Page 31

“George!” Julie called, bustling down the steps.

She was shorter than Myst had imagined but had George’s same bright blue eyes and an air of warmth that made her instantly likable.

“And this is the famous Myst.” Without hesitation, she wrapped Myst in a hug that smelled faintly of lavender and soap.

“We’ve been waiting for you, we feel like we already know you! ”

“Thank you so much for having me,” Myst said, her voice soft but genuine as she returned the embrace. “George talks about you all the time.”

“He’s a good boy!” Julie reached up and patted George’s cheek. Myst stifled a laugh at his outraged expression.

“Now come inside, both of you. The barbecue’s already started, and knowing this lot,” Julie gestured vaguely toward the house, where the laughter of children rang out, “they won’t leave anything for us if we don’t hurry.”

The backyard was alive with movement and chatter, the sound of kids shrieking joyfully as George’s nieces and nephews played a wild game of tag among the gum trees.

A long wooden table groaned under the weight of platters filled with fresh salads, bread rolls, and pavlova topped with strawberries.

The grill smoked invitingly as George’s brother-in-law expertly flipped steaks.

“Pass me those tomatoes, would you?” one of George’s sisters asked Myst as they worked side by side in the kitchen. Ellie, Myst thought. She hadn’t quite got them all straight yet.

“Here you go,” Myst said, handing them over before slicing another cucumber. It wasn’t until she glanced out the window and saw George tossing a rugby ball with one of the kids that she realized how seamlessly she’d slipped into the rhythm of things. Like she belonged.

“Can you really sing?” a small voice broke through her thoughts. Myst looked down to find one of George’s nieces staring up at her with wide, curious eyes. “Uncle George says you’re famous.”

“Really now?” Myst said, shooting a mock glare at George through the window, though he was too busy laughing with the kids to notice. She crouched slightly to meet the girl’s gaze. “Do you think I should prove him right?”

“Yes!” came the enthusiastic reply, echoed by several other kids who had magically appeared from nowhere.

“Alright, alright,” Myst laughed, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “Let me grab a guitar.” She’d spotted one in the front room, though goodness knows if it was in tune.

It wasn’t long before she was perched on a low wall, an acoustic guitar resting against her thigh as everyone gathered around.

The hum of conversation quieted as she strummed the opening chords of one of her hits, a slower, stripped-down version that seemed to fit the moment.

Her voice, warm and rich, carried across the yard, blending with the rustle of leaves and the distant crash of waves.

When she finished, the applause was immediate and heartfelt, the kids cheering the loudest of all.

“Alright, Captain,” Myst said, grinning as she leaned the guitar against the wall. “Your turn.”

“Not happening,” George declared, raising both hands in mock surrender. “Rugby players don’t sing.”

“Shame,” one of his sisters chimed in. “You could’ve been the next Australian Idol.”

“Yeah, yeah,” George muttered, though his grin betrayed his amusement. His eyes found Myst’s, and for a moment, he simply watched her, standing there amid the chaos of his family, the sunlight striking red lights in her dark hair. She was radiant.

“Alright then,” Myst said, brushing imaginary dust off her hands. “Guess I’ll have to carry the musical legacy for both of us.”

“Reckon you’re doing just fine,” George said, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

“Just fine?” she teased. “Better watch yourself, Dennis, or I might start charging performance fees.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, tugging her close enough to press a quick kiss to her temple. “Whatever it costs, you’re worth it.”

The sand was cool beneath Myst’s bare feet, the grains slipping between her toes as she walked beside George.

The rhythmic crash of waves filled the air, a soothing backdrop to the quiet that had settled between them.

Overhead, the stars stretched endlessly, scattered across the inky sky like someone had spilled a jar of glitter.

“Your world’s not so bad,” Myst said finally, her voice soft. She glanced sideways at George, who had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, his long strides slowed to match her pace. “I could get used to this.”

“Not exactly stadium lights and screaming fans, is it?” he teased, his lips curving into that crooked smile that always made her heart skip a beat.

“Exactly,” she murmured, her gaze drifting back to the ocean.

“It’s… grounding.” She paused, brushing a strand of wind-tousled hair out of her face.

“Thanks for letting me in, George. For showing me all of this, your family, your home. I feel like I’ve been running on adrenaline for years, and now…

” Her voice trailed off, but the contentment in her sigh finished the sentence for her.

“Now you’re stuck with me,” George quipped, bumping her shoulder lightly with his arm.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she shot back with a grin, though her eyes betrayed the depth of her affection. “But seriously, I needed this. I didn’t even realize how much until today.”

“Well,” George began, his tone softening as he stopped walking and turned to face her, “they love you, you know. Mum, my sisters, the kids, they couldn’t stop talking about you after you sang.

” He reached for her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

“And honestly? I don’t blame them. You have this way of…

fitting, like you’ve always been part of this chaos. ”

Myst looked up at him, her pale blue eyes searching his face. “It felt like I belonged,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I haven’t felt that in a long time.”

“Then you’re right where you’re meant to be,” George said simply, his words steady and sure.

For a moment, neither of them moved, standing there amidst the sound of the waves and the endless stretch of stars above. Then George gave her hand a gentle tug, leading her toward the dunes where they sank down together on the cool, soft sand, the world shrinking to just the two of them.

“Alright,” he said, lying back with his arms folded behind his head. “What’s next for Myst?”

“Big question,” she replied, sitting cross-legged beside him, her fingers idly tracing patterns in the sand.

She let the silence linger for a beat before answering.

“I think it’s time for something different.

I’ve been going nonstop for years… recording, touring, interviews, repeat.

But coming here, meeting your family… it’s sparked something.

I want to write an album that feels real .

Something personal. No big producers, no over-the-top spectacle.

Just me and the music. Acoustic, maybe.”

“Yeah?” George tilted his head to look at her, his expression curious. “You reckon you can sit still long enough to make that happen?”

“Rude,” she said with a mock glare, flicking a handful of sand in his direction. “But yes, I can. I need to. It’ll be inspired by this… by you, by your family, by everything I’ve been too busy to notice lately.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” he said, his voice low and thoughtful.

“Not quite,” she admitted with a small laugh. “But it feels like the first step in a while that’s completely mine, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” he said, nodding slowly. “And hey, if you need a break from all that creative genius, you’re welcome at every rugby game from now on. Off-seasons, too; I’ll even teach you how to throw a decent pass if you’re feeling adventurous.”

“Careful,” she warned, pointing a finger at him. “I might actually take you up on that.”

“Good,” he said, grinning as he sat up and leaned closer. “Because you’re going to have to get used to rugby being a regular part of your life. Non-negotiable.”

“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But only if you agree to be my backup dancer when I go back on tour.”

“Deal,” he shot back without missing a beat, though the idea clearly amused him. “But fair warning, I can’t promise I won’t steal the show.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” Myst replied, her voice warm with laughter.

They fell into a comfortable silence then, lying side by side on the sand, their hands loosely intertwined.

Above them, the stars burned bright, as if the universe itself was listening to their promises.

They both knew it wouldn’t always be easy; their lives were complicated, pulled in every direction by fame, schedules, and expectations.

But as Myst rested her head against George’s shoulder and he pressed a kiss to her hair, they also knew one thing for certain: whatever came next, they’d face it together.

A month later, the late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow over the verandah as Myst leaned back into her chair, her bare feet resting on the wooden railing.

The hum of conversation and bursts of laughter from George’s family surrounded her like a familiar song, blending with the distant crash of waves against the shore.

In the yard below, George’s nieces and nephews were locked in a chaotic game of backyard cricket, their high-pitched cheers and shouts carrying through the salty breeze.

“That’s a no-ball, mate!” George called out, his deep voice cutting through the racket as he lounged beside Myst, one arm draped casually across the back of her chair.

He grinned when his youngest nephew protested loudly, waving the bat indignantly.

“Don’t argue with the umpire,” he added, smirking as the boy huffed and reset his stance.

“Your umpiring skills are questionable at best,” Myst teased, tilting her head to look up at him. Her pale blue eyes sparkled with mischief, and she reached over to steal a sip of his drink without asking. George raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“Careful, love,” he said, leaning closer so only she could hear. “Keep that up and they’ll put you in charge next.”

“Maybe I will,” she shot back, setting the glass down with a confident clink. “I’d be fairer than you, at least.”

“Guess we’ll see,” he murmured, his grin widening as he brushed a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. The simple gesture made her heart skip, though she’d never admit it aloud, not here, where Jessie sat just a few feet away, undoubtedly ready with a snarky comment.

“Oi, Dennis!” Jessie’s voice broke through the moment, sharp and amused as she leaned forward in her chair. “You gonna let her run the show now, or are you too scared to challenge her?”

“Smart money’s on Myst,” Lachie chimed in from across the yard, where he was busy flipping sausages on the barbecue. “She’s got the star power and the brains.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Myst called back, laughing as George groaned dramatically beside her. She gave his knee a playful pat. “See? Even your mates know what’s what.”

“Traitors,” George muttered, shaking his head but unable to hide his amusement.

Jessie had come to a game with Myst and Lachie had taken one look and lost his heart, amusing both George and Myst. Both of them had promptly been adopted into the Dennis family too, and were regular fixtures at the Sunday barbecues.

“Now, now,” came Julie’s voice as she appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a tea towel.

Her tone was light, but the glint in her eye was unmistakable, the kind of look that promised trouble, the fun sort.

“Enough squabbling. Let me ask the real question everyone’s been wondering.

” She stepped onto the verandah, pausing to take them both in: Myst comfortably tucked into George’s side, his hand resting loosely on hers.

“When are you two going to settle down properly?” Julie asked, her smile warm but teasing as she folded her arms. The words hung in the air, drawing a sudden hush from the group.

Myst felt George’s fingers tighten around hers ever so slightly, a silent reassurance. She turned her head to meet his gaze, their eyes locking for a beat longer than necessary. Oh, he was enjoying this, she could tell by the way his lips twitched, holding back a grin. Typical.

“One step at a time,” Myst said finally, her voice soft but steady as she broke the silence. She glanced back at George’s mum, offering a small, knowing smile. “We’ve got plenty of time to figure it all out.”

“Plenty,” George echoed, his Australian accent wrapping around the word like a promise. His thumb brushed gently against her knuckles, grounding her in the moment.

“Fair enough,” Julie said with a wink, clearly satisfied. “But don’t keep us waiting too long, I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

“You’ve got quite enough grandkids to be going on with, Ma!” George said teasingly.

The whole group burst into laughter, the tension dissolving as quickly as it had formed.

Jessie rolled her eyes, muttering something about meddling mothers under her breath, while Lachie shouted something unintelligible from the barbecue.

Myst let herself relax back into her chair, the corners of her mouth lifting despite herself.

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, Myst and George sat quietly amidst the happy chaos.

The kids’ laughter echoed across the yard, mingling with the rhythmic sizzle of the grill and the comforting murmur of family chatter.

George’s hand remained in hers, a steady presence.

“Not bad, huh?” he said after a while, his voice low and quiet, meant just for her.

“Not bad at all,” she agreed, her gaze drifting to the horizon. The future stretched ahead of them like the endless expanse of sea and sky, full of possibility, full of hope.

And as they sat there, fingers intertwined, watching the world around them settle into a perfect kind of harmony, Myst couldn’t help but think: they really did have all the time in the world.