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“No way! She actually kicked him in the nuts?”

“Oh yeah!”

“Jake, please. Can we change the topic to something a bit lighter? We do have a guest,” Mum asks, shaking her head at his antics. I swear Jake has told Oliver about every single awkward encounter I’ve had in my whole life. To Oliver’s credit, he seems unphased. He sips his tea and smiles over the rim of the mug. At least I hope it’s a smile. And not a plea for help.

“I’ll show you around,” I say suddenly, standing up. Jake glares at me, and I glare back. “It’s been a long drive and we need to stretch our legs.” Mum shoots me a knowing look as Oliver and I leave the kitchen and make our way to his car.

“Have I scared you off yet?’ I ask as we cross the front lawn. He laughs, a refreshing sound. One that I’ve missed.

“Couldn’t dream of it. It’s nice being in a house so full of…life.” A strange heaviness settles in the air and I’m forced to remember the way Oliver looked when he randomly showed up on my doorstep. There was a sadness in his eyes I rarely see. A tightness.

“Well, you won’t be saying that in a few minutes. I’m sure the twins will make you want to run right back to the city!”

Smiling at that, he grabs both of our bags out of the boot and we head back to the house. I try to ignore the flutter in my stomach when I see the ease he carries them inside with, the way his arm muscles ripple with the effort. I know he boxes. Seeing even the smidge of him shirtless and sweaty was enough to send me over the edge. What would it be like seeing him actually train?

The house is an old thing, complete with minimal insulation and gutters that always leak. Built in 1894, the farmhouse was one of the first in the area and it’s been passed down from Dad’s side ever since. With only a few renovations since then, it leaves a lot to be desired. There’s the four bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a tiny study I often found myself holed up in throughout high school.

Ever since I started university my bedroom usually gets used by whatever sibling argued the most. This time around it’s Molly, who has made it very clear that she refuses to move for the couple of nights that Oliver and I are here.

So that’s how we found ourselves in the study, staring at the fold-out double bed. Double bed might be too generous. A large single if that.

“I can uh…sleep on the couch?” Oliver offers as he lowers our bags to the ground.

“No, it’s okay. We’ll figure something out.” I feel my face heat up as I consider the possibilities.

Don’t sleep in the same bed as Oliver. Sleep in the same bed as Oliver. I’ve done it before. Would it really be that bad? “Want a farm tour?” I ask him, but it’s really just to get my mind off of the sleeping arrangements. We can worry about that later.

The farm isn’t as big as it used to be. Grandpa had to sell some blocks off to the council when times were tough but the Miller family still owns about ten acres of land, mostly comprised of rolling hills and patches of gumtrees. Eucalyptus always smells like home. It’s something that I only get glimpses of in the city.

As we walk around the house to go look at the veggie patch, Oliver falls into step beside me. “I just don’t know how I could leave a place like this.” His clear voice cuts through the silence.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s so peaceful. I should have brought more books if I knew it was going to be this quiet.”

“I didn’t bring you here to read,” I smile, nudging him with my shoulder.

“What did you bring me here for then?” The intensity in his gaze makes me falter. Green eyes meet hazel, and my brain struggles to find a way out of admitting how I feel.

“I—Oh! The carrots are ready! I should tell Mum; she would love to know!” I ramble, desperate to get Oliver to stop looking at me like that. Like I’m a book in a foreign language he can’t understand. I bend over the raised garden bed and pluck a carrot out, brushing the dirt off. “Straight from the garden.” I hand it to Oliver, who takes and inspects it.

“I must admit I am impressed. Mum used to have a veggie patch smaller than this, but nothing seemed to survive.” My breath hitches as Oliver casually mentions his mum. It’s not something he does often, but he doesn’t seem to notice and continues, his head cocking to the side. “Did I just hear a chicken?”

I nod. “We have a coop just around the corner. Be warned though, they do smell.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a chicken in real life.” Oliver makes me falter once again, but this time for a different reason.

“What? Seriously! You cannot be telling the truth!”

He laughs at my outburst and shrugs. “What can I say? There’s not a lot of opportunities for chicken handling in the inner-city suburbs.”

The chickens perk up as we get closer to their enclosure. Charlie has let them out of the henhouse to roam for the day, but they still all waddle over to us in the hope of food. “Oh my God. There’s so many.” Oliver’s hanging back as I enter the throng of hens, throwing seed here and there. His face is pale as he watches them peck at the ground.

“Oh, come on. I promise they don’t bite. Well, that one does,” I say, pointing to a chicken named Nugget. “She’s ferocious.”

“You tell me that now?” Oliver still hangs back, eyes darting about as he surveys the hens. And by God, are they surveying him back. They make their way over, intrigued by the new addition. “Eden,” he says softly, backing away. “Eden. They’re coming towards me. What should I do?”

I pick my favourite chicken up— Schnitzel— and make my way over to him, making sure not to step on a wayward hen. “They’re friendly, I promise. Or they’re just deciding if you would make a good snack.” I lift the bird in my arms as I step a little closer to him. “You can pat Schnitzel if you want. She’s always the friendliest.” She clucks up at him, eyes almost bugging out of her head.