‘Sleeping.’
He means sleeping it off. I look around at the flock. ‘Where are they going?’
‘It’s shearing day.’
I frown. ‘Please tell me you’re not planning on shearing two thousand sheep by yourself.’
‘I’ve got two shearers arriving in half an hour.’
I look to the hill paddock past the pine trees. ‘Want me to help you get the rest?’ I can see him wrestling with his pride. ‘I don’t mind, really.’
He nods, then whistles to Tess. ‘Push up!’
I turn Charlie around and head to the other side of the flock. Between the horse, the dog, and the bike, we manage to get the first four hundred sheep into the pen closest to the shed. I push the gate closed when the final one runs through, and Hunter pulls up to latch it.
Then we head off again.
We’re still rounding up sheep when the shearers arrive, and Kevin’s nowhere to be seen. Thankfully the two men don’t ask questions. They simply get on with the job. By the time we’ve brought the last of the sheep in, there’s already a pen filled with freshly shorn sheep.
I could leave. I’ve done what I said I would do, but Hunter’s still a man down for the day, so I put Charlie in one of the pens and follow him inside. I bag the wool while Hunter tends to the other tasks.
By midday, I’m pouring with sweat and covered with some kind of oil. It’s a hundred degrees inside the shed despite the large fan in the corner. The men are all shirtless, so I strip down to my singlet. Hunter wanders over with a cup of water. He watches me drink, and I watch him right back. There’s something about him in that state, sweat-soaked and peppered with fleece, that makes my pulse quicken. I notice his gaze drop to the neck of my singlet as I hand him the cup back.
‘You good?’ he asks.
I nod. ‘Yeah.’
Kevin enters the wool shed, looking like death. He’s sweating for very different reasons. ‘Fellas,’ he says, greeting the shearers. There’s a brief exchange before he comes our way. He nods at Hunter. ‘Thanks for getting things started.’
Hunter turns away from him. ‘Didn’t have much choice.’ His eyes meet mine. ‘You go. We’ve got it from here.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yeah.’
I still hate leaving him. How can that be after everything? ‘Good luck.’
‘Thanks for helping out,’ Kevin says quietly when I pass him.
I force a smile. ‘No worries.’
Charlie’s thoroughly exhausted from his morning of pretending to be a workhorse, so I skip the ride and return him to his paddock.
In the afternoon, Tamsin picks me up in the Rav 4 she got as a graduation present, and we spend a few blissful hours swimming, sunbaking, and talking about what she’s wearing to the graduation I’m not attending. She tells me how Sammy’s new place is only a short tram ride from where she’ll be living. I lie with my eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my skin and the sound of her voice. She sounds so happy.
I wish I could sound like that.
She drops me home a little after four o’clock, and I start on dinner. I stare out the back window, in the direction of the creek, while the chops in the frypan spit fat at me. It’s been like this every day since the fight. I’m not looking for him—I’m feeling for him.
I still have an hour before Mum gets home, so I turn the hotplate off and put a cover over the meat before heading down to the creek. And there he is, sitting in the grass on the other side, bare chested and wet skin glistening. His hair is a dripping mess going in all directions. He must have gone for a swim.
I’ve stopped walking to stare at him. He doesn’t look the slightest bit surprised when he spots me. It’s almost as if he was waiting for me. Or perhaps he was feeling for me too.
Loneliness hits then. I want to sit at his side, hold his hand, kiss his rough cheek. But I want to do all those things without an internal war constantly raging inside me. Surely we’ve both earned some peace.
I ask myself every day why I stay in the religion when I’m so deeply unhappy and always doubting my beliefs. But that’s not the right question. The question isn’t why do I stay? It’s why can’t I leave? And the answer carries more shame than my lack of faith. I’m a coward. I don’t want to end up like my sister. I don’t want to be an outcast, alone. Unlovable.
Hunter frowns, like he can hear the whisper of my thoughts but can’t quite make them out. He stands up and takes a few steps in my direction. My brain goes quiet. The relief is bliss. I head for the water, for him. If Hunter’s willing to have me in this moment, then I’m willing to hate myself a little more after it.