Outback Sisters

by Rachael Johns

  So why did his departure hurt so bloody much? She stared into the empty tub of ice-cream and, despite her best intentions not to cry over a man who didn’t deserve the time or effort, she began to sob; big, heavy tears that shook her whole body and wreaked havoc with her breathing. In the absence of an actual box of tissues, she stumbled into the bathroom, slid to the floor and tugged on the toilet roll, using it like a continuous hanky to wipe her eyes.

  Could she have done something differently? Broken the news to him more gently? Not been on the defensive from the start? Maybe, but after her horrible argument with Frankie, in which she’d said so many things she didn’t mean, she’d been all off-kilter. Not at all in the right headspace to have a civilised conversation with the father of her unexpected baby. Perhaps she shouldn’t have given him such an easy out. Maybe she should have demanded that he step up to the plate and at least pay maintenance, but she didn’t want that for herself or her child. She didn’t want her baby to feel like it was a burden to anyone and she certainly didn’t want a man who was with her simply because he felt obliged.

  Why did everything have to be such a mess? Why couldn’t Angus want her, and the baby, as much as she wanted him?

  Although Logan had told her his brother was practically a hermit, happy to live in his own little world, she’d spent the last couple of weeks fantasising that she would be the one to draw him out of his shell. She was probably the most stupid woman on the planet.

  Yanking off another length of toilet paper, she sniffed again and blew her nose hard. She craved the company of her sister, who would wrap her arms around her and say all the right things. But Frankie probably didn’t want to talk to her any more than Angus did right now. And calling her mum wasn’t an option, because once she’d explained, Ruth would likely side with Frankie.

  Simone had never felt more lonely in her life—even in those dark, dark times after Jason died, Frankie had always been there with some sort of sixth sense about what she needed. The sad thing was, Simone didn’t really care about Frankie getting together with Logan. Hadn’t she realised at the wedding that those two were perfect for each other? She didn’t begrudge her sister’s happiness, it was simply that she’d expected sympathy, understanding and support and when she hadn’t got any of those things, she’d snapped. She’d lashed out in a way she’d never have done if she wasn’t already an emotional wreck.

  In a matter of hours she’d offended her sister, perhaps irrevocably, and given her baby’s father permission to walk out of their lives. What the hell would she tell the child when it started asking questions?

  ‘Oh God, what have I done?’ she sobbed, thinking what a pathetic sight she must be, sitting on cold, hard tiles, leaning against the toilet bowl, snivelling into double-ply toilet tissue. Thank goodness the girls were still at school.

  Chapter Thirty

  Late Monday afternoon, Frankie had just arrived home from the café when a knock sounded on her front door. She glanced down at Fred and George, who were winding around her legs, demanding dinner and attention.

  ‘That better not be Simmo,’ she told them. Tired of her phone ringing every fifteen minutes for the last couple of hours, she’d eventually turned it off, hoping her sister would get the message. Annoyed, she headed back to the front door, fully prepared for confrontation, but was pleasantly surprised when she opened it to find Logan standing on her porch—his laptop bag slung over his shoulder, a fully stuffed suitcase at his feet and a disheartened expression on his face. In all her anger, she’d forgotten he’d promised to drop by after work.

  ‘I’m not moving in.’ He gestured to his stuff. ‘But I just need a place to stay for a couple of nights while I make other arrangements.’

  In reply, she reached out, grabbed him by his collar and yanked him against her, kissing him hard on the lips and then sliding her tongue in to taste him. She’d never been happier to see anyone in all her twenty-eight years and she didn’t care how many local gossips saw them on her porch, making hay.

  ‘You can stay as long as you like,’ she said, when they finally broke apart to breathe. With him around, Simone was less likely to barge her way in and demand Frankie’s attention. Of course, there were also a zillion other reasons why she wanted him here. ‘I’m so happy to see you.’

  ‘Me too.’ His dejected expression transformed into a smile as he took the hand she offered, picked up his suitcase with the other one and followed her inside.

  ‘How was your interview?’ she asked as she closed the door behind them.

  ‘Not bad. Was a bit hard to concentrate.’ He took off his laptop bag, dumped it on the floor next to his suitcase and looked around. ‘This is a great place. Love that wallpaper. It’s warm but also really modern.’

  ‘Thanks.’ It was weird to think he’d never been here before, when in so many ways it felt like they’d been together forever. ‘Renovating has been my project for the last little while, but I still have to save up to get the bathroom and kitchen done.’

  ‘And they must be Fred and George?’ Logan stooped and peered under the side table in the hallway, where two little furry heads were only just visible, peeking out. He held out his hand and tried to lure them out with soft noises and Frankie looked on, amused. She didn’t get many visitors—apart from Simone and the girls—so the cats were wary of strangers. They had a number of favourite hiding spots they retreated to whenever someone came to the door.

  Yet, to her great surprise, both Fred and George emerged within a few seconds and rubbed themselves against Logan’s hand. ‘I’ve always been a dog person,’ he confessed as the cats allowed him to scoop them up. He held one in each arm and smiled down at them. ‘But I’ve gotta admit, these guys are pretty damn cute.’

  ‘I think so,’ Frankie said, stealing Fred off him and cuddling the cat close. ‘They’re also hungry. Come through to the kitchen and I’ll feed them or we’ll never get any peace.’

  ‘What do you feel like for dinner?’ she asked, when the cats were finally munching their smelly wet food and Logan was sitting at the table sipping a beer.

  ‘You,’ he said, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively as he grabbed her hand and pulled her onto his lap. He kissed her neck, then travelled lower to her cleavage, and all thoughts of cooking flew out the window as warmth filled her from head to toe.

  She laughed, feeling sexy and desirable at his words and his touch.

  ‘You smell really good,’ he whispered right into her ear.

  His warm breath sent shivers down her spine. ‘That’s because I’ve been baking cakes all day.’

  ‘Good enough to eat, even,’ he said, sliding his hands under her T-shirt as he nibbled on her ear. She let out a little gasp of pleasure. Only yesterday she’d been in his bed, but after all that had happened today, it felt like so long ago and she wanted to plaster over today’s horribleness with Logan’s magic touch.

  ‘Go ahead.’ She lifted her shirt off her head, tossed it away and then reached around to unclip her bra and did the same with that.

  ‘Don’t mind if I do.’ He gazed at her a moment as if she were a work of art, before dipping his head and taking one nipple into his mouth as his hand closed around the other.

  She closed her eyes and arched her back, pressing herself closer, loving the feeling as his tongue swirled around her nipple, shooting pleasure right to her core. As his mouth attended to her breasts, he slipped his hand lower, inside her shorts, violating her underwear as he pushed one finger and then another deep inside. She held onto the back of the chair to steady herself as her body began to tense around his fingers.

  Oh, he was so … very … good at this.

  Her breathing quickened and just when she was about to fly over the edge of ecstasy, he withdrew his hand. She blinked her eyes open, confused at his smug expression.

  ‘I said you were good enough to eat,’ he said as he eased her off him. She stood before him, a topless, shivering bundle of frustration, before he nudged her back against th
e table.

  She gazed up at him, her eyes wide, her pulse quickening again as he slipped off her shoes and then tugged her shorts and knickers down her legs. Then he put his hands on her thighs to push them wide before dropping to his knees and hooking her legs over his shoulders. As his mouth touched her most intimate place, she looked sideways to make sure she’d closed the kitchen curtains. That was her last thought before he robbed her of her ability to think any more.

  Much later, after Frankie had whipped up a creamy chicken carbonara fettuccine and they were eating it on the couch, with a glass of wine and a cooking show on the TV in the background, she told Logan all the horrible things Simone had said about her. Sadness overcame her and she tried to hold onto her anger rather than burst into tears.

  ‘I’m sure she didn’t really mean all that,’ he said, reaching up to stroke an errant hair out of her face. ‘We all say stupid things in the heat of the moment.’

  ‘She’s been calling me all afternoon and if I thought she was really sorry, maybe I’d pick up, but I know she’ll only be grovelling because she needs me. The girls will need dinner or she’ll want sympathy over morning sickness or something. Well, too bad. I’m done with being used.’

  ‘Good for you.’ Logan smiled and nodded approvingly. ‘And me, too. I told Angus I quit the farm.’

  ‘What?’ She’d been lifting her glass to take a sip of wine, but halted in midair. ‘But you love it there.’

  He shrugged. ‘Yes, I do. But I’m tired of feeling like my opinion doesn’t matter. Angus refuses to listen to my ideas or budge on most of his and I’ve realised he’s never going to change. Besides, I love my other work too and now I love you, so I’ve got plenty of things to keep me busy.’

  Her heart stopped still. Had she heard him right? ‘Did you just say you love me?’

  ‘Maybe.’ His cheeks flushed and he didn’t quite meet her gaze.

  She put her index finger on his stubbly chin and forced him to look at her. He was the most beautiful thing in the world. ‘Maybe you love me? Or maybe you said it?’

  ‘Neither.’ He grinned and cupped her cheek with his hand. ‘I definitely love you. And I definitely said it.’

  She opened her mouth but the emotion whooshing through her made it impossible for her to speak.

  ‘You don’t have to say it back if you don’t want to,’ he said, gazing down at her. ‘But I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I know it’s happened fast, but I know my heart and I wanted you to know it too.’

  ‘I do love you,’ she managed, before her tears broke loose. Right now all the crap with Simone felt worth it, just to hear those words. ‘More than I’ve ever loved anyone.’

  He kissed the tears on her cheeks and then kissed her properly, taking the wine and putting it on the table in front of them as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. If they didn’t have to work, she reckoned she’d be content to stay there on the couch, in his arms, forever.

  ‘So how’d Angus take it when you told him you’re leaving?’ she asked, after Fred and George had jumped up to join in the snuggles.

  Logan gave the little brown bundle a chin tickle as he spoke. ‘You know, I’m not sure, because I hit him with the baby news before he really had the chance to say anything. When I left, he was standing there liked a stunned mullet who’d just swallowed a whole lemon.’

  Frankie couldn’t help but snigger at the image. ‘I wonder if he’s made contact with Simone? How do you think he’ll feel about being a father again?’

  ‘Fuck knows.’ Logan shrugged. ‘But he’ll probably come round eventually. He can be a right wanker, but he was a doting dad to his son and he was always good with Olivia. Whether he and Simone get together or not, he’ll be there for the kid, I’m sure.’

  ‘That’s good.’ A tiny part of Frankie wanted to go see her sister or at least call to check she was okay, but then she remembered Simone’s hurtful words and she settled back into Logan’s lovely strong arms. She was still angry and didn’t want that feeling to ruin the novelty of having her boyfriend—her boyfriend who loved her—to stay the night.

  ‘What is Olivia going to say about your big bust-up with Angus?’ she asked, stroking her fingers across his red knuckles, which he’d admitted were sore from punching Angus in the face.

  He sighed. ‘That’s one conversation I’m in no hurry to have. Let’s forget our sibling woes tonight and focus on enjoying the time together.’

  ‘Now that,’ Frankie said, ‘is one of the best ideas you’ve ever had.’

  Chapter Thirty-one

  As Angus stopped the ute and looked ahead to his empty house, an unfamiliar feeling sat heavy in his chest. Was he lonely? He couldn’t remember ever feeling this way before. Even when Liv was in Perth and Logan off on one of his work trips, he never felt like the recluse they teased him about being. Most of the time he loved the solitude—he could watch whatever he wanted on TV, eat a packet of biscuits for dinner if that’s what he so desired, not have to make conversation at the end of a long, laborious day, and no-one nagged him about tidying up his mess. If he wanted to talk, he had his dogs and acres and acres of open air. He loved his work and couldn’t imagine ever doing anything else.

  But over the last two days, since returning from his brief visit to Bunyip Bay, loneliness had seeped right into the marrow of his bones. The silence around him was eerie. He felt as though he were the last person on the planet, and the satisfaction that usually came from getting up and achieving stuff on the farm was missing. When he came in from working outdoors, there were no tantalising aromas wafting from the kitchen indicating that Logan was in there doing one of the things he did best. Angus kept expecting to hear his brother’s ute tearing up the gravel or music wafting from his room while he tapped away at the keyboard, but so far Logan had stayed true to his threat to stay away.

  The desire for conversation had Angus looking for an excuse to go around and talk to Loretta and Brad, which showed how insane this was making him. If he was like this after two days, what would happen if Logan never came back? Suddenly the prospect of living the rest of his life in this manner—like a robot with little purpose, no friends and no family—didn’t appeal. Hell, another day like this and he was going to become an official mental case. He’d even trawled Facebook, of which he was a member but rarely checked, to feel some kind of human interaction. He missed Logan and wanted to apologise for his actions, but Logan refused to answer his phone. Calling Liv was his only option, but if he told her the whole sorry story, she’d be furious with him for hurting Logan and deserting his baby.

  Hell, he was furious with himself. If some guy had knocked Olivia up and walked away from her the way he’d done with Simone, he and Logan would have taken the loser to a deserted paddock and shown him exactly what they thought of cowards. Because that’s what he was—terrified. Every time he thought about Simone—and that was pretty much every second of the day and night—his chest tightened, his breathing grew ragged and he felt like he was being buried alive.

  It wasn’t that he couldn’t imagine Simone and her daughters setting up residence in his life, in his heart, in his home. Quite the opposite, in fact. Whenever he went inside, he visualised what the house would be like with a family living there. It wasn’t hard to picture himself and Simone in the kitchen, both as bad as each other at cooking, yet trying to concoct something edible. He imagined Olivia’s and Logan’s bedrooms taken over by Harriet and Grace; the house no longer quiet but filled with the sounds of boy bands and … a baby gurgling happily.

  He’d been working towards that years ago with Sarah and then one dark morning, all hopes and dreams of a house filled with happiness and children’s laughter were snatched away. Death was hard to accept at any age, but when a baby died, everything changed. He’d lost so much in his life and he didn’t think he could go through such devastating loss again.

  Although he’d come home from the sheep yards to grab an early lunch, the prospect of going inside to
that empty, cold house didn’t appeal. Everywhere he looked there were reminders of his past and fantasies of a future he wasn’t sure he was man enough to reach out for. With a heavy sigh, he flopped down onto his mum’s old swing chair that still sat on the front verandah and occasionally swung back and forth even when there was no wind. He looked out over the horizon but the usual rush he got from surveying his land didn’t come.

  Do you really want to live alone out here forever, my darling boy?

  He startled at the sound of the voice, so soft yet so clear, so real, and then turned his head to see his mother sitting beside him, her legs tucked up on the seat the way they’d always been. His heart grew still and he blinked, expecting her to disappear, but when he opened his eyes again, she was smiling at him.

  Well? Do you really want to? The look in her eyes told him exactly what she thought about all of this. Even when she was alive, she hadn’t always agreed with or approved of the things he wanted to do but she’d always offered a listening ear, wisdom and her love, whatever stupid decision he ended up making.

  ‘What do you think?’ he asked.

  She gave him a reproachful look. I think the fact you’re scared shows how much you want this woman. Baby or no baby. I think fate has given you a second chance and you’d be stupid not to take it. Look around. I want more for you than this. And don’t I deserve another grandchild?

  He half-laughed and reached out to take her hand but his fingers landed only on the firm material of the seat cushion. ‘Mum?’ He swallowed, wishing she’d reappear again, wishing he could have just a few more moments talking to her.