First published in 2019

Copyright © Karly Lane 2019

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 One

Griffin Callahan climbed down from the tractor and

swore as he stared at the tyres submerged in the soft soil.
Great. This was all he needed. He closed his eyes for a
minute, giving in to the frustration he’d been fighting off
all morning.
After a dry spell, the rains had finally arrived, filling
the dams and the tanks and nourishing the pasture to feed
weary livestock. The only problem was, once the rain had
started, it hadn’t known when to stop.
The weather had delayed seeding and Griff was eager
to get moving. He’d walked the paddock yesterday and
thought it had dried out enough to risk it. He’d been
working steadily most of the morning but then his luck
had given out and the tractor had run into a boggy spot.

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Griff swore again and climbed back into the cabin to

radio for his dad to bring out the other tractor as a tow.
He seriously didn’t need this right now. They were already
behind schedule. He wanted to take advantage of the rain
and plant some oats as feed for the cattle, and there was
spraying to do before the next lot of wheat and canola
could go in.
He knew there was nothing he could do to control the
weather, of course—being at the mercy of the elements
came with the territory of being a farmer—but sometimes
he hated the uncertainty of this life. He tried to imagine a
job where he went to work and everything ran smoothly,
where he didn’t have to worry about whether there was rain
or no rain, he just did his job, got paid and went home.
He couldn’t picture it. It seemed too far from the realm
of his reality.
He took a photo and posted it on Instagram, adding one
or two descriptive hashtags about his predicament, then sat
back in the cabin to wait for help to arrive. If nothing else,
at least his mates would have a brief moment of enjoyment
and a few would sympathise. Misery loves company.
It was peaceful again now that the engine was off. He
rested his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.
The lonely call of a crow echoed across the wide-open
land that stretched out all around him. In the distance a
cow called for her calf and reminded him that they’d soon
be needing to drench, mark and ear-tag again. There was
always something to do. It wasn’t that he didn’t like this
work; far from it, it was what he’d always wanted to do.

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 Mr Right Now

Farming was in his blood, as it was in his dad’s and his

dad’s before him. But recently a restlessness had grown in
him—for what he wasn’t sure, but he knew he needed a
change of some sort in his life.
He’d thought that change had been the arrival of Cash
Sullivan to their sleepy little town last year. She was like
nothing the place had ever seen before—sexy, rebellious,
a mystery woman. He’d wanted Cash—wanted that taste of
something different, to be more than good old dependable
Griffin. He’d wanted to be like his older brother, Linc.
Linc was the family hero, the commando who’d spent
his adult life defending the country and fighting wars. Linc
had come home last Christmas and stolen Cash Sullivan
right from under Griff’s nose.
If he was honest about it, though, Griff had known deep
down that he and Cash were never going to be a thing.
She’d tried to tell him that, but he’d been blinded by hurt
pride and mixed up by this uncharacteristic restlessness
that had taken hold of him. So when he’d walked in and
discovered Cash in Linc’s arms on New Year’s Eve, at
his little sister’s wedding no less, the growing resentment
he’d been harbouring towards his brother had sent Griff
into a blind rage. What he hadn’t been aware of was his
brother’s own internal struggles. Griff’s anger had unleashed
a furious violence in Linc that had seen him beat Griffin
into unconsciousness.
Ending up in hospital hadn’t been the ideal way to spend
the first day of a new year—neither had watching his whole
family implode. Griff hadn’t realised the strain his brother

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had been under over the past few years, suffering post-
traumatic stress disorder after his years as a commando.
It had been a shock to realise Linc wasn’t the invincible
hero that Griff had somehow always thought him to be.
It had changed his whole perception of things. Still, it’d
probably been for the best that things had all come to a
head between them out here. He hated to think what might
have happened had Linc been pushed too far by a complete
stranger on the street somewhere. As bad as it was, things
would have been worse had his brother snapped around
someone else. He might have ended up in jail rather than
in therapy.
The approaching growl of a large engine alerted him to
his father’s arrival and Griff wearily dragged himself from
the cabin to await the inevitable lecture. It didn’t matter
that Griff was twenty-seven years old and had been pretty
much running the place for the past few years—when
it came to stuffing up, you were apparently never too
old to get a sermon from your dad on what you should
have done.
‘I told you it was too wet.’
‘It was all right yesterday,’ Griff muttered, trying to
keep his cool.
‘One day you’ll learn the art of patience. You’re always
in such a damn hurry.’
‘Yeah, well, the bills and the weather aren’t exactly
patient either, are they?’
‘One more day would have saved you a morning of
stuffin’ around though, wouldn’t it?’

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 Mr Right Now

Griffin took after his old man, which was why they
argued so much, but that was where the similarities ended.
Linc was the one who took after their dad in looks. Griff
was more like their mother’s side of the family, taller than
both his father and brother and, in his opinion, far better
looking, although Linc would no doubt disagree.
The two brothers had always been like chalk and
cheese in everything, even down to the type of women
they preferred. In his day Linc had worn the stereotypical
military man-whore medal, happy to play the field and
play hard. His line of work had made it impossible to
maintain any kind of long-term relationship. Griff, on the
other hand, had only had two serious girlfriends. He’d been
shy and tongue-tied around girls as a kid, and that hadn’t
changed much as a grown man. He wasn’t after anything
complicated; he just wanted a marriage like his parents’,
built on love, trust and a good, solid partnership.
He’d thought he’d found that with his previous relation-
ships, the first starting way back in high school with Olivia
Dawson—his neighbour and best friend’s twin sister. They’d
grown up next door and everyone had thought they’d end
up together, but when Griff had gone away to agricultural
college Liv had broken up with him. He’d been heartbroken
and utterly confused. Later, he’d met Tiffany and for three
years they’d been inseparable, but then she’d got a job offer
too good to pass up—overseas. Maybe if he’d been willing
to leave Stringybark Creek, he’d have been able to save the
relationship, but Stringybark was in his blood—farming
here was the only thing he’d ever seen himself doing.

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He hadn’t been celibate since then. He was a healthy

red-blooded male after all. He’d been seeing Ashley from
the pub on and off, but it was just a casual thing. She was
nice enough, but she wasn’t into exclusivity and he really
wasn’t into sharing, so it was never going to go anywhere.
Nope, it seemed like he was destined to become a crabby
old bachelor farmer who lived on the same property as his
parents for the rest of his life. Fantastic. If he hadn’t felt
like shit before, he certainly did now, thanks to that rosy
image of his future.
He finished attaching the strap to the rear of the tractor
and waited for his dad to start pulling. For a minute Griff
thought the machine might be in too deep and they’d have
to call in an excavator to dig the bloody thing out, but after
a few more tries, the wheels gained traction and the tractor
was finally pulled from its muddy resting place.
At least one thing’s gone right today then, he thought,
climbing back into the cabin and heading home to the shed.
Looked like he’d be spending another day on maintenance
instead of out in the field where he needed to be.
Great start to the day.

S
Back in the shed later, Griff climbed down out of the tractor
and rotated his shoulder. It still got stiff sometimes. He
knew he should have continued with the physio longer
after the accident, but he’d had work to do and couldn’t
justify the extra trips into Griffith each week. The accident.
Yeah. That was how the family referred to it, on the rare

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 Mr Right Now

occasions that it was mentioned. Usually it wasn’t talked

about. It was the dark shadow that hung over them all.
If no one spoke about it, then it was almost as though it
hadn’t happened.
Griffin knew it was hard for his parents to deal with.
Hell, it was hard for him to wrap his head around most of
the time too. Being beaten senseless by your own brother
was pretty incomprehensible, but he knew for his parents
the conflict and hurt went deeper. They were torn between
outrage over their youngest son’s injuries and knowing
their eldest son had been in desperate need of help. He
didn’t envy them. It was hard enough dealing with his own
feelings about the whole thing, without being stuck in the
middle of two kids. As far as years went, this one, so far,
had been pretty bloody awful. The blows had kept coming
for his parents with his older sister’s marriage falling apart
hot on the heels of the wedding reception from hell.
He picked up the toolbox and carried it over to the ute
he’d been working on yesterday. He hadn’t been surprised at
the break-up of his sister’s marriage. He’d known Harmony
and Don had been in trouble. He’d heard rumours about
Don—that he’d been spotted in different places with a
younger woman, and wasn’t even particularly secretive
about it. But when Griff had tried to talk to Harmony
about it before Christmas, she’d none too politely told him
to mind his own business.
This was why he hated being stuck inside. When he was
frustrated, he always seemed to dwell on the negative. It
didn’t make sense—his whole existence revolved around

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working alone and having too much time to think, but when
he was outside doing what he loved, his thoughts always
seemed calmer. Lately though, the thing he’d always taken
for granted—his family’s unshakable foundation—had taken
a substantial knock and it wasn’t something that could be
easily ignored. It was more than just the fallout from the
fight. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly, but
things were definitely changing for the Callahans.
‘There you are,’ his mother said, coming up beside him
unexpectedly. Lavinia Callahan was the most capable
person Griff knew and he hated the dark shadows beneath
her eyes that had appeared after New Year’s Eve. They had
faded over time, but there was still a lingering sadness in
them that he caught every now and then when she thought
no one was watching.
‘Now that you’re not out in the tractor, come on up for
morning tea.’
‘Nah. Thanks anyway, Mum, but I want to get this
finished today,’ he said, nodding at the raised bonnet of
the ute.
‘Look, if it’s because of your father—’ she started.
Griff quickly shook his head. ‘It’s fine, Mum.’
‘You know he doesn’t mean anything by it.’
‘Just once I’d like to not get a lecture about everything.
Is it that hard for him to be civil?’
‘It’s just his way.’
‘And he’s never made a mistake or gone into a field too
early or, heaven forbid, got anything bogged before?’ Griff
said sarcastically.

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‘Of course he has,’ Lavinia sighed.

‘The difference is, I don’t make a big song and dance
about it.’
‘I wish you two could get along for just one day,’ Lavinia
said tightly, rubbing her temples with her fingertips, and
Griff lost a little of his simmering annoyance.
‘I’m just busy today, that’s all, Mum.’
‘You’re busy every day. You don’t come up to the
house for dinner any more. I don’t see you unless I come
looking for you. I miss you.’
‘Mum, I live literally five hundred metres away.’
‘And you’d think that would mean I’d see you a lot more
often than I do. I’m worried about you, son. You’ve become
distant and I don’t like it. You and your father need to get
whatever this thing is between you out in the open and
deal with it before it tears this family even further apart.’
Griff heard the slight tremor in his mother’s voice and
shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t want to hurt his mum.
She was the heart and soul of this family. He hadn’t meant
to make her feel slighted, but she was right, he had been
keeping his distance. He was sick and tired of his father
always criticising him. It didn’t matter what he did, he never
did it the way his dad would have done it or had done it
in the past. It had always been the same between them,
so it wasn’t as though it was anything new, but Griff had
reached a point where he couldn’t stand it any more.
He envied the relationship his father and older brother
had. He’d sat on the sidelines for years listening to his
dad boasting to his neighbours, and anyone else foolish

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enough to ask, about his son who served in the army. He’d
watched them laughing and sharing stories on the verandah
on Linc’s occasional visits home, and he’d always been the
silent onlooker. He kind of even got it—his brother was
awesome. He was humble, smart and good-looking, and
he lived a life of adventure and bravery that most people
couldn’t even imagine. It wasn’t his brother’s fault that
Linc got on with their father better than he did. He knew
that. But it still hurt. Even now, after everything that had
happened, his father still held his eldest son up on that
damn pedestal. Just once it would be nice to have his old
man congratulate him on something for a change. Was that
really too much to ask?
‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ he said, feeling weary. ‘I’ll come up
for dinner tonight, okay?’
Lavinia gave a brief nod and straightened her shoulders.
‘That would be more than okay. Thank you, darling.’ She
moved to turn away, but then paused. ‘He cares about you,
Griff. He loves both his boys. But you and he are so damn
alike. You’re both stubborn and neither of you knows how
to communicate properly. If you’d just learn to listen to
each other once in a while.’
‘I listen. I don’t have any bloody choice.’
‘But you don’t hear him. He still wants to be listened
to and have his experience appreciated. When you dismiss
what he’s saying because you want to do things the new
way, you make him feel as though all his years working and
learning about this land are meaningless and irrelevant.’
She raised her hand when he opened his mouth to protest.

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‘And, yes, I know he needs to listen to you. Maybe if you

tried sharing your ideas instead of presenting him with a
fait accompli, it’d open the lines of communication a little.’
‘He’d only decide it was a waste of time and tell me to
do it his way.’
‘I think you’d be surprised. You don’t ask his opinion
about anything. For everything you two have in common,
I’ve never heard either of you just sit and have a conversation
about something you both enjoy. It’s sad.’
Griff frowned. That wasn’t true. But then the more he
thought about it, the more he realised maybe it was. When
was the last time they had sat and talked about anything?
They didn’t—talk, that is. His father gave his opinion about
whatever was on the radio or in the paper, and Griff usually
shut up and let him rant.
‘Just think about it and maybe give it a try. I’ll see you
tonight, darling.’ Lavinia smiled as she touched his hand
and walked away, leaving Griff with something new to
think about for a change.

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 Two

Olivia Dawson stared out the window of her office

overlooking Sydney Harbour and knew she should be
appreciating the way the water was extra blue and spark-
ling today, but she was too busy processing the review
meeting she’d just had with her boss. She felt ill. She’d
received a reprimand and a warning that if she didn’t lift
her game she’d be replaced on one of the biggest accounts
the firm managed.
Olivia had spent her entire life behaving in exactly
the right way. Her worst fear in school had been having the
teacher call out her name in class for doing something
wrong. Not that it had ever happened, but she’d lived in
fear that one day it might. She’d always handed in her
homework and assignments on time; she’d never skipped

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school and she’d never lied to her parents—except for the

times she’d covered for her twin brother, Ollie. Like when
he and Griffin Callahan had decided to skip school and
hitch a ride into Griffith when their cricket hero came to
town to promote his new book. That neither of them even
liked to read hadn’t deterred them. But fibbing because
your twin begged you to didn’t really count as lying to your
parents, given you weren’t the one who had actually done
anything wrong.
Olivia sighed as she realised that even after all these
years she was still a goody-two-shoes. This was why her
boss had seemed so bewildered. He couldn’t quite wrap his
head around her sudden personality change.
Some rebel, she thought miserably. At the first sign of
trouble you’re sitting here like a quivering mess.
‘I don’t understand what happened in there today,
Olivia,’ Mr Rothers had said, sounding utterly perplexed.
She couldn’t blame him really, it wasn’t like her . . . the
old her, that was.
She’d been wrestling with frustration for a while now,
but it had taken her last trip home at Christmas to realise
she needed to make a change. She was tired of being Olivia,
‘the good girl’. Where had it got her? She ignored the little
voice that was quite happily listing the things it had got
her: a decent job, a great apartment, a new car, savings in
her bank account. Other than that, she thought irritably.
Where was the excitement? She’d excelled in a very
complex field, and yet when she tried to explain to someone
what it was she actually did, she could almost see their

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eyes glaze over, and she couldn’t really blame them. Most
people usually switched off once she told them she was a
corporate lawyer. She usually got a nod and a vague smile,
followed by, ‘That sounds interesting.’ But it really didn’t.
Not to anyone who wasn’t in her field.
She specialised in structuring mergers, acquisitions
and finance operations. She was hired to assess, plan and
implement value-adding processes to improve the financial
function and operational processes of a firm.
Since Christmas her life had been in turmoil. She wasn’t
sure who she was any more. Who did she want to be? Her
old self had seemed destined to climb the corporate ladder
right to the top. Her employers wanted her to head that
way, but it was no longer making her happy. She wanted
to be more like her best friend, Hadley Callahan—war
correspondent, globetrotter and general all-round amazing
person. Hadley had always been Olivia’s hero—the bravest
person Olivia knew. Even back in kindergarten nothing
had scared Hadley. She’d stand up to the bigger kids in
the playground when they tried to bully them; she’d throw
away a chance at winning a ribbon on athletic days, not
even flinching when the PE teacher yelled at her, just so
she could keep Olivia company at the rear of the running
pack. She was smart, pretty and had a heart of gold—there
was nothing Hadley couldn’t do. Unlike Olivia. The only
thing Olivia was good at was getting excellent grades and
doing what she was told.
Until now. Telling their biggest client that he was being
an unreasonable jerk hadn’t been the smartest move. But he

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really had been a jerk—for weeks now they’d been bending

over backwards to accommodate his demands. The old
Olivia would have meekly bitten her tongue and stayed
silent. In hindsight, that would have been sensible, but
would Hadley have sat there and let the man not only
dictate what was going to happen, but do it with a smug
smirk because he knew he was the company’s biggest client?
No, she would not have.
So Olivia had decided to embrace her inner Hadley and
stand up to the bully. She had imagined the rest of the
boardroom would applaud her, give a standing ovation
at her courage . . . Sadly, the reality hadn’t been nearly
so epic: an uncomfortable silence, followed by a lot of
awkward paper shuffling, and then Mr Rothers had excused
himself and Olivia so they could speak privately. It had
been humiliating, to say the least.
This would not have happened to Hadley.
Hadley’s world was perfect: she’d just married her long-
time celebrity reporter boyfriend in a lavish New Year’s
Eve wedding. Magazines and TV news had covered the
event, celebrating the two darlings of the newsroom on
their special day. Olivia was happy for her friend, she really
was, but the wedding had brought home just how lonely
Olivia really was.
It hadn’t helped that as a bridesmaid she’d been paired
with Hadley’s brother, Griffin Callahan. Olivia let out a
small sigh and closed her eyes.
Griffin was a year older than Hadley and Olivia, and he
and Olivia’s twin brother, Oliver, were best friends. They’d

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grown up next door, and for years she’d only ever been his
best friend’s sister. He’d barely given her the time of day.
It wasn’t until high school that Griff had finally begun to
notice her. He’d kissed her at a school disco, when she was
in Year Nine, and that had been the beginning of a teenage
love affair she’d thought would last forever.
It was funny how sometimes just thinking about a time in
your life could almost transport you there. When she thought
of Griffin back then, she could feel the warm sun on her
shoulders and smell the faint scent of chlorine and coconut
oil sunscreen. She remembered the feel of beaded water and
warm lips on smooth skin. He’d been her first true love.
Of course, teenage love was very different to any
other kind of love, she reminded herself. Everything was
heightened with raging hormones and the first taste of
grown-up emotions. It was new and exciting and completely
unrealistic. Maybe that’s why you always remembered your
first love with such reverence. It was untarnished by adult
responsibilities and expectations.
She opened her eyes and shook her head. It was pointless,
she thought irritably, dwelling on the past like this. Not to
mention irrelevant, as she remembered the last time she’d
seen Griffin. It was after she’d gone and made a complete
fool of herself at Hadley’s wedding reception. Olivia
groaned aloud at the memory, quickly stopping it before
the drunken scene could replay itself on a never-ending loop
as it liked to do whenever she felt particularly depressed.
What had happened to the professional, intelligent woman
she’d worked so hard and diligently to become?

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Olivia reached for a file on her desk. Her phone rang

and Olivia frowned as she picked it up and saw the name
on the screen. Ollie. She swiped the green answer button.
‘Liv,’ Ollie said urgently, ‘Dad’s had an accident.’

S
Olivia sat on the hard plastic chair in the hospital waiting
area. Ollie’s call had been brief and to the point. Their
father had rolled the tractor earlier that day and he was
being flown to Sydney. He hadn’t had many details, only
that Dad was in a bad way and he and their mother were
driving down.
As Olivia sat waiting to hear news of her father’s condi-
tion, cleaners pushed trolleys past her and busy nurses
speed-walked their way to the next important item on their
list of duties. Each time a nurse appeared she tensed, but
none of them stopped and time passed like slow, unrelenting
torture. She kept her mother and brother updated via texts,
and she knew they would be experiencing the same hell of
uncertainty as they drove towards the city.
Just when she thought her patience had stretched to
breaking point, a young neatly dressed man in a long-
sleeved shirt and tailored trousers called her name. Nausea
bubbled inside her stomach. Bracing herself, she got to her
feet and tried to take a calming breath as he approached her.
‘My name’s Doctor Handoo. We’ve just finished
examining your father. They managed to stabilise him
on site before flying him here. He is incredibly lucky to
be alive.’

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Olivia listened as the doctor began rattling off a stag-

gering list of the injuries they’d identified so far. Among
them were fractures of the spine, as well as leg, arm and
pelvis. He had broken ribs, a fractured sternum and a
multitude of abrasions.
‘What happens now?’ Olivia asked, running a hand
through her dishevelled hair.
‘We’ll need to perform surgery on the thoracic spine
to stabilise the fractures, and he’ll have further surgery to
pin and plate the fractures to his femur, arm and pelvis.
You can come and sit with him until then if you like.’ He
turned abruptly without waiting to see if she followed and
she had to walk quickly to keep up.
‘Do you have any idea how long he’ll be in hospital?’ she
asked, almost running into the doctor’s back as he stopped
in front of a door and swiped a card to gain access.
‘That will depend on how well the surgery goes, but
the pelvic fracture alone will have him off his feet for six
weeks.’ He opened a curtain at the far end of the room and
Olivia stood and stared, too shocked to do more. The man
sleeping in the bed barely resembled her father. His face
was bruised and swollen. She would have walked straight
past had she not known it was him.
Doctor Handoo muttered something about getting the
nurse and disappeared. Olivia sank into the chair beside
the bed, her legs feeling as though they could no longer
keep her upright. Her father had lost his usual ruddy
complexion and he seemed to have shrunk into himself

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somehow. It was a terrible shock to see him looking so

small and vulnerable.
There was a cannula in his arm, attached to a saline
drip. On his other arm was a blood pressure cuff. A nurse
whisked open the curtain and took his blood pressure
and oxygen saturations before leaving with the promise of
coming right back to get some more details from Olivia.
From beneath the sheet covering his chest she could see
where leads had been attached to monitor his heart rate.
An oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth. When the
nurse returned he explained her father needed as much
oxygen as possible because of the fractures to his ribs and
upper back. His lungs were just not able to get the oxygen
into his blood that he needed at present.
Olivia gingerly reached out and touched his hand, the
tough skin beneath hers reassuringly familiar. Work hands.
A movement caught her eye and she lifted her gaze to her
father’s face to see his eyelids flutter open.
‘Dad.’ Her voice caught unexpectedly and she felt a rush
of hot tears down her cheeks.
His voice was faint and muffled and she had to lean in
to hear him through the oxygen mask.
‘Don’t try to talk. You’re okay. You’re in hospital.’
‘Your mother?’
‘Mum and Ollie are on their way. They’ll be here soon.
I’m going to stay right here with you. Do you need anything?
Do you want me to call the nurse?’ His face was contorting
as he tried to move and Olivia was worried he’d do more
damage to himself.

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 k a r ly l a n e

‘No. They’ve got me pumped full of painkillers as it is,’

he rasped between painful breaths.
‘Well, no wonder,’ Olivia said, shaking her head at him. ‘If
you’re in pain you need to tell them.’ She knew he wouldn’t.
He’d grit his teeth and bear agony before he’d ask for pain
relief. She’d never even seen him take a headache tablet.
‘I thought I was a goner, Liv,’ he said after a few moments.
She swallowed painfully, unable to trust her voice to
speak, but she clasped his big hand in hers.
‘I can still hear it,’ he whispered. ‘When the tractor
rolled . . . and then it pinned me.’
Olivia squeezed his hand tightly. She’d only heard the bare
details about the accident, but she could imagine the horrific
sight it would have made. ‘Everything’s okay now, Dad.
You’re safe now.’
‘You know what I was thinking while I was lying there?’
he said, ignoring her attempt to reassure him. ‘That I’d left
the pump on at the trough.’
Olivia eyed him warily.
‘For all I knew I was about to kick the bucket and the
last thing I was thinking of was whether or not I’d turned
off the bloody water,’ he said, closing his eyes again.
Olivia gave a small chuckle that ended on a sob. ‘Oh,
Dad,’ she said, dropping her head. He really could have died
today. It still hadn’t fully sunk in, but it was starting to. ‘That
just means you weren’t ready to kick the bucket just yet.’
‘In case I still do,’ he said, his voice beginning to fade,
‘you kids and your mother . . .’—he was fighting so hard
to stay awake—‘you’re what matters.’

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 Mr Right Now

‘We know, Dad. It’s all going to be fine. Get some sleep.
I’m staying right here.’
She wasn’t sure if it was the painkillers or pure exhaustion,
or quite possibly a combination of the two, but something
finally conspired to bring down the mighty Bill Dawson.
A fierce protectiveness washed over her as she sat beside
her father and watched his chest rise and fall in sleep. She
would not let anything happen to him now. He was safe
and everything was going to be fine.

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