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Lena didn’t know what the heck was happening. She’d come to Australia, to Bindarra Creek, to see Zach. To surprise him. To declare herself and her love and start making a future with him. Not even eighteen hours later, she was staring at empty, abandoned barns, daydreaming of the horses she could fill them with, next to some other man she didn’t even know. Copper nosed her hand, checking in, then raced down the hill towards the farm buildings.
She should’ve felt sad about Zach’s betrayal, his cheating, but she felt weirdly numb. And when she wasn’t feeling numb about Zach, she was feeling… some type of way about Heath. Carissa was going to have a field day with her.
Carissa.
“Oh crap, I totally forgot.” Heath’s attention snapped to her as she pulled out her phone, the height of rudeness, but it couldn’t be helped. “I texted my bestie last night when…” She stopped herself from saying Zach’s name in the nick of time, which was stupid because there was no reason she should try to protect Heath from hearing about her now-ex-boyfriend. There were more important matters at hand than whatever nonsense was happening to her emotions. “She’s going to be worried sick.”
Sure enough, there were about twenty-five messages from Carissa in her messaging app. The first one was weirdly prescient, but of course, from the get-go Carissa had been uber-sus of the whole idea to surprise Zach.
Sweetie, whatever’s happened with Zach-the-$&#@*%!, I just want you to know that I’m so sorry and you deserve a million times better. A bajillion, even. I hate that you’re on the other side of the world right now.
Also: I expect a full update, as ASAP as possible.
As the hours had ticked past, the messages had turned into some variation of:
Status report required.
Helllloooooo?
ARE YOU ALIVE???
IF YOU DON’T MESSAGE ME BACK RIGHT NOW I AM GOING TO BE FORCED TO KILL YOU MYSELF.
murder. actual murder. That is what I will commit.
OMG you have your notifications turned off, don’t you. Lena, WE HAVE TALKED ABOUT THIS.
ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?? Eight hours. I have been waiting EIGHT HOURS.
i hate this time difference
She checked on Heath. He was looking studiously the other direction, giving her privacy. Copper was exploring down near the house, wearing himself out by travelling twice as much ground as she was. She typed furiously.
Status: Alive.
Also: hi.
To sum up: Zach found someone else and forgot to tell me. Also apparently lied and doesn’t live at his supposed address—military hottie but also massive Crab-Cake Heath Fletcher does. ALSO discovered last night there are no available hotel rooms anywhere in this town, bc holidays? Under duress, Heath offered me his (empty) bed for the night. Duress being me parking in his driveway for an hour frantically looking for a place to stay. Possibly crying. (B4u ask: He was gentleman and fed me and took couch)
Now on hike with Heath and Coppy. Not dead but v confused. Critically important question: To Fling or Not To Fling? He seems nice. Ish. (See crab comment above).
Either way: WHAT DO I DO NOW?? With my life, that is. But also: do I find new place to stay? Do I scrap Australia plan and come home? HALP.
She hit send. Immediately the three dots that indicated Carissa was typing something appeared. Then disappeared. Then reappeared. Then were gone again. Which probably meant her BFF was typing up some kind of faux-outrage-y screed.
“You done typing your letter?” Heath wasn’t grinding his teeth, but he might as well have been.
She would not be fazed though. “Yep! Figured I’d better send the whole update or I’d just be getting pelted with a million questions.”
“If we don’t get moving, we’ll get roasted on the way back.” Heath shifted, like an impatient horse that had been reined in. Maybe the man didn’t know how to relax. He said he liked to keep his hands busy… which got her thinking all kinds of things she had no business thinking, especially not even twenty-four hours post-breakup.
The last thing she wanted was to test Heath’s patience, by waiting for whatever Carissa was going to say. Instead she shoved her phone back in her pocket. She’d check her messages again when they got back and she had to get serious about figuring out what she was going to do for the night and the rest of her life. “Sorry about that.”
If Heath heard her apology, she couldn’t tell—he was suddenly charging ahead, down the knoll towards the house where she’d last seen Copper sniffing. Except Copper wasn’t there.
“Is your dog a strong swimmer?” Heath’s voice wasn’t a shout, but it carried the intensity of one.
“Yeah, he loves swimming.” She took off after Heath, lengthening her strides to catch up with him, except he sped up before she could. “Why?” She didn’t understand what was happening, why Heath was running.
