Elara's breath caught. This was the Jax she remembered. The one who felt the weight of every life on this land, animal and human. The man whose heart was as vast as the outback sky, but who guarded it with barbed wire after she'd left.
He must have sensed her presence. His humming stopped, but he didn't look up. "She won't make it if she doesn't get this colostrum," he said, his voice neutral.
"I'm sorry," Elara whispered, the words inadequate. "About today. I'm not trying to sabotage you, Jax. I just… I feel so useless here."
He finally looked at her, the golden light of the setting sun catching the green in his eyes. "You're not useless. You're just rusty. And you're thinking too much." He gestured for her to come closer. "Here."
Hesitantly, she approached. He shifted, making space on the drum. "Sit."
She sat beside him, their shoulders almost touching. He transferred the warm, wriggling lamb into her arms. "Support its head. Just like that. Now, let it suckle. Don't force it."
Elara held the tiny creature, feeling its frantic heartbeat against her palm. She guided the rubber teat to its mouth, and it began to drink, its tail wiggling weakly. A profound sense of calm settled over her.
They sat in silence for a long time, the only sound the lamb's greedy sucking. The fierce outback stars began to prick the velvet sky.
"You used to love this," Jax said quietly, not looking at her. "The mustering, the animals. You were a natural. Better than me, sometimes."
"I loved it because I was with you," she said, the truth escaping before she could cage it.
The air went still. He turned his head, his gaze searching her face in the dim light.
"Yeah," he said, his voice rough. "I loved it for the same reason."
He stood up abruptly, taking the now-sleepy lamb from her. "We should get back."
But as they walked to the homestead in the starlight, the space between them was different. The anger had burned itself out, leaving behind the embers of an old, familiar warmth. He hadn't forgiven her. But for the first time, he had let her see the man behind the wall. And she had remembered why she had fallen in love with him in the first place.
Chapter 4:
The River Bend
A week after the tailing incident, the work turned to checking the bores and fences in the far paddocks. It was slower, solitary work, and Jax, to Elara's surprise, asked if she wanted to come.
They rode for hours in a silence that was no longer hostile, but contemplative. The landscape changed, dipping into a rocky gorge where a thin, silver thread of water carved its way through the red rock. The River Gum Creek. Their place.
He reined in his horse at the bend where the water pooled, deep and cool under the shade of a massive, ancient river gum. It was here, under this very tree, that he’d first kissed her. Where they’d dreamed out loud about their future on the station.
“We should let the horses drink,” he said, his voice gruff.
They dismounted, the horses lowering their heads to the water with soft, grateful snorts. The heat was less intense here, the air moist and cool. Elara sat on a sun-warmed rock, taking off her hat and running a hand through her damp hair.
Jax stood a few feet away, staring into the water.“I brought your grandfather’s ashes here,” he said suddenly.“After the funeral. Seemed right.”
The confession hung in the air, a raw, intimate detail of a life she’d missed. Guilt, sharp and fresh, twisted in her gut.“I should have been here.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, but there was no accusation in it now. Just a simple, painful fact.“He asked for you. At the end.”
A sob caught in her throat. She looked away, across the water, her vision blurring.
“He understood, you know,” Jax continued, his voice softer.“More than I did. He said you had wings, and this place was a cage for a bird like you. He never blamed you for leaving.”
“But you did,” she whispered, finally meeting his gaze.
He was silent for a long moment, his jaw working.“I blamed you for making me believe you wanted to be in the cage with me. For letting me think our dream was the same dream.” He kicked a stone into the water, the plop echoing in the quiet gorge.“Then I got older. And I realized maybe he was right. Maybe I was asking you to clip your own wings.”
His understanding was a greater burden than his anger had ever been. It meant he had truly loved her enough to let her go, even if it had broken him.
“It wasn’t the place, Jax,” she said, her voice trembling.“It was me. I was young and scared. Scared of being so… known. Of being so loved. It felt like such a huge responsibility. In the city, I could be anyone. Here, I could only ever be… yours.”
