Page 65 of Sugarloaf Ridge Lies

What the fuck? What is going on with her?

It’s been impossible not to think of Liv.Im-fucking-possible. Every waking moment. And then she’s in my dreams, her contagious laugh echoing, eyes with hues of sky and earth, untold pain lurking behind them. Above all, it’s her sweet smile that’s like a thunderbolt to the heart.

My thoughts can’t escape her. I’m a fuckin’ sap for falling head over heels for her so damn fast.Not that I had a choice.

“What happened with you two?” Daynah asks.

I close my eyes and pray to be somewhere else. I can’t talk about this. My whole body aches thinking of her, what we have.Had.

“Daynah,” Finn warns.

I open my eyes as my sister shoots Finn a scowl and returns her attention to me. “I thought you two were solid. Seeing you on Anzac Day, you could barely keep your hands off each other.”

“Leave him be, sunshine,” Finn barks.

She hooks her hands on her hips. “What? I’m not allowed to ask?”

“Nope.” Shutting her down, I turn to Finn. “Come gimme a lift.”

He follows me outside, down to the drying shed where the roof and guttering need replacing.It won’t withstand one more storm.I’d do it myself if another set of hands wasn’t absolutely necessary.

“We’ll get this done and then I’ll give you a lift back to the Station.”

He holds up his hands as if in surrender. “Sure. Whatever you need.”

We work in silence. He even helps me hook up the new rainwater tank.I’m the biggest dick in the world. Finn respects that I don’t wanna talk. He’s here spending what little spare time he has putting up with my moody arse. I don’t deserve him as a brother.

Once the job is done, we return to the kitchen. Daynah sips from a steaming cup. The fresh smell of lemon hangs in the air.She cleaned up my trainwreck of a kitchen?A platter of cut sandwiches and side plates are set up on the table. There’s also a tray of scones with jam and whipped cream.

My stomach churns at the idea of food, but I’m grateful for the effort she’s put in.

Not wanting to offend her, I nibble at a triangle with ham and pickles, despite my yearning for something else.

More whisky.

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