Page 82 of Branded Hearts

“Oh, well, you’re just in time for tucker, then,” she says with a smile, holding a mixing bowl in one arm while the other flips chicken pieces on a pan.

“Mhm.” I walk past Mum and head over to where Liv is lounging on the couch. She spots me before I can scare her, but I still manage to ruffle the top of her hair and flick out one of her AirPods.

“Get up and help your mother,” I mutter with a stern look.

She gives me a look that clearly says,Sure thing, bud,but my tone is serious, not teasing. I shoot her a glare, still standing over her, and she lets out a dramatic sigh.

“Fine.”

“Good idea,” I say, this timewitha teasing edge.

She gets up, walks into the kitchen, and grabs an apron from the rack. My eyes meet Mum’s, and she winks at me, mouthing,thank you.I nod in approval, feeling a small sense of accomplishment. I head to the steps, calling out to Dad.

“Xav gone home?”

“Ye. ‘Bout fifteen minutes ago.”

Slight disappointment kicks in. For once, I’d actually been looking forward to seeing my brother this arvo. Lately, my mind’s been all over the place. One minute, I’m fine, and the next, I’m worried about everything. Seeing Xav would’ve been a good distraction, a way to break free from my own thoughts for a while. But he’s gone, and I’m left with my restless mind.

What if I mess things up with Amelia? She’s young, with herwhole life ahead of her. She might want to travel, chase her dreams, while I’m stuck here—duty-bound, living the same routine. I can’t stop thinking about dinner the other night. How fucking natural it felt being around her, how easy it was to open up. And that’s not even half of what I want to tell her. Fuck, there’s so much more I want to share. But then the worry kicks in.

I’ll just drag her down. She’s Liv’s best friend, for fuck’s sake.

These thoughts, these doubts—they’re just excuses, masking deeper fears. I need to face this head-on, sort out my shit, and figure out if I’m willing to risk it all for a chance with her.

But, fuck. I’m so tired of these endless questions. I’m sick of the doubts that keep screwing with my head. Just a few minutes ago, everything felt fine. Now, my mind’s gone and fucked it all up. I’m pissed at myself for letting this spiral out of control.

Welcome to my brain.

I need a distraction. With a frustrated sigh, I grab my phone and hit Xavier’s number.

The scent of sweat and metal fills the air as I step into the town’s local gym, Xavier by my side. After I rang him up, I asked if he’d be down for a sparring match. Xav never turns down the opportunity for a brawl—and let’s be real, I’m better at sparring than he is. Whereelse would he have learned how to fight? We’re taught basic self-defence at the academy, and from there, I taught myself more advanced manoeuvres so I’d be prepared at all times. As Xavier and I circle each other in the ring, the scent of leather fills the air. Our gloves connect with a satisfying thud as we trade punches, each movement calculated and precise.

“You’re getting slow in your old age, Xav,” I tease, ducking under a swing and landing a jab to his ribs.

“‘Old age,’ this cunt. I’m a year older than you—relax.”

We circle each other again, my muscles tense and ready. The gym’s fluorescent lights cast a harsh glow over us, highlighting every drop of sweat and every flex of our muscles. I throw a feint, trying to catch Xav off guard, but he reads it and counters with a swift right hook. I block just in time, feeling the impact reverberate up my arm.

“Nice try,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.

I don’t respond, focusing on my footwork. Shifting my weight, I look for an opening. Xavier’s quick, but I’ve got experience on my side. I fake a left hook and then drive a right jab into his side, making him stagger slightly.

“Lucky shot,” he mutters, regaining his balance.

“Keep telling yourself that,” I reply, my breath steady.

“So, what prompted today’s session?” Xav asks, moving in a circle, hands up.

“Nothing,” I grunt out, throwing a quick jab. “Does something need to prompt it?” Xav gives me a look, not buying it. He sidesteps and counters with a left hook that I block just in time.

“What, can a guy not spar with his brother just because? Fuck me,” I mutter, dodging his next punch.

“No thanks. And no. Especially not if it’s you,” Xav retorts, his eyes narrowing as he throws another punch.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I grunt, feeling the sting of his hit on my shoulder.

“It means,” Xav says, circling me, “you’ve got something on your mind. You always do when you call for an impromptu session.”

---