with it your whole life. You give it to your son every damn day.”
I shake my head. “That’s different, Mitchell.
Loving my kid’s easy. He depends on me. It’s black and white.
Loving a woman…” I rub the back of my neck.
“That’s different. How do I balance both?
I’ve never had this much responsibility in my life, apart from our job.
Half the time, I feel like I’m winging it.
I wouldn’t even know the first thing about loving a woman properly. ”
He stares at me for a long second, then says flatly, “You’re an idiot.”
I blink at him in disbelief. “How?”
“Because you’re overthinking it. Where’s the guy I used to know?
The one who couldn’t stop annoying me every chance he got?
That guy wouldn’t have hesitated at this.
Wouldn’t have fucked it up.” His voice stays even, but there’s steel behind it.
“Look, I’m not gonna drag up all the shit you’ve done or said.
I’m trying to push that aside for the sake of the idea of you being with my sister. ”
“That’s generous of you.”
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you lied to me, you wanker.” His tone doesn’t change. “I’m just giving you the benefit of the doubt. For now. For her.”
There’s a trace of something close to respect beneath the warning, and I nod once.
I get it. He’s the protective older sibling.
Sandra’s the same. Always has been. But how many times have I been the one people called when shit hit the fan?
When the car broke down. When the washing machine flooded the kitchen.
When someone needed a lift, a hand, a fix.
It was always Call Sebastian. I was the one who patched things up, held it together, made sure everyone else stayed standing.
And now? The only ones left to hold are my kid…
and her—if I can get my shit together long enough not to lose her.
“You can’t keep punishing yourself for your past and expect someone to wait around while you figure it out.”
A low, humourless laugh slips out before I can stop it—at how his words slice deep.
Not because they’re cruel, but because they’re fucking true.
At the fact that they’re also coming from Bradley, who barely says two sentences unless they count.
I exhale slowly. “You and your sister sure know how to hit a bloke where it hurts.”
He smirks, finishing off the last of his beer. “Grovelling looks good on you. Knew your dumb decisions would catch up eventually.”
I know he’s not talking about the mistakes that used to define me. He’s talking about her. I take another swig, eyes drifting toward the open window.
“Yeah. Guess I’ve got some fixing to do.”
Bradley stands, stretches, and gives me that older-brother look I’ve seen him throw at Xavier a dozen times.
“Good luck, Daniels.” Before he leaves, he pauses in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder.
“One last thing. You can’t half-love my sister.
Either tell her, and mean it, or stay the hell away for good. ”
The sound of the door clicking shut behind him is jarring.
I swallow the lump in my throat and force myself to move.
Grabbing two plates from the cupboard, I call Teddy over for dinner.
He barrels in, chatter spilling out about Lego towers and Bluey episodes as I dish up the pasta.
I let him talk. It’s the only thing that can attempt to soften the edges of my riled, tight mind, because deep inside, Bradley’s words keep echoing.
You can’t half-love my sister.
Love.
A week ago, Sandra said almost the same damn thing.
Now Bradley’s driven the nail straight in.
I’ll lose the part of myself that remembered what it felt like to actually live when she walked into my world.
I grab my phone, thumb hovering over the screen.
A message starts to form, then I delete it.
Fuck it. No more pointless one-sided messages. It’s time to show her.
I know for a fact she’s going to make this hard, but maybe that’s exactly what I need.
A kick up the ass big enough to finally pull my head out of it.