Page 93 of Crossed Wires: The Complete Series

Hunter threw him a sideways glare. “Get your bloody foot off my dashboard.”

They spent the next four hours discussing the workings of Farpoint, Hunter bringing him up-to-date on the business end of things. Dylan could tell he was trying to avoid any mention of Annie, an uncharacteristic tension falling over Hunter every time her name was uttered. Dylan had to admit, he was nervous about seeing her. Not because of what he’d thought they were going to be—a couple. But because the second he laid eyes on her, he’d be reminded again that he’d left her best friend in New York. He’d remember the hours lost in passion with Monet. Remember every minute.

Fuck a bloody duck. Had he done the right thing? Was any place worth this?

“Mum’s got dinner cooking already.”

Hunter’s voice jerked Dylan back from his unsettling thoughts.

“She said you’d need a good and proper feed after almost a week eating American tucker.”

Dylan shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad. Except the hotdogs you get at those street vendors. I don’t know how the Yanks can eat those things. Especially with yellow mustard.”

Hunter laughed as he adjusted the chopper’s flight path, and it was only when Dylan’s stomach began to feel a shift in equilibrium that he realized where they were.

He looked out the side window, watching the Farpoint Creek airstrip rise up below them, the never-ending expanse of the Outback surrounding the red-dirt covered tarmac like a loving embrace.

The chopper touched down with a gentle thud, Hunter’s piloting skill infinitely better than his skill at picking a prize stud bull. Dylan let his gaze roam over the wide brown land beyond the air-conditioned cabin, feeling the stirring in his soul he’d expected to feel much earlier.

His chest squeezed tight, his heart thumped hard and he closed his eyes, the sense of being home, where he was meant to be, a bittersweet sensation.

“Before we get out, Dylan,” Hunter began, “I need to say something.”

Dylan opened his eyes and turned to his brother, unable to miss the apprehension in each word. “What’s that?”

“I missed the hell out of you. Farpoint hasn’t been the same without you. But I’m glad you took off for the States. I’m glad you thought you’d find your soul mate on an internet dating site. And I’m glad the airline lost your luggage.”

Movement behind Hunter, outside the chopper, drew Dylan’s attention. The dust from the helicopter’s landing swirled around the ground in great gusts but it didn’t obscure the sight of someone standing beside his old beat-up ute, a hand scratching Mutt’s head as the dog quivered in the truck bed.

Someone? Don’t you mean?—

“But if you think you’ve come back for Annie…”

He slid his focus back to his brother. Hunter’s jaw was bunched. That was it. The only threat visible.

Dylan reached behind the seat, snagged his hat and placed it on his head. “C’mon, brother. I wanna put my feet on Farpoint soil.”

Hunter narrowed his eyes and looked as if he was about to say something else, but thought better of it and opened his door. Hot, dry heat rushed into the cabin, blasting Dylan like a baking oven. He sat still, closed his eyes and drew in a long, deep breath, taking the Australian air into his being. Filling his lungs with it.

It was the most wonderful breath he’d ever taken. And it made him miss Monet more than ever.

You are so bloody fucked, Sullivan.

“Right,” he muttered, snatching his bag from the back before tugging the brim of his hat farther down over his face. “Let’s do this.”

He climbed from the chopper, rounded its nose and found Hunter standing there, looking at the person waiting with Mutt. “What are you going to do if I fall head over heels with her, brother?”

Before Hunter could respond to his teasing jest, Mutt jumped from the bed and raced over to Dylan, bounding around his feet, a big doggy grin on his face. Dylan gave him a pat and a scruff around the ears, the dog’s solid body a reaffirmation he was home. Where he was meant to be.

Just not with who he was meant to be with.

“Anyone would think he’s been neglected by the way he’s carrying on,” Hunter said, nodding at Mutt, who was doing his damndest to get Dylan to scratch his ears again.

Dylan straightened with a laugh. “At least he’s not embarrassed to admit he missed me.”

Hunter snorted and without another word, they began to walk across the airfield toward the pickup together, Mutt trailing Dylan like a dusty shadow.

Stopping beside his brother a few feet from his truck, Dylan looked at the woman standing there, faded grubby jeans covering long legs, her face hidden by the shadow of an equally grubby hat.

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