Page 29 of Sugarloaf Ridge Lies

“Yeah?” Finn scratches at his temple and smirks.

“She’s different. And when she’s dancin’ with me...” I let out a low whistle as I imagine her thighs surrounding my leg, as we moved to the beat, her tits pressed against my chest, hands teasing the hair at the back of my neck.It’s a miracle I didn’t come in my damn jeans.

“You’re droolin’,” Finn says.

I laugh. “Well, she’s different. I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“What makes you think you will?”

I glare at him. “History has a way of repeating itself.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, well you haven’t exactly picked a winner before. I’ll admit, it’s slim pickings ’round here when it comes to women.”

He’s right, but that’s not what I mean. “No, because ofhim.”

Finn huffs out a breath. “Fuck. You’re your own man, Jer.”

He can say that, but he’ll never truly know what it’s like to know that your father committed unspeakable things. Abuse. Attempted murder on my adoptive father.Murder.

I’ve searched for traces of my birth mum, Skylah, but when searches come up empty it’s only more confirmation of whatheadmitted.She’s gone. He said he’d taken care of her.No matter how hard I look, nothing comes up. It’s a struggle to talk to Daynah about the situation. Anyway, enough about all that.

“So I was thinkin’ about raisin’ some of these garden beds.” I point to the section closest to the gumtrees. “’bout ten inches, or so.”

Finn takes off his hat then rubs his sleeve across his brow. He tilts his head, his dark eyes boring into me. “Still as good at avoidance as ever.”

“Years of practice.” I jut my chin towards the beds in question. “So whaddya think?”

He hooks a hand on his hip and nods repeatedly. “Sounds good. We can mix a bit of crushed granite in with the soil. Apparently, it helps with root rot.”

“You been readin’ up on this stuff?” I’d found an article on the internet the other day that said as much.

He shrugs. “Maybe.” My brother’s too good to me. I’m a piece of shit for pushing him at times. “Probably an ideal time to put lime in the soil too.”

“Reduce the acidity.” I scratch at my temple. “Yeah. Should do that too.” But that shit is expensive. It’s another thing to add to the never-ending list of shit to buy with the money I don’t have. “Later.”

“I’d get onto it now if I were you. Gotta do it in autumn and spring.”

“I’m not made of money, mate.”

“Me either. Just sayin’.”

“I’ll have to do some fencing. Get some cash.”

There aren’t enough hours in the day for the kilometres of fences I need to build to fund this dream.

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