“Don’t. She’s not going anywhere. And if I know anything about you, you aren’t either. You guys will be perfect together.”
I smile at her, grateful that she’s part of the bizarre little group we’ve somehow created over the years. Ella’s always been important to Colt, despite neither of them acting on what is so obvious to everyone around them.
“Are you gonna’ run off into the sunset with Colson, or what?” I ask through a stifled laugh. Ella frowns, which only makes me laugh harder.
“Your bloody brother wouldn’t take ahintif it jumped up and bit him in the ass.”
“Daddy, we’re ready,” Billie’s voice rings through the hall as she enters the kitchen.
She’s holding Annabeth’s hand, the pair of them are, in fact, wearing matching pink shirts. My heart skips a beat as I’m mesmerised by what can only be described as the mostbeautiful sight that could everbe seen.
“Princess, Firefly, where are we off to?” I ask them.
Billie’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. She giggles and says, “Hey, Uncle Colt and Daddy call me Bumble, and you’re Firefly! We both have glowy bums!”
Annabeth laughs, shaking her head as she says, “Billie, sweetheart, bees havestingybums.” Billie frowns, clearly unimpressed.
“Don’t stay out too late,” Ella coos, flicking her wrist in a wave before heading to the living room.
I extend my hand to my girls, taking Bumble’s in mine, her arm curled around Annabeth’s as she tucks in behind her and I lead the girls back out to the ute. I don’t know where I’m taking them, but I know it’s going to be perfect. Plus, we have cake.
Twenty-Two
Annabeth
Dallas’s car chugs down the unfamiliar gravel road. A country song faintly fills the cab as Billie hums along from the backseat. Dallas’s hand rests lazily on my leg, the other firmly gripping the leather steering wheel. His hazel eyes are glued to the winding road before us, never daring to glance anywhere but towards the horizon.
His fingers trace gentle circles across my slacks, the silky fabric feels soothing as it rolls across my skin beneath his touch. My body reacts instinctively to him, the fluttering swirls erupting through my stomach with every stroke.
“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” I tell him.
It’s Billie who responds, almost instantly. “You’re gonna love it, Ms Harrington.”
“That tells me nothing, Billie,” I protest, looking back at her.
She’s swinging her legs happily, smiling away as she continues singing her song. Stubborn.Just like her dad. I wonder if her boldness stems from her mother. Dallas is really more of a stoic kind of stubborn. Billie on the other hand is the kind of stubborn you’d expect to win debates and fight for justice. She sticks to her guns, stands up for what she believes in, and isn’t backing down for anybody. From what Dallas has told me, Samantha was much the same.
It might be weird, but I have often thought about Dallas’s life before we met. The man I know has become who he is from years of hiding who he was and building up walls to keep his family safe after everything they went through. I can’t imagine losing someone I love, not like that. Sure, I’velostpeople, but nobody that mattered – exceptthem.
After the accident, I tried to keep Dad going, tried to remind him that we could get through this, but it only took three years for him to spiral out of control. By the time I was fifteen, I was carrying our family on my shoulders, desperately trying to piece together the broken pieces of my father while I finished high school. Dad passed before I graduated, he never saw me finish high school. I was barely eighteen, barely an adult, and completely alone. No child should have to endure that. It’s why I started teaching. I thought if Icould make a difference to even one student on a tough day, maybe I could try to right some of the wrongs of my past. If I could bring joy tooneperson through music, I could do it again, and again, and again.
“Where did you run off to, Firefly?” Dallas asks, breaking me from my painful thoughts.
“Just having a nostalgic moment. I’m here.”
“You ready for some cake?”
Billie squeals from the backseat. “Yes, I’mstarving.”
The three of us climb from the car, Billie humming a tune to herself as she dances her way around us and into the paddock. I scan my surroundings, trying to familiarise myself with where we are. My eyes wander to a small, tin shack a few metres away. The roof is rusted, dented from years of weathering. The door is hanging on by its last hinges, weeds cascade across the misshapen tin walls, and there’s ahuge wattle tree behind it. It’s the end of Spring, so the trees usual array of golden foliage is slowly fading, but what remains is still a sight to behold.
I turn back to face Dallas, who’s smiling with Billie as they set up a picnic rug on a small mound of dirt. Billie’s flitting around, still humming away. Dallas’s eyes find mine; the deep, hazel pools twinkling as he watches me. He extends a hand in my direction, beckoning me to join them. Billie squeals excitedly, running to pull me over to the rug. Her lanky arms wrap around me, her blonde curls tickling my nose as I pull her in for a cuddle.
“I brought my guitar, do you wanna sing with me?” she asks. Her blue eyes gleam up at me as she smiles. A smile of my own tugs at my heart as I tell her, “Billie-Mae Northlane. I wouldloveto.”
As if on cue, Dallas emerges from behind the ute, guitar in hand. The three of us cosy up on the picnic blanket they laid out, before Billie stuffs a slice of cake into her mouth that’s half the size of her head. Dallas just shakes his head and laughs. I tune the strings of the guitar, listening to Billie tell us more camp stories through mouthfuls of cake.
“Alright, what song are we singing?”
