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I decide to approach Amelia as she moves along the fence. The barn’s fences are pretty tall, and although she’s managed so far, the last bits of feed are struggling to come out because she can’t lift the bucket high enough over the fence.

I sigh and mutter, “Lean over the gate a bit more—it’ll come out easier.”

She freezes momentarily at the sound of my voice, turning to look back at me with those big brownish-hazel eyes. There’s an innocence in her gaze that I can’t quite place. I feel a strange pang in my chest as our eyes meet.

I guide her in leaning over the gate, adjusting the angle of the bucket. The last remnants of feed spill into the feeders, and I can feel a smallsense of satisfaction at the successful completion of the task. The cows, content with their meal, continue chewing lazily, oblivious to the minor struggle that just took place.

“There you go,” I mutter, releasing the bucket. Amelia straightens up, offering a small, grateful smile. It’s a fleeting moment, but in those hazel eyes, I catch a glimmer of something more. Maybe it’s relief, maybe it’s gratitude.

Amelia puts the bucket down, her hands brushing off bits of hay, and she turns toward me, her sweet smile unwavering. “Thanks, Bradley. I appreciate the help.”

She remembers my name? It’s one thing for Liv to have mentioned it, but for her to remember it means something different entirely. It’s as if I’ve taken up some space in her mind, some significance. I’m baffled, curiosity now swirling in my head. I shake off the notion and grunt a nod in response, a subtle acknowledgment of her thanks.

Just then, Mum calls out, her voice loud enough to reach us from inside.

“Dinner’s ready, everyone! Come and eat!” Her voice carries through, breaking through the rhythmic clatter of cutlery and dishes being prepared. Xavier packs up the buckets of feed, discarding them inside our shed, and we make our way inside.

Dad takes his seat at the head of the table, and Xavier follows suit, muttering, “I’m bloody starving,” while rubbing his stomach.

With all tasks completed, the girls had bolted out of the barn after their brief stint with the feeding, leaving just Xavier and me behind. He’d exchanged a peculiar glance, but I shrugged it off, not wanting toknow what he was thinking. I take a seat next to Xavier. Mum’s voice echoes through the house again, calling the girls down for dinner. Soon, we hear the familiar creaking of stairs, and both Liv and Amelia appear. Liv joins us at the table, yet Amelia lingers at the stairs, glancing briefly at her phone.

“Amelia, dear. Come and eat,” Mum calls, her tone warm and inviting.

Amelia hesitates. “Oh, it’s okay, really. My mum will be picking me up soon.”

Mum insists, her voice warm and welcoming, “Nonsense, dear. There’s plenty of food. Come, sit.”

Amelia still hesitates, but after a bit of back-and-forth, mustering a small, appreciative smile, she takes a seat—right in front of me.

Mum plates up the food before sitting down next to Dad. Just as Mum is about to say something, Xavier wastes no time diving into his food. I shake my head at his impatience, and Mum admonishes him.

“Xavier Mitchell. We give thanks before we eat.”

He mumbles with a mouth full of food, “Sorry.”

I can’t help but smirk.

Mum starts us off with a quick prayer. “Dear Lord, we thank you for this meal and the hands that prepared it. Bless our time together as a family. Amen.”

I glance around the table, unenthused but playing along. The others seem into it, and I wonder if they genuinely find comfort in this routine. I keep my eyes low, finishing the prayer in silence within myhead.

As we start eating, Mum and Dad begin a conversation that, to be honest, I’m not overly interested in. They talk about the town, the weather, and some local gossip that I couldn’t care less about. I just listen, picking at my food. Across the table, Liv is in her usual animated state, practically bouncing in her seat as she recounts some drama from school.

“Oh, you won’t believe what happened in English class today! Mrs. Simmons gave us this ridiculous assignment, and I swear, it’s like she’s trying to torture us with boredom.”

“Yeah, because your life is just so full of excitement, Liv. I’m sure an English assignment is the pinnacle of thrill for you,” Xavier interjects.

Liv shoots him a playful glare. “Well, at least I’m not the one spending my days talking to cows. Honestly, Xavier, when are you going to get a life outside of the farm?”

This makes me smirk, and I chime in, “He’s married to the cows, Liv. Didn’t you hear? It’s a serious commitment.”

He shoves my shoulder, and I stifle a laugh. I just love to rile him up.

I keep my gaze anywhere but on Amelia, though I can feel her eyes on me. I refuse to meet them, focusing instead on Mum, the kitchen cupboards, Dad, the bracelets adorning Liv’s wrists—anything but her. This family dinner feels like an eternity, and I’m just waiting for it to be over.

My mother’s voice rings in the air. “So, how’d you all go with the feeding today?”

“Fine,” I mutter.