His eyes dart to where my palm rests, lingering a moment too long before his jaw tenses, just slightly. A frown tugs at his brow, that signature scowl slipping right back into place.
So grumpy, this man.
Before I can needle him further, Teddy shuffles into the kitchen, quiet as a whisper, and tugs at the hem of Sebastian’s sleeve. Instantly, Sebastian drops to a crouch beside him, murmuring something low enough that I can’t make it out. Whatever it is, Teddy nods, clinging a little tighter to his dad’s arm before letting go. Sebastian straightens, grabs his jacket offthe back of the chair, and slings his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”
That’s it. No smile. No warm goodbye. Just the click of the door as it closes behind him. I clear my throat, paste on a bright smile, and crouch to Teddy’s level.
“You ready, champ?”
He doesn’t answer, just clutches his backpack straps tighter. I pretend it doesn’t sting, even though it sort of does. But this is what I signed up for. Slow trust. Small steps. We pile into the car. When we finally pull up at the gate, I hop out and swing around the car, waving like a complete maniac in the hopes it might earn a glimmer of acknowledgement. He doesn’t wave back. Doesn’t even glance my way.One day, kid. One day, you’ll wave back.
For now, I just stand there like a slightly unhinged cheerleader, watching him walk away, settling into the awkward, aching silence of someone still earning her place.
After helping Xavier with the cattle, I rinse the dust off my hands and head into town to meet Josh for coffee. We went to school together. Nice enough guy. Still has that floppy hair and the same overzealous energy he had in year ten. He spends twenty solid minutes detailing his fantasy football league stats, and by the time he’s finished explaining that his job as a labourer is more important than anything else, I’ve mentally redecorated my entire bedroom—twice—and decided I hate my curtains.
Groceries are next on my to-do list. Pasta, veggies, biscuits Teddy might actually eat, and stuff for dinner. For him. For Sebastian, too, though he told me last night I didn’t need to cook for him. Which, yeah, Iknow. But try telling my hands not to reach for fresh basil or the good cheese. I cook when I care. Even when I pretend I don’t. Somewhere between the snacks and the checkout line, it hits me—Sebastian isn’t what I thought. I expected the man my brothers talk about, the one who used to go through women like I go through iced coffees. The charmer, the joker, the one who’d flash a grin and leave wreckage in his wake. But that’s not who I’ve come to know over this past week or so. Not even close. Sebastian is measured.Careful.The definition of guarded, like every thought has to pass through five checkpoints before it leaves his mouth. But of course, he’s changed. He has Teddy now. He’s afather. And because my brain hates me, it chooses this exact moment to do the thing I wish it wouldn’t. It reminds me that the man isobnoxiouslygood-looking. A crime, really. I mean, duh, I’ve noticed. I’m not blind. I’d be more worried if Ihadn’tnoticed.
Sebastian’s tall, broad in that “could bench press a ute” kind of way. Those ridiculous greenish-blue eyes. That sharp, defined jawline. He ticks every box I’ve never admitted to having, and it pisses me off, because I know better. Well… Ishouldknow better.
He’s my brother’s best mate. His partner. Off-limits in every sense of the word. But try telling my stupid brain that when it won’t stop looking at him differently. So, because I am both self-aware and emotionally unhinged, I come home from the shops and launch a bag of pasta into the pantry like it personally offended me. It doesn’t help. If anything, it just reminds me that I’m spiralling. In his house, no less, which feels dangerously on-brand. The truth is, I’ve been struggling. Not in a dramatic, sob-into-my-pillow kind of way, but in the quiet, hollow way thatcreeps in when you’re surrounded by people who have what you don’t. Everyone around me is in love. Amelia and Bradley are sickeningly sweet together. Isla and Xavier practically hum with happiness. Imogen and Harrison, well… they’re chaos and comfort all at once, bickering one second and looking at each other like they’d burn down the world for the other in the next. And Michael, who I genuinely thought had sworn off love, fell for Zoe so hard, he’s still trying to get up off the floor.
It’s everywhere I look. And me? I’m still waiting. Not desperate. God, no. But it would be nice, you know? To have someone who looks at me like I’m their whole damn world. Someone who wants to share more than a six-dollar coffee and small talk about the weather. The dating pool in this town is laughable. Small. Stale. If I have to hear another story about someone’s new bull or the footy league, I’m going to scream. Where’s my all-consuming, can’t-breathe-without-you kind of love? I want the kind of love that crashes in like a storm and doesn’t ask for permission.
Not because I need it to be whole. I’ve been whole all along. But I know what it looks like now, and I’m done pretending I don’t.
By the time I’ve shoved the last bag of groceries into the pantry, my brain is still spinning in circles about Sebastian Daniels being a walking contradiction. Guarded cop on the outside, quiet softness with his kid, a man who used to be Wattle Creek’s reigning ladies’ man, now… slipping through unnoticed. And because my brain doesn’t understand the concept ofstop, it shifts focus again, this time to the growling menace pacing the backyard. Diesel. Sebastian’s demon dog.
He’s been barking since I pulled up. I figured since I’m going to be around a lot, I should probably at least try to win him over. Because dying via dog mauling doesn’t feel like the romantic ending my future love story deserves. I grab the ace up mysleeve: a raw bone from the butcher. Juicy. Meaty. Dinosaur-sized.
When I push the back door open, Diesel’s already waiting, muscles coiled, teeth bared, a low growl vibrating out of his chest like a death threat.
“Okay,” I say to myself, inching forward, bone in hand. “This is fine. Totally fine. Just me, a single girl with a death wish, and Cujo over here. Please don’t eat my face. I have good cheekbones.”
I toss the bone onto the grass. He stops mid-growl, eyes locked on it, then snatches it up with a snap of his jaws. I’m met with silence. Sweet, beautiful silence.
“Well,” I say, brushing imaginary dirt off my jeans. “Turns out the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Who knew?”
A small voice pipes up behind me. “You’re very loud.” I whirl around, nearly tripping over myself. Teddy stands there, gaze bouncing between me and Diesel. My eyes widen. “Wait. Did you just… speak to me? For the first time ever?”
He blinks once and repeats, “You’re very loud.”
I press a hand to my chest, feeling all giddy. “So I’ve been told.”
He hums before tilting his head. “Weird.”
I reel back like I’ve been insulted by a five-year-old. Which, in fact, I have. I can’t bring myself to care because he’s actually talking to me. A full sentence. Hands on my hips, I grin. “Well. Can’t say I’ve been called that before.”
“Daddy says I can’t use that word.”
“Your daddy might be right.”
“Why?”
My grin stretches wider. “Because sometimes words can make people upset. Feel sad. Even if you don’t mean to. You want to be kind, right?”
He thinks about this, brows pulling together, then nods once. “Okay.”
I bite back the ridiculous urge to cry. This kid just gave me more words in two minutes than he has all week. Victory. “Come on, champ,” I say, softer now. “Let’s get inside before your dad comes home and finds me fraternising with his killer dog.”
