Willison POV

He slammed the shed door shut and stared at the coffee table he was working on. No, he was in no mood to do any delicate work, and if he worked on the coffee table now, he would ruin it. Instead, he focused on a pile of cut lumber he’d collected for a chicken coop. Not just any chicken coop, but the Taj Mahal of chicken coops. It was for his mum. She loved her chooks, even if his dad rolled his eyes at the birds. His mum had named all her chickens, which were good layers, probably because of the love and attention she lavished on them....