Page 89 of The Geography of Happiness

Derek raised his hands. “Guilty as charged.” Then he smiled. “Todd and Graham don’t know the grown-up Spencer like I do. The man I’m so fucking proud of. The man I have to thank for everything I’ve achieved and who I am. So, sue me if I want them to meet that guy before you hare off on your big adventure.”

A thought that didn’t sit well in my stomach.

We sat in silence on my bed as I slowly digested Derek’s words. It felt like I’d spent twenty years peering through crackle glass, the image of who I was, who we all were, blurred in my brain, frozen in old ideas. And now the glass had been shattered.

When I’d left the farm, I hadn’t left that sad, angry boy behind at all. He’d simply moved into the shadows and been quietly driving my life ever since while I’d believed the grown-up me was actually in charge.

Until Terry walked into my life and turned his brilliant blue eyes on me.

Until I wanted something more.

Until beingfreestarted to feel like the trap I thought I’d been avoiding.

Derek broke the silence between us. “In case you need to hear this, there’s a big part of you that’s built for caring, Spence. And you’re good at it. Really good. I think that’s why you became a vet. But no one has experienced that side of you since you left home because you’re too scared to let them in, and that’s a damn shame. You might’ve been pushed into it unfairly as a kid, but you positively rock at loving and caring for people. We should know.”

I thought of Zach and Luke, and Holden and Gil, and Jules and Liam, and Matt, and all the people I’d been so careful to slot into my life in ways I didn’t have to feel too much or get too involved. And I thought of Terry and Hannah who refused all attempts I’d made to do the same with them.

I scrubbed the tears from my face. “We barely spent a few days together.”

“And a month of talking every day since,” Derek corrected.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, then shook my head and opened them again. “I’m going to Adelaide, Derek. It’s an amazing opportunity and it’s what Terry wants as well. He’s not ready to try anything.”

“And yet you can’t stop thinking about him.”

I let out a sigh. “That means nothing in the long-term. Jeez, look at you and Kath—shit.” I grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” he said irritably. “And don’t use my failed marriage as an excuse. Sure, Kathryn and I didn’t work out and I’m fucking gutted about that. But I’d do it all over again, given the chance. We had some great times and we brought two amazing kids into the world. I wouldn’t change that for anything. And if I’m lucky enough to fall in love a second time, I’ll do it again in a heartbeat.”

I stared at my brother, wondering when he’d become so smart. Just weeks into a separation, it was a gutsy thing to say, not to mention fucking miraculous.

I groaned and fell back on the bed. “I’m a fucking mess, D. And I have no idea what to do.”

He laughed and patted my leg. “None of us do, big brother. Not a single one. We’re all just faking it. Now talk.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Terry

I staredat the screensaver of Lake Tekapo, which had replaced Spencer just a few seconds before, and shook my head.I’ll be looking forward to it?Dammit. I groaned and banged my forehead on the desk. Then I banged it a second time just because I could.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

I’d spent a week drumming up the courage to end the madness of all the daily calls and had just failed dismally. I deserved every ounce of heartbreak coming my way because the only place this was headed was a world in which Spencer and I couldn’t even be friends. But not talking to him every day seemed just as bad.

If I’d thought returning to Painted Bay would put an end to all the silliness of the Mackenzie, I was wrong. The first few nights back in my home were bliss. Sleeping in my own bed, the comfort of familiar surroundings, my friends and family rallying to my side and being there for Hannah. It felt... good. Easy. Safe. Nothing out of place. No temptation. The familiar busyness kicking in so I didn’t have to look too hard at my life and whereI was going. And no sexy veterinarian screwing with my feelings and making me think I could have... more.

But there were some disturbing differences. Like the way I watched the tides roll in and out of Painted Bay and saw mounds of pillowy golden tussock instead. I missed the crisp air in the morning, the clarity of the rivers and lakes, and the way the snow-tipped mountains framed every view for hundreds of kilometres. I missed the sound of the station utes tearing up and down the drive, the laughter of the shepherds, the distant murmur of thousands of merinos in the yard, and the smell of lanoline in the air. And when I walked down to the beach for my first swim of the year, I thought about the lake on Miller Station and the water felt too warm. The promise I’d made to myself to push my boundaries, a distant memory.

And then there was Spencer. The first call came the night we arrived home. I grinned like a fool when I saw his name on the screen. We’d spoken most nights since, and it wasn’t like I could lay the blame at Spencer’s feet since I initiated the calls as often as he did.

Our eveningchatshad become a happy habit that I couldn’t or wouldn’t break. They lasted anywhere from ten minutes to an hour or more, often with a beer in hand. If Hannah was around, she’d rush to answer the call first and the two of them would chat for a while before I jumped on. Sometimes we talked in my car while I waited for Hannah’s dance class to finish since she was still helping out. Other times I called once she was asleep and I was stretched out on my bed.

We’d learned a lot about each other in the four weeks since I’d left the Mackenzie. I’d told Spencer things that I hadn’t told another soul. And on the few days we couldn’t connect, I missed his voice like crazy, which only went to prove it was a bad idea. Ending things was gonna hurt like a motherfucker. The coward’s option was much easier. With Spencer leaving for Adelaide inJanuary, he’d be too busy to keep this up, and I would simply back off. Easy as that.

“Dad? Are you done?”

Hannah’s question jolted me out of my fugue and reminded me Judah was waiting. I dragged my fingers through my hair and took a few deep breaths. Then I headed for the kitchen where Judah was seated at the island, talking and laughing with Hannah while his service dog, Mickey, lay sprawled on the tiles next to Gabby forcing me to step over them both.

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