He hesitates, then pads through the sliding door when I open it, casting one last glance toward the hallway before disappearing into the backyard. He wouldn’t maul anyone. Well… probably.
But in our world, with a dog trained the way he is? You don’t take that risk. Not with strangers. My parents would’ve called first. Bradley would’ve texted. My brain runs through the possibilities as my steps fall heavy across the floorboards. I pull the door open and stop cold.
Because staring back at me isn’t Tara.
It’s a pair of ocean-blue eyes I recognise all too well. Eyes I never thought I’d see on my front step.
4
Olivia
The house from the ad sits tucked back off the gravel road. White weatherboard with a wide front veranda that wraps around like a hug. The person behind the phone had been vague, just an address and a “see you then”, with a smiley face.
No name. No clue.Odd.
I finally decided I’m really doing this. After the chaotic shitshow of a morning—hay deliveries late, a pipe burst near the barn, one of the cows decided today was a great day to crash through a fence—I’d already been one minor inconvenience away from lighting a match and walking off into the sunset. By lunchtime, I’d sweated through two shirts and bruised my hip on a gate latch. Throughout it all, Zoe’s text from the other night replayed in my mind.
Just go for it. You’ve got nothing to lose, Liv.
And I’m telling you, it echoed in my head for hours. Though she’s not wrong. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the ad since the day I saw it. By the end of the long, muddy, mucked-up day, I’d made my decision. Because surely,surely, whatever was waiting for me here had to be better than another day spentscraping cow shit out of my boots and wondering if this version of life was really mine.
You only live once, right? And thank fuck for that, because there’s no way in hell I’m doing all this shit again. Pun intended.
I walk up the path, dust still clinging to my boots from the farm—a fresh pair, though you wouldn’t know it looking at them. My nerves are buzzing, a low-level static under my skin. This could be a complete disaster. Or it could be something. I knock three times and wait, trying not to overthink my decision in coming here. The door swings open, and a tall frame takes up the entire doorway immediately. A pair of greenish-blue eyes lock on mine.Familiar eyes.
“Sebastian?” The name falls out before I even register saying it.
His brow pulls tight. “Little Mitchell?”
Oh, God.
“What… what are you doing here?” Great. Brilliant. Way to sound composed.
He leans a shoulder against the doorframe. “I live here. What areyoudoing here?”
I blink, gripping my phone tighter. My mind goes completely blank for a beat before the words tumble out. “I’m here for the ad.”
He just… stares. Like he’s trying to jam a puzzle piece into a space it clearly doesn’t belong. His mouth opens, closes, opens again, but nothing comes out. “The…” he manages.
“Well?” I lift my brows, tapping the toe of my boot against the step. “Are you gonna invite me in or what?”
After the day I’ve had, my patience is hanging by a thread. Which is ironic, considering I’m apparently applying for a babysitting position that requires peak patience and saint-level calm. Sebastian lingers in the doorway a moment too long, thoselight eyes narrowing slightly like his brain’s still catching up. Finally, he steps aside.
“Thanks.” I stride past him, doing my best to ignore the way the house smells. Fresh coffee, clean laundry, and something warm that makes my chest ache in a way I don’t want to name. The place is unexpectedly nice. A long, timber-floored hallway runs through the centre, leading into a wide, open-plan lounge and kitchen. It’s all sun-drenched walls, high ceilings, and quiet charm. The lounge is a minefield of tiny Lego towers and tiny cars, all in colour-coded piles. My lips twitch at the sight. Somewhere in the background, a dog barks sharply, only once, then goes quiet.
There’s a familiarity here.
Sebastian finally appears behind me, brow furrowed, that same confused expression still fixed in place. I frown. “Why do you look so confused right now?”
“That would be because…” He rubs his jaw. “I am.”
“But… I texted you?”
“You texted me?” he mimics, dryly. “No, you didn’t. I don’t even have your number.”
My frown deepens. “Okay, well, I saw the ad on the board in town. Messaged the number. Got sent this address. I assumed it was you.”
“It wasn’t.”
