Page 1 of Unspoken Hearts
Chapter one
Reid
Ican’tfeelmytoes.
I groan, rolling onto my other side of my comfortable bed. My arm falls against the cold bed sheets and my throat is dry with sleep, making it hard to swallow. Early morning sunlight blinds me momentarily through the small gap in the curtains.
It’s nearing the end of summer, where the mornings are crisp and chilly, and overnight the house seems to freeze. The sun becomes unruly and dry in the afternoons, but in the mornings, dew drips from the grass and trees, mixing with the night air.
As someone who sweats in their sleep, I never wear a shirt to bed. Or shorts. Or socks.
Maybe I need to try it.
Somehow my feet are always numb when I wake up. I’m sure wearing socks to bed would solve the problem, but it’s too much of an effort. And I like the feeling of sleeping freely, since I already struggle enough to sleep as it is.
Pushing the thick, warm covers off, I grab my pants from the floor and a clean shirt. I always leave my coat downstairs with the others, alongwith my filthy work boots. If any of my brothers wore those through the house, Mum would yell at us for hours, despite being adults now. It doesn’t seem to matter to her.
I slip on a pair of socks on and tug at my dishevelled hair, stifling a yawn, before making my way downstairs. The double storey house creaks as I walk down the misshaped wooden staircase Dad built with his own hands. He built this house on his own, which is quite impressive. Six bedrooms, with a small office for him downstairs, a large open-living area and kitchen an alcove upstairs where my younger brother, Cole, has all of his gaming set up. He’s a rookie Supercars driver, but his spare time mainly consists of him going out with his mates or racing online.
Our house is warm, cosy and welcoming, but sometimes overcrowded.At least for me it is…
Stepping as quietly as I can down the spiral stairs, not wanting to wake Mum and my four year old niece, Aspen, who are still fast asleep.
Soft golden lights douse the rustic kitchen in a warm hue. Cole stands with our brother, Grayson, at the bench, guzzling coffee like it’s their lifeline. Dad sits on a wooden stool, flicking through today’s newspaper while sipping on his steaming tea. I don’t get how someone who wakes up this early survives on tea alone, but I don’t question him. He’s done it ever since I was born.
“Made your coffee already,” Grayson murmurs, nodding to the mug on the timber bench.
I grumble out a thanks and down the bitter drink in a few gulps. Caffeine will at least wake me up a little, but he never adds honey to it like I do.
It’s the best way.
Grayson is eighteen months younger than me. He’s the tallest—by two inches—and developed our mum’s fairer looks: dirty blond hair, dark cobalt eyes and a clean-shaven face.
My face must pull sourly, because Grayson snickers. “Is it really that bad?”
“You never add honey,” I mutter, my throat still unsticking from my sleep. He just rolls his eyes.
Cole snorts softly. “You need more than honey to sweeten you up, Reid.” A groan escapes my throat, and Cole chuckles. “Dude, lighten up, it’s just a joke. Or are you still battling that headache?”
“It’s fine,” I murmur, dropping the sweetness comment.
I am sweet, just when I want to be.
Dad listens to our bickering before taping a dirtied hand on the bench, glancing around at the three. “Time for duties. Gray, you’re on birds and the patch. Reid and Cole, take the paddocks. I’ll handle the crops.”
“Easy does it.” Grayson puts his mug in the sink.
Mum comes down the stairs, footsteps light, wrapped up in a woollen blanket. Her pale eyes squint against the sharp light. She walks up to Dad, pecking him on his peppering hair before looking at us.
“You lot are always so loud.” Her voice is thick with sleep.
“We literally didn’t make a sound,” Cole whispers with half-lidded eyes. She smiles pleasantly.
“Go back to bed, Hazel,” Dad murmurs to her as he stands. He makes her look tiny with his height and stature from years of hard labor on the ranch. She just reaches his chest, and is leaner and fairer with freckles and the warmest smile I’ve ever seen.
Mum shakes her blonde bob, cheeks wrinkling as she adds, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Austin. I’ll come out with you.”
“Are you sure?” Dad arches a dark eyebrow, mixed with silver streaks, at her. “It’s chilly outside.”
