Page 22 of Branded Hearts

Am I doing something wrong? Do I need to put myself out there more?

I yearn for a love like my sister Kat’s, to be married someday with kids. But when will that happen for me? I know I’m young, but these thoughts throw me off balance. Just as I’m lost in thoughts of Bradley, another text pops up.

My heart races as Dahlia calls for help, pulling me from thoughts of Bradley. Panic sets in momentarily as I juggle Liv’s requestandmy swirling emotions. Flustered at work, embarrassment floods through me—how could I let myself get worked up over a guy, especially here?

It’s absurd.

The thought of seeing Bradley again, after the other day, adds to my nerves. A tingle spreads through me, excitement and anxiety swirling in my stomach.

Butterflies? Maybe. I’m not sure.

What if he’s there?

Suddenly, I find myself hoping he is.

As I pull into the long dirt driveway leading to the Mitchell’s house, my heart flutters like a flock of startled birds. The sight of their farmhouse nestled among the fields brings a smile to my face, despite the nervous flutter in my stomach. It’s a modernised farmhouse, a converted barn with thick stone walls and oak beams, giving it a rustic charm that I’ve always admired.

But as I drive further up the dirt path, my questions from earlier are answered, and not in the way I wanted. My heart sinks as I realise Bradley’s ute is parked right there.

Of course, he’s home.

My stomach churns with nerves and disappointment, completely contradicting my earlier thoughts.

Yeah, that part of me earlier, the one that secretly wished he’d be home? It can take a flying leap, for all I care. Because right now, my stomach is doing somersaults!

I take a deep breath to calm myself, but it’s useless. Sitting in the car, nerves and uncertainty whirl around me. I try again, taking another deep breath to steady my racing heart. I smooth out my skirt, adjust my shirt, and fiddle with my gold rings—all nervous habits I can’t seem to shake.

Why bother? Bradley won’t care what I look like.

Chuckling at my own silliness, I pull out my phone and quickly text Olivia.

Minutes pass, but there’s no response.

Damn you, Olivia.

Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I step out of the car and make my way to the front of the house, up the wooden stairs. The front door is open, with the screen door closed. I tug on the handle, finding it’s unlocked. Do I... just walk in?

Well, you’re no stranger, Amelia.

Glancing around, I see no other cars apart from Olivia’s and Bradley’s, so I assume their parents aren’t home. I check my phone again—still no text back from her.

Alright, let’s do this.

I walk in, figuring Olivia has to be around somewhere. As I step inside, the familiar warmth of their home surrounds me, easingsome of my nerves.

“Olivia?” I call out, hoping for a response. But the house remains quiet, the only sound is my own footsteps echoing in the hallway. I walk further into the large open lounge room, where the kitchen and dining room are, and find nothing. The quietness of the house unsettles me. There’s no sign of Olivia.

Or Bradley.

That’s a relief.For now.

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I decide to check upstairs. As I head up the staircase, I notice the main bathroom door is slightly ajar down the hallway. Olivia must be showering.

But why would the door be open? Maybe she’s airing it out? Or does she just like living dangerously?

As I get closer, my heart starts pounding. What’s this weird feeling? I shouldn’t be doing this—I know it. But Olivia wouldn’t mind, right? We’ve seen everything of each other.

With hesitant steps, I draw closer, the floorboards creaking under my weight.

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