Andrew shakes his head, clearly reliving the memory with the fond exasperation of a man who has seen things. “Bloody cows,” he mutters.
I can’t help but laugh. That’s my in. “Actually… speaking of cows,” I say, raising a hand, “I once got headbutted so hard by one, I swear I saw stars. Launched me straight into next week.”
Sandra snorts into her water, and the ripple of laughter that follows makes me feel somewhat satisfied at my overhearing, no doubt. What I don’t add is the part about Kevin the Asshole—because there’s no way to tell a story about that devil buck without throwing in a few colourful obscenities, and now is definitely not the time. This, of course, turns the conversation toward farm work.
“So, you work on a farm? What’s that like?” Andrew asks, propping his elbow on the table. “Do you have farmhands? Or is it all you?”
“A bit of both,” I admit, picking at my lamb. “I’ve lived on a farm my whole life, but these days, I work mostly with my older brother. We’ve got help for the heavier stuff—machinery, fencing, mustering when we need it—but I still get stuck into plenty of it.” I shrug, feeling a small smile tug at my mouth. “Honestly, I prefer the mornings. After I drop Teddy at schooland head out there? The routine makes sense. It’s quieter. Easier.”
Sandra nods, studying me with a thoughtful gaze. “That sounds like hard work,” she says gently, “but it suits you. You’ve got that capable energy about you.”
Before I can thank her, Lily leans across the table, wide-eyed and excited. “Do you have horses?”
“Two, actually. Blue and Duchess.”
And just like that, the next chapter of the conversation begins—one question unfolding into another, stories spilling freely, like wine refilled without asking. Laughter ripples, and the knot in my chest loosens another notch. Then, Tim, calm as anything, sets his fork down and asks, “Ah, so you’re Bradley Mitchell’s sister, aren’t you?”
I freeze for a moment before plastering on my practised smile. “That’s me. The youngest Mitchell.”
Sandra tilts her head, fork poised mid-air. “Mitchell? As in your colleague, Bradley’s sister?” She turns to her brother. “That right, Sebastian?”
Sebastian gives a tight nod, his mouth set in a hard line.
Sandra’s face lights up. “Well, isn’t that something? I thought you looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place why. What a small world.”
My stomach dips at that, a slow, sinking thing I’ve known my whole life. The second Bradley’s name is mentioned, it’s like someone gently folds me up and slots me back into his shadow, precisely where I’ve always been. He’s the respectable one. He’s the one people admire, thedependableMitchell.
“He’s a good man,” Stephanie adds, smiling as she serves another helping of lamb. “Always respectful when he calls. Speaks so highly of his family.” Her eyes settle warmly on me. “And look at you… so young and beautiful. Working on your family’s farm.”
The compliment lands softly, but it still makes my shoulders tense. I know she means it. I really do. But it doesn’t make me feel any less awkward. It conjures up images of Sunday dresses and polite smiles while grown-ups gushed over Bradley and Xavier like I wasn’t even in the room. I adore my brothers. I do. But even the kindest spotlight can leave you stuck in someone else’s glow. And the irony? I actually like attention. I feed off it sometimes. But confidence isn’t a constant. It’s something I dial up when needed—smiles, spark, all of it on cue. Just not now.
My eyes lift without permission and collides with Sebastian’s. He’s watching me. Not angrily. Not even warmly. Just like he’s seeing straight through me. Noticing the way my shoulders are stiff, how I’m pretending the praise doesn’t make my chest feel tight. It’s unnerving, and I don’t like it.
I want to look away first, but I don’t. So he does, clearing his throat to shift the table’s focus. His eyes flick to his side, and I follow it, already knowing exactly what he’s about to ask.
“Where’s Teddy? And Timmy?” he says loudly, catching everyone’s attention.
Sandra glances toward the yard. “Oh, they slipped off whilst everyone was chatting. They’re outside.”
My stomach dips. I didn’t even notice him leave—and I feel like I should’ve. Guilt punches through me as I push back my chair. “I’ll go check on him,” I say quickly, already rising.
The air outside is cooler now, fresh. Timothy’s on the trampoline, mid-flip, shouting, “Watch this!”
Teddy sits alone on the wooden deck, cars lined up in front of him, head bowed. I ease down beside him, careful not to crowd. “Hey, champ. Not feeling the trampoline?”
His fingers continue tracing the grooves in the wood. He doesn’t respond straight away, then murmurs, “It’s too noisy.”
His honesty tugs at something deep in me. I swallow back the urge to tell him I love loud. That noise feels like life to me. Butthat’s not what he needs. I remember something I read late one night—some article about supporting kids like Teddy: validate first, then offer tools. “Yeah,” I say gently. “It can get too much sometimes, can’t it? When it feels too loud out here, you can tell me, and we’ll find a quieter spot together. Just you and me.”
His fingers pause on the car he’s nudging. He glances at me, quick as a dart, then drops it to the ground, shoulders noticeably relaxing. I think he liked that answer, even if he won’t say it out loud. I fill the silence so it doesn’t turn heavy. “This morning, I helped my older brother with the cattle. Nearly lost my boot in the mud. Again. Pretty sure the cows were laughing at me.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. It’s barely there, but it’s enough to make my chest lift. “You work on a farm?”
“Sure do.” I lean back on my hands. “Born and bred. Even if my brothers think I’m useless half the time.” His eyes lift. I’ve got his attention now. “How about this? One day, I’ll bring you out to my farm. You can meet Blue. He’s one of my horses.”
His gaze narrows, testing me. “You have horses?”
“Mhm.”
