6

A week has crawled by, and I find myself ploughing through the endless tranquillity of Wattle Creek Police Station. Yesterday's shift dragged on into overtime, thanks to the ongoing drama at Beaumont Creek Jail. And then there's the paperwork—endless stacks of tedious speeding fines, each one requiring my painstaking focus.

Amidst all this, Amelia lingers in my thoughts like an unwelcome guest who refuses to leave. It's embarrassing to admit, but she's been on my mind every morning and every night for over a week now. Her presence is like a persistent shadow, always lurking at the edge of my mind, making it damn near impossible to focus on my job.

I keep replaying our last conversation at her workplace, where memories of that one night resurfaced—the night where the lines blurred slightly, where things almost changed. I can't shake the memory of how close I came to kissing her, how the air between us crackled with undeniable tension. If it weren't for the intrusion, I might have leaned in, closed that gap, and crossed that line I've been dancing around for years now .

Fucking hell.

That was so long ago. Years have passed, and not a single thought or itch of that night has resurfaced. Until now.

Interrupting my thoughts, our superintendent, Gary Faulkner, enters the room, his presence commanding attention.

"Mornin', Mitchell. How's your week been?" Faulkner's voice breaks the quiet of the room.

"Fine. The usual, sir."

Faulkner nods, then gestures toward me. "And your partner? Everything okay there?"

I nod. "Yeah, we're doing fine, sir. No complaints."

"Daniels," Faulkner says with a chuckle. "There's never a dull moment with that bloke."

Fighting a smirk, I nod in agreement. "That's for sure."

"Noticed you clocked off late yesterday. All good?" he inquires, his tone casual yet observant.

"Fine, sir. Just had some things to finish up," I reply, my responses succinct.

Faulkner studies me before offering, "You know, Mitchell, you can finish up earlier today to make up for the extra hours last night."

His unexpected kindness catches me off guard. "Sir, I don't think—" I begin, but he cuts me off, his tone firm and decisive.

"Look, son. You do a damn good job around here, Mitchell. It's fine. Go on, get out of ‘ere a bit earlier today," he insists, leaving no room for argument.

Grateful for the reprieve, I nod. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate it. "

With that, Faulkner exits the lunchroom, leaving me to contemplate his gesture. It's a rare moment of compassion in a job that often feels isolating.

Faulkner's mention of Sebastian brings another thought to mind; there really is never a dull moment with that bloke. Don't get me wrong, I love my job. It's been my passion for as long as I can remember. But lately, I can't shake the feeling that something is missing. There's a longing for excitement, a need to sort things out before I become a grumpy fuck like my father.

That man takes the definition of ‘cunt' to a whole new level.

Despite Mumma's sunny disposition, which one would think might lighten his mood, he remains unchanged. I can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Xavier, who often bears the brunt of his foul temper as his right-hand man on the farm.

Seems like things never change with her. I snort, shaking my head at our predictable family dynamics.

As Xavier and I sit on the back deck of our family home, the sun dipping low on the horizon, we each nurse a cold stubby, the reward for a hard day's work, well, for Xavier at least—mine's been cruisy. Can't complain.

"So, Liv actually did something useful today," Xav chuckles, breaking the comfortable silence between us. I raise an eyebrow, prompting him to continue.

"Yeah, she held the shearers for me while I did all the work," he says, shaking his head. "That girl, I swear." I can't help but chuckle at Liv's antics. She's always been a character.

"How was work?" Xav asks, turning the conversation to me.

"Good. The boss was pleased with some work, so I finished early," I reply.

"Good stuff. You've been putting in those extra hours, eh?"

"Yeah," I confirm, nodding slightly.

"Well, you deserve it. Cheers to that." Xav raises his bottle, and I follow suit, clinking our bottles together in a silent toast.

"How are you and Isla doing?" I inquire. "Especially, you know… after the wedding and everything that's happened."

Xavier's expression shifts, a flicker of discomfort crossing his features. "Isla's—she's good," he replies, a bit too quickly. "Yeah, we're good."

I raise an eyebrow, too perceptive to not know when something is up. Something is in fact up, and I can see it all over Xavier's face. I watch as he gulps down the rest of his beer, avoiding my gaze.

"You sure?" I press, knowing Xavier well enough to sense when something's not quite right.

Xavier downs the rest of his drink, and I can see the nervousness written all over his face. Apart from his wedding, I don't think I've ever seen him this jittery.

He clears his throat before blurting out, "Isla's pregnant."

Well, fuck.

I'm taken aback by his announcement. That's… that is definitely not what I was expecting.

"Oh. For real?"

Xavier responds with a snarky comment. "Nah, I'm lying, Brad," he scoffs. "Yes, for real!"

"Pregnant?" I repeat, trying to process the information. "But... how? "

Immediately, I mentally kick myself. Of course, I know how . That was a dumb question. Judging by the look on Xavier's face, it's like he knows exactly what I'm thinking.

"Do I really need to tell you how?" he says with a smirk.

I roll my eyes. "No, I'd rather not. What I should've asked is, when did you two find out?"

"A week ago," Xavier admits, looking sheepish. "It's still early days, and we weren't planning on telling anyone yet. Fuck, I wasn't supposed to say anything."

I can't help but shake my head. Trust him not to be able to keep it together. But in all honesty, fuck, I'm really happy for him. He deserves it.

"All good," I say. "I'm happy for you and Isla. Truly."

"Stop it. You'll make me tear up," he says, playfully smacking my shoulder.

Fucking idiot, he is.

"Nah, I appreciate it, bro. I really do. Fuck, I'm just—" His words trail off, as he takes off his cowboy hat—as Isla calls it—before running a hand through his unruly hair.

"You're what? Are you and Isla both... happy about all this?" I ask, frowning slightly. Fuck, now I really don't know what's going on in his head.

"Bloody oath! Of course we are," Xavier says with a full on smile. "I'm fucking stoked. It's just so—" his voice trails off.

"Unexpected?" I finish for him.

Xavier chuckles nervously. "Yeah, unexpected is an understatement. We're still trying to wrap our heads around it ourselves. But we're excited, you know? Scared shitless, but excited."

"I bet," I say, nodding. "Is Isla doing okay? You know, with everything that's happened recently?"

Xavier's smile fades, and he looks down at his beer, swirling it absentmindedly. "She's been struggling, to be honest," he admits, his voice low. "The whole thing with her dad... It hit her hard. And now, with the pregnancy... It's a lot for her to handle."

"I can imagine," I reply, my heart going out to Isla. She's been through so much, and now she's facing the challenges of pregnancy on top of it all. "She's strong, though. She'll get through this."

"Yeah, she is," Xavier agrees, a hint of pride in his voice. "And I'll be there every step of the way, no matter what."

I clap him on the shoulder, offering him a supportive smile. "I know you will, Xav. Isla's lucky to have you."

As we sit there, enjoying our cold ones, a comfortable silence washes over us. The horizon is lit up with the sun setting, casting a golden glow over everything. The air around us is warm, with a gentle breeze that carries the scent of the earth and distant eucalyptus trees.

"So… Amelia, ay?"

I'm caught off guard by his question. Fuck, it's my fault, really. I asked for her details the other day, so of course, he's curious now.

I whip my head in his direction, my brows furrowing. "What about Amelia?" I ask, attempting to sound casual, but I can feel the tension creeping into my voice .

"Just wondering how she's doing," Xavier says, his tone holding a hint of curiosity.

I shrug, attempting to play it off. "I'm sure she's fine."

Xavier raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Just fine? You did pay her a visit, no?"

"Yes. And?"

"Well…"

"Well then, what?" I reply, a bit more sharply than intended.

"Easy tiger," Xavier teases. "Just wanting to know what would have prompted you to do that."

I exhale, trying to keep my cool. "Just checking in on her. There was an attempted robbery at the florist in town, and she was there."

"Oh, fuck. I heard about that," he says, shaking his head. "So, she was there? Fucking hell!"

"Mhm."

"Is she alright?"

"Yes. From what I've gathered. Medics checked her out before she left."

He watches me for a moment, assessing. "That was… nice of you."

"Just doing my job," I murmur, trying to deflect.

"Mhm, sure," Xavier teases, seeing right through my excuse.

Before the conversation can continue, the back door opens abruptly and Olivia steps out. "I thought I heard your voices."

"Where'd you go?" Xavier asks, clearing his throat.

"I ran to the shops to get some snacks," Olivia explains, "and ran into Amelia. Chatted for a while in the aisles. I can't believe what happened the other day at the shop," Olivia suddenly blurts out. "How fucking scary. Amelia and I were talking about it."

My body goes rigid at the mention of the incident.

"Thank God you got there in time, Bradley."

"Yep," is all I can muster, in a clipped tone.

"Yeah, thank God," Xavier mimics sarcastically, and I shoot him a glare that says shut the fuck up. Xavier nods in response. Olivia furrows her brow, noticing our change in behaviour.

"Why are you both acting weird?"

"We're not acting weird."

Olivia's eyes narrow. "Righto, sure."

I exhale quietly, hoping to dispel some of the tension in the air.

"Why didn't Amelia come back here?" Xavier asks, being the nosy prick he is.

"Oh, she said something about heading to her parents' house for dinner."

Her parents' house? Does she still not live with her parents? I can't help but wonder.

"Does she not live at home?"

"Nah, she moved out a few months ago," Liv replies casually, as if it's no big deal.

Hm. Interesting .

Olivia shakes her head, still puzzled by our odd behaviour. "Well, I'm going inside. See you two later."

As she heads inside, I finish my beer, lost in contemplation. The image of Amelia, navigating life on her own without the safety net of her family home, weighs on my mind.

"I should head off, too," Xavier says, rising to his feet. "Need to help Isla with dinner."

I nod to my brother and follow suit, grabbing the bottles and heading inside.