Page 12

A week later

Outside Christchurch

ELLIOTT

The crunch of gravel under our tires fades as I kill the engine, and suddenly the world is alive with the gentle bleating of sheep. I step out of the car, breathing in deeply. The familiar scent of hay and earth washes over me, grounding me in a way nothing else can.

"Welcome to Snow Farm," I say to Liv, extending my hand to help her out of the car.

She takes it, her warm brown eyes widening as she appreciates the sprawling landscape. "Elliott, it's beautiful," she breathes, her Italian accent more pronounced in her awe.

I smile, seeing my childhood home through her eyes. The rolling hills, the weathered barn, the cozy farmhouse – it's all so familiar, yet suddenly new again.

"Come on," I say, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Let's go meet Mum."

As we approach the house, I feel a flutter of nervousness in my stomach. It's ridiculous, really. I'm a professional rugby player, known as the 'Iceman' for my cool demeanor on the field. Yet here I am, feeling like a schoolboy bringing home his first girlfriend.

The screen door creaks open, and there's Mum, her silver hair gleaming in the sunlight. Her face lights up, and suddenly I'm enveloped in a hug that smells of lavender and home-baked scones.

"Oh, my boy," she says, her voice thick with emotion. "It's so good to have you home."

I return the hug, a lump forming in my throat. "Good to be home, Mum."

She pulls back, her eyes twinkling as she turns to Liv. "And you must be the lovely Liv I've heard so much about."

Liv steps forward, her smile radiant. "Mrs. Snow, it's wonderful to meet you. Elliott has told me so much about you and your beautiful farm."

To my surprise and delight, Mum pulls Liv into a warm embrace. "Call me Margaret, dear. We're so happy to have you here."

A wave of contentment washes over me. This is what I've been missing. The perfect blend of my past and my future, right here on this sun-drenched porch.

"Well," I say, clearing my throat. "Shall we head inside? I'm sure Dad's eager to meet Liv too."

Mum laughs, linking her arm through Liv's. "Oh, he's practically beside himself with excitement. He's even dusted off the photo albums."

I groan good-naturedly. "Mum, no. Not the embarrassing childhood photos."

Liv's eyes sparkle with mischief. "Oh, I can't wait to see those, Mrs– I mean, Margaret."

As we step into the house, the floorboards under our feet offer a familiar creak.

This is home. And for the first time in a long while, it feels complete.

When we step inside, the warm aroma of freshly baked bread envelops us, and Liv's eyes light up.

She takes a deep breath, her expression softening.

"Oh my," she murmurs, "it smells just like my Nonna's kitchen."

I smile, watching her take in the cozy farmhouse interior. The familiar scent brings back memories of countless post-practice meals, and I'm hit with a wave of nostalgia.

My dad emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. His rugged features break into a rare smile as he approaches.

"There's my boy," he says, extending a hand. I take it, and he pulls me in for a quick, firm hug. "Good to have you home, son."

"Thanks, Dad." I clear the lump in my throat quickly and turn to Liv. "Dad, this is Liv."

Liv steps forward, her smile warm and genuine. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Snow. Your home is beautiful."

Dad's eyes crinkle at the corners as he shakes her hand. "Call me John, please. And thank you. We're glad to have you here."

I can see the approval in his eyes, and a weight I didn't know I was carrying lifts from my shoulders.

"Now," Mum says, clapping her hands together, "who's ready for lunch? John's been slaving away in the kitchen all morning."

As we move towards the dining room, I lean in close to Liv. "Dad cooking? That's a first. He must really be trying to impress you."

Liv giggles, her hand finding mine. "Well, I'm certainly feeling special."

We settle around the table, laden with a spread that would put some of Auckland's finest restaurants to shame. As we dig in, the conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and the clinking of cutlery.

"So, Liv," Dad says, between bites of roast lamb, "Elliott tells us you own a bakery in Ponsonby. That must keep you busy."

Liv nods enthusiastically. "Oh, it does. But I love every minute of it. There's something magical about creating something delicious from scratch, you know?"

I watch her as she speaks, her passion evident in every word. It's one of the things I love most about her.

"Speaking of creating things from scratch," Mum chimes in, a mischievous glint in her eye, "did Elliott ever tell you about the time he tried to bake a cake for his sister's birthday?"

I groan inwardly. "Mum, please, not that story."

But Liv's already leaning forward, intrigued. "No, he hasn't. Do tell!"

As Mum launches into the tale of my culinary disaster, complete with flour explosions and a cake that could double as a doorstop, I join in the laughter. Liv fits so seamlessly into my family dynamic. This feels right.

This, this is what coming home should feel like.

As the laughter from Mum's story fades, I push my chair back and stand up. "How about a walk?" I suggest, extending my hand to Liv. "I'd love to show you around the farm."

Liv's eyes light up. "Sounds perfect," she says, slipping her hand into mine.

We step out into the afternoon sun, the grass crunching softly beneath our feet. The familiar scent of hay and earth fills my lungs, and I feel a surge of nostalgia.

"This place," I say, gesturing broadly, "it's where I became who I am."

Liv squeezes my hand. "I can see why. It's beautiful, Elliott."

We stroll through the paddocks, the sheep eyeing us curiously as we pass. I point out various landmarks, each one triggering a memory.

"See that old oak tree?" I ask, nodding towards a gnarled giant. "I fell out of it when I was eight. Broke my arm. Mum was furious, but Dad just laughed and said it'd make me tougher."

Liv chuckles. "Did it?"

I grin. "Well, I haven't fallen out of a tree since."

As we walk, I share more stories – the time I got chased by an angry rooster, the secret hideout I built in the barn. Liv listens intently, her warm brown eyes sparkling with interest.

Finally, we reach the Waimakariri River, its clear waters rushing over smooth stones. I pause, memories washing over me like the current.

"This is where it all began," I say softly. "My training, my dedication... my 'Iceman' persona."

Liv looks at me curiously. "How so?"

I kick off my shoes and step into the shallow water, wincing slightly at the cold. "I used to come here every morning, rain or shine. I'd run barefoot on these stones for hours."

"Barefoot?" Liv's eyes widen. "Wasn't that painful?"

I nod, remembering the ache in my feet. "At first, yeah. But it toughened me up, taught me to push through discomfort. It's where I learned to stay focused, to keep going no matter what."

Liv watches me, her expression a mix of admiration and concern. "That's... intense. But I can see how it shaped you."

I wade back to her, taking her hands in mine. "It made me who I am. But you," I say, my voice softening, "you remind me there's more to life than just being tough."

LIV

The midday sun bathes us in golden light, casting long shadows across the meadow.

Elliott’s fingers trace the curve of my jaw, his touch warm and tender.

My heart races, not just from the feel of him close, but from something deeper.

This place, this family—it’s nothing like mine, and I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it.

Elliott’s family has welcomed me with open arms, a warmth I wasn’t prepared for.

His mother, with her soft, easy laugh and those rough, hard working hands, made me feel like I wasn’t just a guest, but someone who belonged.

His father’s quiet strength, the way he looked me in the eye and made me feel like I was more than just Elliott’s girlfriend —it’s all so different from my own family.

So different from the cold expectations and unspoken judgments I’ve grown up with.

I didn’t expect to feel like this—like I was part of something. But here, with them, there’s this… this space where I’m not just trying to keep up, not trying to meet anyone’s standards. It’s a feeling I didn’t even know I was craving until now.

But then, as Elliott brushes a stray lock of hair from my face, I realize something—something I hadn’t let myself think about until now. What does this mean? What does this place, this life, mean for me?

I didn’t come here to make decisions. I didn’t come here expecting to feel like this. But I do —and it’s throwing me off balance.

“Are you okay?” Elliott’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts, his brow furrowed in concern as he watches me.

I blink, smiling softly, trying to mask the storm of emotions swirling inside. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

He studies me for a beat, and I can see the weight of his attention on me, like he knows there’s more I’m not saying. But he doesn’t press, just keeps his fingers gently caressing my jaw.

And for a moment, in the golden light, surrounded by the farm and the people who’ve made me feel more at home than I ever expected, I just let myself be . I don’t have to know the answers yet. I’m not ready to figure everything out. But for now, being here with him feels like enough.

"Liv," he whispers, his voice husky. "I've never felt this way before."

I lean into his touch, savoring the roughness of his callused hands against my skin. "Me neither," I breathe.

Our lips meet, tentative at first, a gentle exploration that sends a ripple of warmth through me. His lips are soft yet firm, moving with an intoxicating blend of caution and need. There’s a hint of the apple we shared earlier, its sweetness mingling with something deeper, something purely Elliott.

As the kiss deepens, urgency replaces hesitation. My hands glide over the expanse of his back, fingers trailing across the ridges of muscle that shift and flex beneath his skin. He feels solid, powerful, and yet, his touch is achingly tender.

Elliott pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, his breath coming fast and uneven. His voice is low, almost a whisper. “Are you sure about this?”

My heart pounds at the vulnerability in his question. I nod, my throat tight with emotion, unable to form words. Instead, I pull him closer, wrapping myself around him, feeling the steady warmth of his body seep into mine.

His arms encircle me, one hand tangling in my hair as his lips find mine again, this time with a hunger that makes my pulse race. Every touch, every kiss feels deliberate, as though he’s telling me something words could never express.

When we come together, it’s as if the world narrows to just us.

I’m acutely aware of the contrast between us—his raw strength and my softer curves, his sun-kissed ruggedness and my city-worn polish.

But in this moment, none of that matters.

The differences that once defined us dissolve, leaving only the perfect symmetry of our connection.

There’s a rightness to it, a harmony I didn’t know I was missing until now. With every shared breath and lingering caress, I’m reminded that sometimes, it’s in the unexpected unions where the most beautiful truths are found.

Afterward, we lay entwined on the blanket Elliott thoughtfully packed. The gentle rustling of leaves and distant birdsong create a soothing melody around us. I trace lazy patterns on Elliott's chest, marveling at how content I feel.

"What are you thinking?" Elliott asks, his fingers combing through my hair.

I smile, propping myself up on one elbow to look at him. "I'm thinking how glad I am that I decided to leave Ponsonby for a bit. Who knew the countryside held such... attractions?"

He laughs, the sound rich and warm. "Are you saying you only like me for my body, Ms. Garner?"

"Well, it is a very nice body," I tease, poking his rock-hard abs. "All that barefoot training on river stones clearly paid off."

Elliott captures my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. "And here I thought you'd fallen for my charm and wit."

I pretend to consider this. "Hmm, those are nice too, I suppose. But have you seen your biceps?"

He rolls his eyes, but I can see the pleased smile tugging at his lips. I snuggle closer, breathing in his scent - a mix of sun-warmed skin and something distinctly earthy. It's so different from the aromas I'm used to in my bakery, yet oddly comforting.

"You know," I muse, "I never thought I'd feel so at home out here. It's about as far from Ponsonby as you can get."

Elliott's arm tightens around me. "Does that mean you might consider sticking around for a while?"

The hope in his voice makes my heart skip a beat. I look up at him, seeing the vulnerability beneath his usual confident exterior. In this moment, he's not the "Iceman" of the rugby world, but simply Elliott - the man I've fallen for.

"I think," I say slowly, savoring the words, "that I could definitely be persuaded to extend my stay."

His answering smile is brighter than the midday sun.