Mr Preston gave her a tight smile. “No, darling. He realised that you were doing it to prevent the coppers from being called in. He isn’t mad.”

Peyton placed her glass down. “Is that why he went to the Wilcox farm? Because he’s not mad at me? Not after Daisy Wilcox called me a sook after my parents died and claimed I was after the town’s attention. She slapped me in this pub and Jay banned her.”

“She was intoxicated, Peyton,” Mr Preston tried to reason.

Peyton pulled out her phone from her pocket and brought up Jay’s contact to send him a message.

Peyton: Traitor!

“Explains why she goes out of her way to make me trip or have something thrown at me every time she’s in town. Your son deserves better than Daisy Wilcox and you know it.” Peyton got off the barstool, put her phone in her pocket, and picked up her bag.

Mr Preston sighed. “It would take Callum and Graham hurting you before he got the girl.”

Her eyes quickly met his. “Why would you even put your son third on that ridiculous list?”

“Because we all know he’s third on your list, Peyton. My son is a good kid, but he’d never measure up to Callum or Graham. The town saw how you looked at Callum as a teenager. You were completely in love with that boy. And Graham you’ve already promised to marry. Jay knows all of this, yet he’s still at your beck and call.”

There was no anger in his tone or hint of humour on Mr Preston’s face.

Peyton stood there, astonished. She had no comeback. The pub had gone quiet around them, and she cursed her need to mention Daisy Wilcox. Instead of saying another word, Peyton turned around and walked towards the exit. When she opened the door, cold air and rain hit her.

“Peyton, let me get you an umbrella. Or you could stay here until it passes,” Mr Preston said behind her.

It was typical small-town-folk behaviour. Insult a person then offer them shelter from the rain. The buzz of her phone against her thigh had her pulling it out. She had a new message.

Jay: I could say the same thing about you, traitor.

Pulling her wavy, light-brown hair through the elastic band, Peyton tied it up into a high ponytail. She walked to the kitchen window to see the trees branches in the backyard start to sway violently. In the middle of the garden, the rotary clothesline spun and the pegs flew out of the small plastic basket, landing on the wet grass. The rain fell heavily, and she let out a sigh as she fed her arms through her rain jacket.

As Peyton zipped it, the sound of her phone echoed through the kitchen. Looking around, she spotted it on the small buffet that leaned against the wall. She walked over and answered it the moment she saw a picture of a blonde with bright red lipstick on the screen.

“I’m guessing your hibernation is over. Exams done and dusted?” Peyton asked as she walked towards the door that led to the backyard.

“Finally. Ugh, I just need to graduate already. I really shouldn’t have failed a few of those units back in first year. I could have been done by now like you, Peyton,” Madilynne Woodside, her best friend, said.

“You were too busy loving city life,” Peyton stated as she turned the knob and opened the door, feeling the instant hit of the harsh wind.

“What can I say? I loved being in proper clubs in Toorak rather than Jay Preston’s pub that was turned into a ‘club’ on the weekends. It’s so much better than Daylesford,” Madilynne bragged with a gleam in her voice.

“I know. You tell me every time we chat, Mads,” Peyton pointed out as she took a step onto the back porch.

“Well, get your ass here and we can celebrate anything and every—what is that sound? It sounds like a wind tunnel or something.”

A crash of thunder made Peyton jump.

“Jesus, Peyton, are you in that storm? Dude, get inside!”

The worry in Madilynne’s voice had Peyton letting out a chuckle.

“It’s a little rain. I’m just going to move what I can into the shed. Is it bad in the city?” Peyton asked as she walked over to a fallen patio chair.

“It’s not just raining. Seriously, I heard thunder. You’re outside, aren’t you? That’s why I can hear it so clear. I don’t think you should be on your phone while you’re out in that weather. You could get hit by lightning or something!” Madilynne’s voice hitched a little higher.

“The odds of that happening are low. And who cares if I do? Means I don’t have to deal with you coming home,” Peyton teased.

“Hey! I can’t believe you said that. You know that I need your reference for when I apply for management positions.” Madilynne let out a huff.

“Relax, Mads. Just make sure you’re here by the end of next week. This’ll be fun. It’ll be good to have you back in Daylesford,” Peyton said as she picked up the fallen chair. Another deafening rumble filled the air, much closer to where Peyton stood.

“You are the only reason why I’m looking forward to coming home. Mum and Dad complaining that I didn’t become a doctor or a lawyer—or even worse, a politician—is not one of them. Seriously, Peyton, I’m going to hang up now. I will not be an accessory to your death by natural elements. I’ll see you soon and please hurry up and get inside. Don’t think I won’t call someone to make you,” Madilynne warned.

“You’re so dramatic. I’ll see you when you come home. Don’t forget to call me when you’ve passed Ryder’s spot.”

A loud crash had Peyton looking over to see that the gate had flown open.

“I’ll call you from Ryder’s,” Madilynne confirmed before they both hung up.

Ryder’s spot was a short pole on the side of the highway that marked the exact spot where Daniel Ryder had walked almost ten kilometres—drunk—before passing out. The next day, his friends had placed a pole and the exact beer can he had held in his hand to mark the spot. Ryder was famous in town for it, but he had no recollection of it. It was the night he’d drunk away the memory of his girlfriend leaving him. It also became a saying: “Do a Ryder, walk a tenner.”

Turning around, Peyton walked back into the kitchen and placed her phone on the bench. Another bang of the gate had her sighing. If the latch was broken, it would be a sleepless night with the noise.

Leaving the house, she walked towards one of the chairs and picked it up before going down the steps to the shed. Rain drenched her and the wind hit her hard. By the time Peyton placed the chair inside the shed, she had to wipe her face with her cold hands. She panted, trying to get her breath back.

After another roll of thunder, she ran back to the porch to retrieve another chair. She continued to do this until all six chairs were stacked away. In the end, her ponytail was dripping wet and her body started to shiver. Exiting the shed, Peyton looked over at the swinging gate. She debated, deciding to leave it and get back inside the warm house. The gate could be fixed later when the rain had lightened.

A glimpse of a shadow caught her eye and Peyton stopped. Glaring, she saw a black cat sitting on the grass. It was Mrs West’s cat, Mr Lucky. He was a strange cat, hated the sun but loved the rain. Peyton knew Mrs West would be looking for him and decided to return him.

While approaching the gate, Peyton didn’t take her eyes off the cat. She walked slowly, ensuring she didn’t startle it.

Then she raised her hands up and said ever so slowly, “Hey, Mr Lucky. You’re far from home. Let me take you back so you can get warm.”

The cat lifted its head before it meowed at her. She ignored her shivers and slowly walked towards Mr Lucky, smiling when he didn’t immediately run from her. Peyton carefully stopped in front of him then placed her hands on her knees and bent down.