Page 112 of Under Southern Stars
I think of Troy—all the signs I’d missed, all the red flags I’d ignored. And now Jack. Beautiful, kind, attentive Jack, who’d brought me coffee and made me laugh and looked at me like I was precious. Who’d been lying to me from the beginning.
The worst part is, I can’t even dismiss him as a fraud like Troy. Jack’s care for me and Madison had been genuine. The way he’d integrated himself into our lives—that had all been real.
But he’d kept this massive, fundamental truth from me. I’d trusted him with my vulnerabilities—financial, emotional, physical—while he’d carefully hidden his own reality from me. I’d let him in, let him see me, believed he was seeing me in return.
And all along, he’d been editing himself, curating the version he thought I could accept.
Another sob wrenches from my chest, this one deeper, primal. I press my fist against my mouth to muffle the sound, terrified Madison might hear.
When had I become this person? This fragile, broken thing who kept giving her trust to men who didn’t deserve it?
The water runs cold, forcing me to finally move. I stand on shaky legs, turning off the shower I’d never actually stepped into. The mirror shows a stranger—eyes swollen, nose red, skin blotchy with grief. I splash cold water on my face, the shock helping to center me.
Madison is right down the hall. We are in a foreign country, thousands of miles from home. I can’t afford to fall apart completely, no matter how much I want to. I have to keep it together, at least enough to get through the rest of this trip. For her sake, if not my own.
I change into pajamas and crawl under the luxury sheets of this guest house that was more opulent than any accommodation I’d ever stayed in. The pillowcase absorbs the silent tears that continue to fall as exhaustion finally claims me.
Tomorrow will bring more confrontations, more decisions. Tonight, I allow myself the mercy of sleep.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
JACK
The McKenzie Estate vineyard stretches before me, rows of carefully tended vines heavy with fruit ready for harvest. Normally, the sight would bring a sense of pride, of connection to this land that had sustained my family for generations. Today, it just reminds me of what I’d hidden from Sophia.
I’d been working since dawn, throwing myself into physical labor to escape my thoughts. My shoulders ache from pruning, my hands raw despite the gloves. The pain is welcome. It gives me something to focus on besides the memory of Sophia’s face.
“You look like shit, little brother.” Charlotte appears beside me, handing over a water bottle. “Though I can’t say you don’t deserve it.”
I take the water without responding. What is there to say? She is right.
“She took Madison to see the west vineyard with Lily,” Charlotte continues, watching my reaction carefully. “Avoiding you quite effectively.”
“Good,” I say, meaning it. “She needs space. I’m giving it to her.”
“Noble.” Charlotte’s tone makes it clear what she thinks of that. “And your plan beyond hiding among the vines is…?”
“There is no plan,” I admit. “I just…I need to respect what she asked for.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, heart racing stupidly at the thought it might be Sophia, then deflating when I saw Nate Crawford’s name instead.
Nate: Jack, mate. Nate Crawford here. Hope the trip's going well. Heard from Maria things might be a bit quiet on Sophia's end. Just checking in, make sure you're all showing her a good Kiwi welcome.
Christ. Even Sophia’s colleagues back home have noticed something was wrong. The ripples of my deception spread further than I’d imagined.
“Bad news?” Charlotte asks, noting my expression.
“Just…reality.” I type back a carefully vague response:
