Page 102 of The Science of Attraction

Zach shook his head. “You won’t get any answers that make you feel better.”

He was right and I knew it. “Doesn’t matter. Who knows if I’ll ever set foot back on this station after today?”

Zach’s gaze followed Marty up the drive. “Fair enough. But I’ve made my peace with what he did a while back. This fight is yours, brother.” He stuck his hand through the open window and we bumped fists. “I’ll call and give Luke a head’s up and then I’m heading home. You want me to check on Liam before I do? Let him know you’ll be there soon?”

I nodded. “Thanks.”

Zach grabbed me in a hug and kissed my cheek. “Don’t let him get to you, brother.”

“I won’t. He’s not worth it.”

Zach studied me, his eyes narrowing. “Make sure you remember that.” Then he pulled out his phone and I left him to his call.

I made my way to the woolshed with Hopper at my heels, the clear heat of the sun warming my back, the crunch of gravel under my boots suddenly nostalgic. The thought hit me like a sucker punch.Could this be my last day on the station?My last time walking up this drive.I swallowed back the tears and reached for righteous anger instead.

In the distance, a quad droned on the track to the pump house and a small dust cloud rose in its wake, along with Chip’s familiar bark. Ten must’ve taken him along for the day. The murmuring of a small mob of ewes and lambs grew in volume to fill the air as I approached the yards, dozens of eyes watching me warily.What are you going to do to us this time?

“Marty, wait up,” I called to his retreating back, but although he turned and saw me coming, he didn’t stop. The only answer I got was the bang of the woolshed door closing after he slipped inside. “Stubborn old man.”

I slipped into a jog and quickly followed, making it up the ramp and into the woolshed before pausing for a second as my eyes adjusted to the gloom. “Marty?”

Silence.

“Marty! You can’t hide from me.”

A snort of disgust was followed by, “Not scared of you. Whaddya want?”

I spun to find him standing about ten metres away in the office, the door to the gun cabinet above the desk standing open before him.Dammit.“I just want to talk.”

“I don’t. Go away.” He finished loading the hunting rifle he had in his hands and began packing ammo into his knapsack. “I’m gonna sort out that wild pig by the two-river switch. You lot are fucking useless shots.”

I tried to keep my voice calm. “It’s on the plan for next week. You shouldn’t be hunting, Marty, you know that. It’s not safe.”

He spun around and glared at me. “You can’t tell me what to do. It’s not your station and likely not going to be, is it? So, go away.”

“Not until I say what I came to.” I started toward the small room. “You just had to tell him, didn’t you?”

“You’ve got nothing to say I’m interested in.” Marty turned his back and zipped the knapsack. “I did what had to be done. Your father had a right to know. What you two were doing behind his back was disgraceful.” He shouldered his knapsack, then closed and locked the cabinet with trembling hands. “You were raised better than that. Bisexual? Pfft.” With his back to me, he spat on the wooden floor. “Just another name for perverted.”

I blinked at the venom in his words, tears stinging at my eyes. Zach had been right. I wasn’t going to get anything except hurt trying to understand this man.

“There’s only one perverse person in this shed and it’s not me.”

Marty locked the gun cabinet and slid the key back into the lockbox. “Think what you like, you’re no better than your brother.”

Something in me snapped. “Don’t you dare say his name. Zach’s a better man than you any day.”

Marty shouldered his knapsack, reached for his hunting rifle, and turned to face me. But his sluggish feet didn’t move in time with his body and he tripped, arms flailing. The gun jumped from his hands and he reached to grab it as he toppled.

White fire lanced through my chest.

An explosion of pain.

The impact threw me sideways into the wall.

Marty’s horrified cry sounding somewhere in my head.

Words crumbling in my mouth.

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