Sacred ground.It didn’t need a church to be holy.
‘And your father?’
She huffed.‘By then, Dad was nothing but a drunken gambler.Falling asleep in the pub, or the gutter in town somewhere.I had to hide the keys on him so he couldn’t drive.’
Just like she did with Finn.Always the one to drive him home from the pub, laying out water and painkillers like it was routine.
Deadset, Montrose.
His chest pulled tight.Amara wasn’t just a rule-follower—she was protecting people, reacting to the damage she’d already lived through.He saw it now, all the quiet ways she cared.
And didn’t it just make his foolish heart ache for her.
‘Because Mum hadn’t been on the ball to watch the office, Dad had ruined everything.The business ended up so poorly managed…’
Of course.That’s why she micromanaged everything in the Stock Squad office—every detail, every form, every bloody business card.It wasn’t about being uptight, with her uniform’s creases being impeccably straight, it was about control.About never letting things slip through the cracks again.
‘Dad was selling off everything that wasn’t bolted down—the properties, the livestock.Even the saddle Mum gave me.Said he had no choice.Everything had to go.’Her laugh was brittle.‘It was always someone else’s fault with my father.’
She shifted against his back, her breath warm against his neck.And he saw her—like really saw her without even looking at her, but he could—fully, deeply and so completely see her as if for the first time.
And she was so much stronger than he’d realised.
Not only did his care for her deepen, but it came with an extra layer of respect, along with a bucketload of need to protect and care for her.If only he had the bank account to do more.
‘Then my fiancé left me.Said it was too much work, that he didn’t sign up for that.’
‘Mongrel.’His frown was low, as the heat curled in his chest.‘You didn’t deserve that.’
Again, she shifted her hold on his shoulders.‘I know he left because the family name had no power anymore.No more sheep stations or status.Just a pile of crippling debt and shame.’
‘Did you love him?’
She cleared her throat.He felt her straighten on his back, like she was bracing herself, as if trying to push for distance where there was none.
But he wasn’t letting her go, tightening his grip on her legs that wrapped around his sides.
‘No.’
‘Really?’
‘No,’ she again said flatly.‘It was… a society match.Afamily-approved union.’
‘Sounds cold.’
‘It was.Cold and practical.Like a business merger over sheep stations and silverware.’
‘Doesn’t sound like you.’
‘Didn’t feel like me either… I just didn’t realise how much I’d let them choose for me.All of it.Until it all fell apart.’
‘So, the need to be perfect, always perfectly dressed, hair back, the rigid rules, the micromanagement…’
‘All because of my family.’
Porter took a slow and even breath.That had to be big for Amara to admit—especially to him.
But then she added, sharply, ‘What about you?Tess, wasn’t it?’
