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“You’re fitter than you give yourself credit for,” Ste says, his gaze warm. “Besides, it’s not about being perfect. It’s about having fun.”

Ben chimes in. “He’s right, you know. And you might surprise yourself. Sometimes stepping out of your comfort zone is exactly what you need.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, waving them off, but I can’t help smiling. “I’ll think about it.” The idea of spending more time outdoors, doing something active, does sound appealing, and if I can properly give up the reins at work, it’ll make getting a weekend off a month possible.

“Good,” Ste says, his voice quieter now. “You should.”

For a moment, our eyes meet, and something unspoken passes between us. Maybe it’s the wine, or the warm glow of the evening, but I feel… lighter. Like maybe, just maybe, taking a chance isn’t as scary as it seems.

Carol and Ben eventually excuse themselves, leaving Ste and me alone in the soft light of his living room. The silence stretches, comfortable but charged, until Ste breaks it.

“Thanks for staying,” he says, his smile genuine. “I know you’re busy, and… it means a lot.”

“Anytime,” I reply, and I mean it.

For him? Always.

ChapterThree

Ste

“Why have we not done this before?” I murmur, opening one eye to look at Kiefer.

He cut the small engine off a while back. Since then, we’ve been rocking lazily in the small tin boat on Lake Cootharaba. Sure, there are people around—a few tinnies, some small sailboats, and kids playing near the shallow shoreline—but the area’s so damn peaceful.

Admittedly, when he suggested borrowing his friend’s tin boat and for us to spend the morning here, I had my doubts. And when I spotted the fishing rod, I kinda blanched, but honestly, everything from the clear blue sky overhead, the perfect 28 Celsius late-autumn heat, and the way the water glimmers like liquid glass makes me want to bottle this moment and keep it forever.

Kiefer shifts, pulling his cap off to run a hand through his hair, then settling it back on his head. “Because you’re stubborn,” he says, voice teasing. “If it’s not your idea, you can take weeks to get on board.”

“Rude,” I reply, though my grin gives me away.

He leans back, stretching his legs out, his knee brushing against mine. “It’s not untrue,” he says, turning to the small Esky by his feet. When he opens it and starts unpacking what can only be described as a feast, my stomach growls loud enough to make us both laugh.

“Mate,” I say, my voice full of awe, “what is this?”

He smirks, handing me a plate stacked with Aussie classics. There’s a mini meat pie with its buttery, flaky crust, sausage rolls wrapped in golden pastry, and even a slice of lamington, its chocolate and coconut coating glinting in the sun.

“You’re too easy to predict,” he says. “Figured I’d bring stuff you can’t say no to.”

“You made all this?” I ask, taking a bite of the pie. It’s super fresh, and the filling is perfectly spiced.

“Yeah,” he says with pink cheeks. “I got up early this morning. And the fairy bread?” He gestures to a small container with slices of white bread smeared with butter and covered in rainbow sprinkles. “Those took a lot of time to put together.”

I burst out laughing, even as warmth races through me that he’d do all this for me. “Of course they did. You’ve got a real talent there.”

We eat in companionable silence for a while, the occasional tug on the fishing line our only distraction. The lake is calm, the kind of calm that sinks into your bones and makes you forget you’ve ever been stressed a day in your life.

“So, what’s the deal with this Outback Boys thing?” I ask between bites. I may have been the one to have first found it mentioned on social media, but I haven’t done much research into it.

Kiefer sits up a little, his eyes brightening. “They organise stuff all over Queensland. There’s a chapter on the Sunny Coast, so it’s not far. Plus, they do a big overseas trip every couple of years.”

“Overseas?” I ask, intrigued.

“Yeah,” he says, adjusting his cap. “Last time, they went snowboarding in Canada. Can you imagine? A bunch of Aussie blokes in the snow? Apparently, the trip was a bloody riot.”

I try to picture it, and the mental image makes me laugh. “We’d have to stock up on thermals. I’m not sure I’m built for the cold.”

“Yeah, but think of the fun we’d have,” he says, his voice warm and full of possibility. “And it’s not just about the trips. It’s about meeting people, expanding our circle. Gympie’s been great, but there’s more out there.”