Page 62 of The Science of Attraction

God help me.

“—and something about did he realise how hard he was making my life and that he was throwing away all the advantages I never had, and... well, you get the picture.”

I did. I also knew, as did my sister, that none of that was true. Connor was hard-working and honest. Whatwastrue was that Bron was scared for her son. She wanted an easier path for Connor than she’d had, but if she wasn’t careful, she was going to push him away. “I take it he’s pissed?”

Her voice broke. “You might say that. You might also say he’s refused to talk to me since, even though I’ve apologised.” She paused and I sensed somehow there was more.

“Come on. Spit it out.”

I caught a broken sob, then, “Jesus, Liam. I all but screamed at him that I was beginning to wonder if he was using the bullying thing as an excuse to not go back next year.”

I dropped my chin to my chest. Fuck me.

“I know, I know,” she wept. “It was the crappiest thing I could’ve said and I didn’t mean it. I’ve apologised a dozen times already. I’m fucking everything up, and I don’t know what to do. I’m the worst mother.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” I tried to calm her down, ignoring the insistent rapping on the glass behind me. “You’re a great mum, Bron, but you need to take a breath and rethink this whole school thing. Connor did mention an apprenticeship at one point. That’s a great option. Maybe raise it again and see?—”

“But university?—”

“Isn’t for everyone,” I pointed out. “And what you’re doing right now isn’t working. It’s probably making him more determined not to listen. You remember what that’s like, right?”

She gave a wet, teary snort. “Yeah, touché.”

“Maybe it’s time to sit him down and own up to exactly whyyou’re so worried. Tell him more about his arsehole dad. He’s old enough, Bron. He deserves to know. Connor’s a good kid. He’s never gonna end up like his father, and in your heart, you know that.”

My sister fell silent for a long minute. She blew her nose and sighed. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?” It was a reluctant offer. Bron and Connor really needed to start working things out together without using me as a buffer.

Another longer pause, then, “No. But thanks. I’m his mum, after all. I’ll go eat a fridge load of humble pie and let you know how it goes.”

I smiled. “That’s my girl. I’m here if you need me.”

“Thanks, Liam. How’s it going up there in the back of beyond?”

I glanced again in the direction of my cottage, and to the accompaniment of more rapping on the window, I answered, “It has its ups and downs, that’s for sure.”

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

Jules

Twenty minutesafter Liam left and while I was still feeling freshly fucked and more than just a little jelly-legged, I picked my way back through Mum’s newly tilled vegetable garden toward the flat at the rear of the big house. Although a crisp blue sky lay over the valley, heavy grey clouds gathered to the south, promising light rain in the afternoon. As long as it remained rain and didn’t develop into sleet or snow, that was fine with me. I could do without hearing my father’sI told you soringing in my ears.

I opted for a quick shower before I left Liam’s cottage, finding the idea of wearing his body wash through the day ridiculously enticing. I also didn’t want to risk running into anyone while I smelled of sex and looked like I’d been dragged through a hedge backwards, although the memory of exactlywhyI looked and smelled like that brought a smile to my face.

It always felt strange to have a day off, like I was playing hooky in my own life. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken more than just an afternoon to go fishing. But between lambing, running the station, doing the accounts, and dealing with my father’s constant niggling—I needed to grab a little perspective before I said something that got me in deep shit with either my team or my parents. My parents, or more specifically my father, I could handle, but my team was the only reason I was keeping my head above water, and they didn’t deserve to cop the raw end of my frustration. My team and Liam.

There, I’d said it. Because I couldn’t pretend anymore that spending time with Liam wasn’t an injection of sheer happiness in my life. I liked everything about him. His sexy swagger. His bad-boy looks. His competence. His bossy demeanour—maybeespeciallyhis bossy demeanour—mixed with his readiness to hand the lead over to me when I didn’t even know I needed it. But there was also his sweet side. He was a born caregiver, albeit with a bit of an edge, which only made him all the more interesting.

Thirty-five years old and feeling cared for and safe and protected and like I was someone’s priority was a brand-new, head-fucking experience. Walking into Liam’s cottage at the end of the day felt like coming home in a way I’d never experienced before.

I was good at managing the station. I believed that even if my father and Marty refused to acknowledge it. Tennyson would’ve had a thing or two to say if I was fucking shit up, but he had my back one hundred percent. But it was also taking a toll. It was no easy gig—a lot harder than when I’d been playing second fiddle to my dad, and for the first time, I kind of got the whole control-freak thing he had going on.

Itwouldbe easier if I kept all the decision making in my own tight fist. Easier to just do it all myself and not risk delegating or trusting the experience of my team. But it was also exhausting and stressful and overwhelming—and no fucking wonder my father had suffered a stroke. Hell, I was surprised he’d lasted as long as he had. And he’d never been one to share his burdens with my mother, although I had a feeling that had changed. I hoped so.

But delegating and trusting my team to do a good job, to have faith in their initiative, had been an even harder road in some respects, at least until we all got used to a new way of doing things. I’d been sinking before Liam arrived and I hadn’t recognised it—an admission that startled me. Not with regard to the station so much as to myself.

I delegated to Tennyson and the team a lot more than my father, but there was no one to talk to. No one to offload any of my frustrations to, especially not having Zach there. I certainly couldn’t share them with my father. He’d have been too quick to point out my faults and a better way of doing things—according to him. But I wasn’t my father and I didn’t want to be. And the week with Liam had shone a harsh spotlight on that difference in a way that I couldn’t ignore.

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