Page 22 of Unspoken Hearts
“I can’t believe you tried breaking out again. Do we not feed you enough?” I grunt to them, opening up the toolbox and pulling out what I need.
Yanking off the old, busted lock with some difficulty, I line up the new one and tighten the screws. Letting out a long huff, my breath evaporates into the cool morning air with a puff of steam as my fingers start turning numb.
When it’s tight enough, I jiggle the lock, making sure it’s secure again before looking at the sheep. I point the handle end of the screwdriver at them. “Whoever tried doing this, it wasn’t a good idea. You’re safer in there where the foxes can’t get in. And if you think I'm lying, then by all means, try and find out.”
“Harsh words for livestock, Reid.” I hear Grayson’s voice behind me.
Turning, I see his boyish smirk. I drop the screwdriver back in the metal box with a sharp clang. “I’ve fixed this thing three times in the past year alone, so I thought a warning should be put in place. I don’t know how the rams are that strong sometimes.”
He snickers as I snap the box shut and pick it up.
“Are you done with the horses?”
“Yeah,” he utters as we walk back towards the main house. “Whiskey told me that he misses you, because supposedly we can talk with animals now.”
My eyes roll before he grabs a hold of my arm, pulling me to a stop. I could tell something was on his mind when I first saw him in the kitchen. Grayson has a way of wearing all of his emotions on his face for everyone to see. He’s an open book compared to my quiet, reserved self, who would rather keep secrets buried deep inside.
It’s just easier that way.
“Thank you for last night,” he lets out in a lower tone. He must see the furrow in my brows because he continues quickly, “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I didn’t want Macie to walk home alone,” I counter, my shoulders squaring. “I was being friendly, like you told me.”
His mouth ticks. “I know, but Macie needed us last night. I could tell she was having trouble with Axel leaving, so, thank you.”
“Of course. I’d do anything for her.” And that’s not a lie. I would literally do anything for her if she asked me to.
Sadly, she did the opposite of that when I stood with her on the porch. She pushed me away right when she needed someone, and I definitely felt the sting to my chest like a scorpion striking my soul.
The thought of her being in that house alone already doesn’t sit well with me, but also knowing that she doesn’t have a car anymore in case something happens…
Grayson’s hand squeezes my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts. “I know you would. You’re sometimes a good brother, Reid.” A twinge of humour runs through his words.
Throat drying, I curse myself internally since Grayson thinks I did it forhim, and not the fact that I’ve been in love with his best friend for the past twelve years. I just laid awake in bed the entire morning thinking about her and replaying moments in the past like an endless loop ofstories. The little things I have picked up on over the years from stealing glances at her. The things that made me fall for her. Her bright hair that falls to her bellybutton, her small laugh lines, and the white scars on her back that I’m not sure she knows I’m aware of.
It does make me feel a little guilty that I’ve kept this to myself for all these years, but sometimes it’s easier to keep your mouth shut and bury the feelings than to kill the dream you’ve dreamt for over a decade.
Clearing my throat, I utter with a faint smirk, “You looked like you were enjoying yourself a lot with Laynie.”
The crease between his brows disappears as Grayson’s eyes flare slightly. “Oh, well, she likes to dance.” I don’t miss the slight stutter in his tone.
“Sure.” My voice remains low and husky as I study my brother. I try to smother the grin that wants to consume my face. “Girls like to dance it seems.”
Does he think that I can’t see it?
Grayson runs his hand through his hair, avoiding my eye. “That they do.”
Moving towards the house, my gaze glances over at the smaller one down the hill that’s still under construction.
“I’ll come in for breakfast soon. Just checking on the house first,” I tell him.
I watch his gaze move onto the smaller farmhouse. A brief flicker of envy colours Grayson’s eyes before he quietly walks off.
Going the other way, I walk past the chicken coop to find it empty. Cole must have finished already. No doubt he’s back in bed, sleeping off his headache.
Smiling to myself, I walk along the gravel path to the narrow, double storey farmhouse. It’s far enough away from the main house that I won’t be able to hear my family, giving me the space and silence I’m craving.
Yet to be painted, the porch wraps around the front and sides of the house, and the back yard looks out over Ashwood Creek. With wide windows, pitched grey roof, stone chimney and timber decking, it’s exactly how I pictured it when Dad first asked me for ideas.
