Kirsty hurried off without waiting to see if he’d noticed how abrupt her departure had been. She needed a minute, and she was worried that that minute was going to involve her having aFox-sized meltdown, which she’d rather have in private than in full view of Family of the Year.
She shot round the corner of the chook pen and bumped smack into Will.
‘Oh, hey,’ she said.
He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Sure,’ she said.
‘You know I know you’re lying, right?’
Whatever. She pushed past him. Younger brothers of handsome farmers couldn’t help her. Nobody could. If the chook pen wasn’t safe, and the Station Cottage wasn’t empty, she’d have to go find someplace else to hide.
She threw herself in behind the ancient mango tree and hung her head down between her knees because the whole chest-breathing-crisis thing seemed to be happening again, then hauled out her phone. ‘Carol?’ she wheezed when the old lady answered. ‘We have a problem.’