The kitchen at Ironstone had gone quiet after Elara left.
Saige remained at the table with her coffee untouched, staring at the place where her mother had stood. The screen door had not latched properly and tapped against the frame whenever the breeze caught it.
She did not go looking for Vael until late afternoon.
He was in the barn, forking hay into Hazel’s stall. He worked with the same steady economy he brought to everything. No wasted movement. No hurry. The mare lipped at his shoulder as he passed, and he touched her neck without looking.
“Did you know?” Saige asked.
Vael set the fork against the wall and turned to her.
“Know what?”
“Elara. Bryce.” The names came out harder than she intended. “She slept with him. The night I ended the engagement.”
Vael watched her.
“I did not know.”
“Does that bother you?”
“It should?”
“She was with you.”
“Before you returned.”
“I know that.”
“Elara ended what existed between us because she believed it should belong to you.”
“And now she’s with Bryce.”
“You ended your engagement to Bryce.”
Saige stared at him.
“That isn’t the same thing.”
Vael tilted his head slightly.
“Why?”
“Because it isn’t.”
“That does not explain it.”
Saige folded her arms.
“She knew what had just happened. She knew I had only just left him. Then she went to his cabin and slept with him.”
“Did Bryce want her there?”
“That isn’t the point.”
“Did your mother?”
Saige looked away.
“Yes.”
“Then I do not understand what was taken.”
Her eyes snapped back to him.
“She took what I ended. Like it was hers to pick up.”
“You ended it.”
“I know.”
“Then Bryce was no longer promised to you.”
“That doesn’t mean my mother should have gone straight to his bed.”
Vael remained quiet.
Saige could see him trying to understand the rule she was insisting existed.
“I thought you’d be angry,” she said.
“Because Elara was with me?”
“Yes.”
“She chose to end that.”
“And that means you feel nothing?”
“I did not say that.”
“What do you feel?”
Vael looked towards Hazel’s stall before answering.
“I care for Elara. I care for Bryce. I know Bryce is hurt, and I know your mother carries hurt of her own.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
“You want me to feel that Elara belonged to me and should remain unavailable to Bryce.”
Saige’s jaw tightened.
“When you say it like that, I sound ridiculous.”
“I am not trying to make you sound anything.”
“You don’t have to.”
Hazel shifted in the stall behind him.
Saige pressed her hands against her hips.
“I know I left Bryce. I know he didn’t owe me anything after that. I just wasn’t ready to see him choose someone else.”
“Your mother.”
“Especially her.”
“Why?”
“Because she knew us. She knew what we had.”
“She also knew what you chose instead.”
Saige flinched.
Vael did not soften the words, but neither did he push them further.
“You’re defending her.”
“I am trying to understand you.”
“You always say that.”
“Because I am.”
Saige looked at him. He meant it. There was no challenge in his voice. No attempt to win.
“She was supposed to be on my side,” she said.
“Can she not be on your side and still choose Bryce?”
“Not this quickly.”
“How long should she have waited?”
“I don’t know.”
“Would any length of time have made it easy?”
Saige did not answer.
Vael stepped closer, though he stopped before touching her.
“You are hurt because Bryce did not remain where you left him.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“Is it untrue?”
Saige opened her mouth, then closed it.
“I thought he’d move on eventually,” she said. “I didn’t think it would be with her.”
“And you wanted me to be angry so you would not be alone in feeling betrayed.”
Her eyes burned.
“Yes.”
Vael’s expression remained calm.
“I am not angry with her.”
“I know.”
“I am sorry that hurts you.”
“That isn’t the same.”
“No.”
She looked past him towards the open barn doors.
“You don’t feel things the way I do.”
“I feel them differently.”
Saige waited, but he offered nothing more.
She turned and walked out of the barn.
Three days passed.
Elara and Saige moved around each other carefully, sharing rooms only when necessary. Saige did not mention Bryce again. Elara did not ask what she had said to Vael.
On the fourth day, Elara drove to Bryce’s cabin.
She did not invent a reason for going.
Bryce was on the verandah, planing a length of timber across two trestles. He looked up when her ute pulled in, but did not set the plane down until she climbed out.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning.”
He wiped the blade clean with his thumb and placed it beside the timber.
“You want a coffee?”
“Yeah.”
Inside, Bryce filled the kettle and set two mugs on the bench. He moved with a care that had not been there before, leaving space between them where once neither would have thought about it.
Elara leaned against the bench.
“Saige knows.”
Bryce stopped with the spoon in his hand.
“That you were here?”
“That I stayed.”
His jaw tightened.
“How did she take it?”
“Badly.”
He finished making the coffees and handed one to her.
“Did she ask you not to see me?”
“She asked if I’d stop if she wanted me to.”
“What did you say?”
“No.”
Bryce looked at her over the rim of his mug.
“You sure about that?”
“No.”
The answer drew the smallest movement from his mouth.
“At least you’re honest.”
“I’m sure I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen.”
He lowered his mug.
“And I don’t want to walk away because it would make things easier for everyone else.”
Bryce crossed the space between them.
His hand settled lightly at her waist.
Elara leaned into it.
He kissed her without urgency. The contact felt less like a continuation of the night and more like something chosen in daylight.
When he drew back, his thumb brushed once along her jaw.
“You staying for lunch?” he asked.
Elara glanced towards the mug in her hand.
“Depends what you’re making.”
“Hadn’t planned that far ahead.”
“Then you’d better think of something.”
Bryce’s hand remained at her waist.
“I can do that.”
She stayed.
The following week, Vael returned to Black Cattle Co.
Bryce was in the yards when Vael arrived, moving weaners through the race. He looked towards the gate but gave no sign of welcome or refusal.
Vael waited until the last animal cleared.
“Elara said you needed help with a gate.”
Bryce wiped his forearm across his forehead.
“Bottom paddock.”
“I can hang it.”
Bryce studied him.
Then he nodded towards the shed.
“Grab the auger.”
They worked through the morning without saying more than the job required.
Bryce marked the post positions. Vael dug the holes. They set the posts, checked the level and hung the gate. When the latch caught cleanly on the first attempt, Bryce opened and closed it twice.
“Good,” he said.
Vael stood beside him, waiting.
Bryce handed him a bottle of water.
They drank in the shade of the shed.
“I did not understand what Saige had promised you,” Vael said.
Bryce stared out across the yards.
“I know.”
“If I had understood—”
“Would you have stayed away from her?”
Vael considered it.
“I would have acted differently.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
Bryce turned the bottle slowly between his hands.
“At least you’re honest.”
“I did not believe I was competing with you.”
“You were.”
“I understand that now.”
Bryce looked at him.
“Do you?”
“I understood Saige wanted me. I did not understand that accepting what she offered meant taking part in a deception against you.”
Bryce’s grip tightened around the bottle.
“She knew.”
“Yes.”
“She knew what I thought we were building.”
“Yes.”
“And she let me keep building it.”
Vael did not defend her.
That seemed to matter more than anything he could have said.
Bryce looked towards the gate they had hung.
“I can separate what you didn’t understand from what she did.”
Vael waited.
“That doesn’t mean I trust you.”
“No.”
“Or forgive you.”
“I know.”
Bryce crushed the empty bottle in one hand.
“Tomorrow morning. Western fence.”
“I will be here.”
Bryce walked back towards the yards.
Vael followed.
Another week passed.
Vael appeared at Black Cattle Co. most mornings. Bryce stopped asking why he was there. He simply gave him work.
They repaired fences, replaced a cracked trough and cleared fallen timber from a track. At first, every conversation remained practical. Over time, Bryce spoke before he had to. Vael answered without trying to turn the exchange into more than it was.
Their bodies found the old rhythm before the rest of them did.
Bryce passed Vael tools without looking. Vael anticipated what he needed. They worked beside each other without forcing conversation into every silence.
One afternoon, they finished replacing a section of damaged fencing. Bryce tested the tension, stepped back and gave the wire a final pull.
Vael handed him the cutters before he asked.
Bryce took them.
When the excess wire fell, he looked along the repaired line.
“That’ll hold.”
“Yes.”
Bryce gathered the remaining tools.
“Coffee?”
Vael looked towards the cabin.
“Yes.”
They walked back together.
Elara saw Bryce twice more that week.
The first time, she stayed for dinner.
The second, she stayed the night.
Neither of them announced that the careful beginning had become a pattern. It happened through small choices. Bryce leaving space for her clothes. Elara bringing food without asking whether he needed it. Her mug appearing beside his in the morning.
The next time she visited, Bryce was at the table sorting invoices into uneven piles.
Elara stood in the doorway and watched him.
He looked up.
“What?”
She glanced at the table.
“Did you fuck her there?”
Bryce went still.
“Who?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
His eyes moved from her to the table.
“Once.”
Elara walked closer and ran her fingertips along the timber.
“Here?”
“Yes.”
She looked towards the bench.
“What about there?”
Bryce leaned back in the chair.
“You planning to inspect the whole cabin?”
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
Elara turned towards him.
“Curious.”
“That all?”
She smiled.
“No.”
Bryce stood.
Elara did not move as he crossed the room.
“Careful,” he said.
“Of what?”
“Starting something you expect me not to finish.”
She looked past him at the table.
“Did she sit here?”
Bryce caught her around the waist.
Elara laughed as he lifted her onto the tabletop. The invoices scattered beneath her hands.
“So this is where?” she asked.
“You wanted to know.”
His mouth came down on hers before she could answer.
There was no caution in the kiss. No grief left to manage. Elara caught the front of his shirt and pulled him closer while his hands moved beneath her thighs.
She opened his belt.
Bryce pushed her skirt higher and dragged her to the edge of the table.
“Still curious?” he asked.
“Very.”
He entered her in one hard movement.
Elara’s breath broke against his mouth.
Bryce held her there, one arm tight around her waist, then began to move.
The table shifted beneath them with each thrust. Papers slid to the floor. Elara wrapped her legs around him and pulled him deeper, meeting the force of him without asking for gentleness.
“Here?” she asked.
Bryce drove into her again.
“Here.”
“And the bench?”
His hand closed in her hair.
“Later.”
Elara laughed, then lost the sound when he changed the angle and struck deeper.
She clung to him as the pleasure built. There was nothing restrained in it. Nothing careful beyond the certainty that he would not let her fall.
When she came, her body tightened around him hard enough to break his rhythm. Bryce buried his face against her neck and followed, holding her against him as he finished.
They stayed pressed together over the scattered invoices.
Elara looked down at the mess across the floor.
“You’ll have to sort those again.”
Bryce lifted his head.
“You knocked them off.”
“You put me on the table.”
“You asked.”
“I asked where.”
“You kept asking.”
Elara smiled.
Bryce kissed her once, slower this time.
“Bench next?” she asked.
He looked towards it.
“Not until I move the kettle.”
She laughed against his mouth.