Page 7 of Where the Heart Is

‘Here.’ She handed him a plate and proceeded to take cling wrap off the platters. ‘We’ve got lamb and rosemary pies, creamy chicken puffs, asparagus and prawn rice paper rolls, smoky BBQ cheese sliders, turkey and cranberry rissoles, mini fish tacos, French onion potato rostis, and spicy chilli meatballs.’

His stomach rumbled, belying his lack of appetite a few minutes ago, and he chose one of everything before handing her the loaded plate.

She shook her head. ‘I can help myself later.’

‘Have you had anything to eat at all today?’

Guilt flashed in her eyes as her lips compressed.

‘I’ll take that as a no, so I’m not going to eat a thing until you do,’ he said, laughing when she stuck her tongue out at him.

‘You’re as bossy as I remember,’ she muttered, taking a bite of a chicken puff.

‘As I recall, you were the one always ordering me and Will around.’

The three of them had been inseparable in those latter years of primary school, but all that had changed when they hit their teens. Because he saw the way Mila snuck glances at him sometimes when she thought he wasn’t looking, and the thought of hurting her … it broke him. He couldn’t do it, so he withdrew a little, kept his distance when all he wanted to do was spend more time with her. If they’d been different people with similar goals, he might’ve reciprocated her feelings, but with Mila a confirmed homebody and him desperate to escape Ashe Ridge, they were a giant heartbreak just waiting to happen.

‘Will mentioned you visited a few months ago?’

‘Yeah, I spent three weeks with him in London. He’s relishing the city life but he spends a lot of his time at the hospital too.’

‘He works too hard,’ she muttered, stuffing the rest of the chicken puff into her mouth.

‘Yeah, but he loves it.’

He’d always admired Will’s drive. Ever since they were kids, his mate had wanted to become a physiotherapist and he’d achieved his dream by working hard at school, getting top marks, and completing his degree at Melbourne Uni before heading over to the UK. Like himself, Will had never returned to Ashe Ridge, though Sawyer had no idea why his mate rarely visited his family. Sawyer had his reasons for avoiding this town. What was Will’s excuse?

‘When are you heading back to Melbourne?’

‘Tomorrow,’ he said, slightly chuffed to see disappointment tugging at the corners of Mila’s glossed mouth.

She’d never worn makeup, hadn’t needed to with her natural beauty—blue eyes, high cheekbones, heart-shaped face—but he had to admit the stuff she’d slathered on today for her wedding brought out her features in a way that had him struggling not to gawk.

‘You really don’t like this place much, do you?’ She tilted her head slightly, studying him with an intensity that used to make him squirm—and still did. ‘How long since your family has seen you?’

He shrugged. ‘I catch up with Jocelyn and Phoebe a few times a year. Jocelyn works in a bank in Brisbane and Phoebe’s a pharmacist in Sydney. And Allison’s on the outskirts of town, but you already know that.’

‘Will might’ve mentioned Jocelyn and Phoebe when we chatted a while ago. And I wave at Allison when I see her.’ She paused, pushing some of the finger food around her plate without eating it. ‘I was sorry to hear about your dad.’

‘Thanks,’ he muttered, the familiar pain associated with remotely thinking about his father making his chest ache.

Henry Mann had been a bastard to his wife and kids, and the best thing the old coot could’ve done was curl up his toes in a nursing home in Melbourne. Sawyer had been with him at the end, and even then, his father couldn’t apologise for being a prick all his life. Sawyer had been relieved rather than sad when the old man had taken his last breath. His father had been dead to him a long time before that, and Sawyer thanked the big guy upstairs every day that his mum had left years earlier so she didn’t have to put up with Henry any longer.

‘I’d planned on popping in on Allison this afternoon, then hitting the road back to Melbourne first thing in the morning.’

‘Definitely a flying visit,’ she said, still studying him with that same intensity. ‘Do you miss this place at all?’

‘No.’

Short, sharp, to the point.

One of her eyebrows arched. ‘We had some good times growing up.’

He nodded. ‘We did.’

But he didn’t want to acknowledge those good times because remembering how amazing it had been hanging out at Hills Homestead with Mila and Will would also mean remembering how shit the rest of his life had been.

He didn’t blame his mum for not picking up on his learning difficulties. He’d been the youngest of four kids and even he could see Bernadette Mann had been worn out by the time he’d come along. Jocelyn was sixteen when he’d been born, Phoebe fourteen, and Allison twelve, so he’d been an afterthought or an accident.

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