"We grew up together. Me, Matilda, and Sawyer. They moved in next door when we were all about three. We were always in each other's pockets, especially Sawyer and I. Matilda used to tag along, always complaining that we were excluding her."
Fern gave a slow nod, offering no comment.
"I guess there was a little bit of sibling rivalry going on. Matilda gravitated towards me, only to get one up-ed by Sawyer."
He huffed a humourless breath. "She'd sit next to me in class, follow me around the playground. I didn't understand it then, but what does a four or five-year-old boy care except about football and candy."
Fern lifted her bright blue eyes, calm and listening.
Connor dropped his gaze. "My parents weren't in sync. Dad was away on deployments—he used to be in the Army, you know. All Mum cared about was looking perfect. Going to the right parties, rubbing shoulders with the right people, wearing the right clothes. I don't know why they married. "He shrugged helplessly. "We neverwere perfect. Especially once she found out about my dyslexia. It is mild, but it just made her overprotective."
He twisted the strap of his watch around his wrist. "And then came the fire. We were eight." His voice sounded far away, as if lost in a memory.
"I still remember the smell of that night," he murmured. "Cold air and smoke. Bonfire smoke. The good kind."
His eyes flickered, following something Fern couldn't see.
"It was Bonfire Night. Mum was busy in the kitchen, fussing about some bake sale. Dad... well, he was overseas again." A faint, humourless smile touched his mouth. "He was rarely home."
And the past swallowed him whole.
They were in Sawyer's room with their sneakers on and coats zipped. Excited and trying not to show it.
Sawyer pushed the window up with a grunt, already halfway out.
Matilda's nasal voice cut through the dark behind them. "Where are you going?"
Connor remembered freezing and going 'Oh no, not her,' in his head. He turned to see her—tiny, stubborn Matilda—arms folded, chin lifted in that fierce way she had even then.
Sawyer groaned. "We're just... going out to see the fireworks."
"I want to come."
"No," they both said.
Matilda's face pinched. "Why not? I'm not a baby. I am gonna tell Mummy if you don't take me along," she said, stamping her foot, “Mommyyyyyy...”
Sawyer sighed, exasperated the way only a brother could be. "Alright… alright, cry-baby. We're going tomorrow for ice cream, remember? You can have my scoops, okay?"
"And mine," Connor added, desperate to leave before an adult found them.
She hesitated, then nodded, unhappy, but mollified. She didn't like the cold much, anyway. "Fine"
Sawyer jumped, and Connor followed, not looking back.
Matilda watched from the window until they disappeared.
***
They ran across the field to the paddock, while the sky ahead burst into colour.
Connor could almost taste the air, freezing and exciting. Fireworks boomed overhead, painting Sawyer's grin in reds and blues.
They leaned against the fence, shivering but pretending they weren't.
Sawyer kicked at the dirt. "My dad yelled at Mum again today," he muttered. "He said she bought too many things from the shops again. Mum said she's allowed to spend money if it makes her feel better. But why does she need ten handbags?"
Connor nodded, not sure what to say.
