Page 75 of Whispers of Sweetwater

With the night’s stillness around her, she briefly closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled as the starry sky came back into focus. Sweetwater was meant to be a place of peace for her, a hard-won dream she’d built from the ground up. The land, the animals, the people, it was all meant to be her sanctuary. She’d come here to build a future, one grounded in care and community, not caught up in old wounds and unfinished business. She hadn’t expected her path to cross so deeply with someone else’s shadows, but maybe that was part of building something real, stepping into the mess when it found its way to your door.

She looked across the dark garden, landing on the space where Hayden’s LandCruiser sometimes parked. She hadn’t planned on him. No men for the first year, that had been her promise. To herself, but also to her parents. No distractions, no heartbreak, just the business. Just the life she was building. But Hayden wasn’t just anyone. He was steady. Smart. Caring in a way that didn’t draw attention to itself. The kind of man who fixed things quietly, who asked questions and actually listened to the answers. He carried himself like he’d been through storms and come out the other side knowing how to hold ground. His laugh was warm and unhurried, always a beat or two behind the moment, as if he was letting joy settle before sharing it. And he had this way of standing with his arms crossed and a half-smile tugging at his lips, like he could see right through her and didn’t mind what he saw. And when he looked at her, she felt seen. Like the version of herself she’d buried beneath work and responsibility still mattered. Like she was worth holding space for. And for a moment, just a breath, she let herself imagine what life could look like with him in it. Mornings with coffee on the verandah at Sweetwater Acres, looking out over the sunrise-drenched paddocks. His laugh in her kitchen. His hands in the dirt beside hers, building something that lasted. Nights spent tangled in each other, his warmth folding around her like a second skin, her name spoken low against her collarbone. The way he might touch her, with hunger, with reverence. Like someone who saw her for everything she was and wanted to hold all of it.

She shook her head, lips curving faintly.

Not now. Not yet.

But she could dream, she could fantasise, couldn’t she?

A moment later, she heard the soft creak of the gate latch and the crunch of grass underfoot. She turned to see her dad walking back across the lawn, the floodlight behind him throwing his silhouette in long lines across the grass. His stride was unhurried, but purposeful, steady as ever.

Sherlock rose to his feet and gave a little huff as Logan reached the bottom step.

‘All good,’ he said as he joined Brianna, his voice low and reassuring. ‘She’s locked up safe. Verandah lights on. Phone by the bed. She’ll call if she needs us.’

Brianna nodded, comforted by his presence and by the simple certainty in his voice. Then, without a word, they turned and stepped back into the cottage together, with Sherlock padding in behind them, and the screen door clicking shut on the quiet night.

‘She’s scared,’ Brianna said softly.

‘She has reason to be,’ Logan replied. ‘But we’re not helpless.’ He looked at her then, his tired eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness, a father’s pride, and the quiet fear of someone who knew exactly how quickly things could go wrong. ‘You did good today,’ he said again, his voice rougher this time. ‘Hayden too. He’s sharper than I expected. Reminds me of a younger version of myself, when I still thought everything could be sorted with hard work and good intentions.’

Brianna gave a weak laugh, but her eyes shimmered. She crossed the kitchen slowly and wrapped her arms around her dad, pressing her forehead to his shoulder. Logan hugged her back, one hand braced against her back like he’d never stopped doing it, like she was a little girl who was scared of storms.

‘I’m so glad you’re here, Dad,’ she whispered.

He kissed the top of her head. ‘Me too, sweetheart. Me too.’

‘We should call Mum, before we go to bed,’ she muttered against his shirt.

‘Yes, we should, she’ll be worrying herself sick.’

And then, for a moment, the cottage was still. They were in it now. All the way in. And the only way out was through.

* * *

Hayden sat on the front steps of the homestead, a mug of coffee in his hands, the steam curling into the morning air. The sky was pale with early light, and a gentle hush still settled over the property, broken only by the occasional birdcall, horse whinny, and the distant rustle of leaves stirred by the breeze. His phone rested in his lap, the screen dimmed now, but he’d been rereading the same thread of messages for the last ten minutes. From Brianna. Messages sent late the night before, when neither of them could sleep. Quiet, thoughtful texts, vulnerable in a way that made something inside him ache. She’d told him she felt unmoored. That the day had caught up with her, that all of it, the fear, the secrets, the weight of Molly’s grief, had begun to dig under her skin. And he’d replied to her the only way he knew how. Steady and honest. He’d told her she wasn’t alone. That she didn’t have to carry it all. That she had people in her corner. Him included. And then he’d hesitated before sending the last part.

You’ve got me in your corner. For as long as you need, Bri.

He’d meant it. Still did.

With the tap of his finger the screen lit up again, reflecting a photo she’d sent, a blurry picture of Sherlock stretched out by the front door, asleep, paws in the air.

She’d added to it, My silent security system. Currently useless.

He smiled to himself and took another sip of coffee when the distant sound of a vehicle drew his gaze up from his phone. Gavin’s ute rolled through the front gate and into its usual spot beneath the jacaranda tree, engine ticking as it settled. Hayden watched as the door creaked open and Gavin stepped out, wiping his hands on a rag and squinting into the soft morning light.

‘G’day,’ Gavin said as he climbed the steps, two at a time.

‘Howdy,’ Hayden replied.

Gavin paused as he took in Hayden’s quiet posture, the coffee, the phone still in hand. ‘You all good?’

‘To be honest, not sure.’ Hayden’s expression turned thoughtful. ‘It’s heavier than it looks, this thing Jack left behind. For Molly. For Brianna. For all of us, really.’

Gavin eased onto the step beside him. ‘Yeah. It’s like no one’s saying the truth out loud, but everyone feels it. The air’s thicker lately. Even the horses are twitchy.’

Hayden nodded. ‘Something’s shifted. Logan being here, he’s trying to get ahead of whatever’s coming without prying too openly. But the way things are lining up, I don’t think we’ve seen the worst of it.’