Once the tears dry up, I think Rhys will let me go, but he doesn’t. So, I let myself enjoy being held without the fear of the next blow. After some time, I pull my head up off his chest and wipe where my tears once landed.
I wipe at his shirt, “Sorry for crying all over you.”
“Anytime.” His voice is rougher than normal.
When I look at him, I catch him already looking at me. Our gazes lock. He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. His hand lightly trails down the length of my jaw until it’s at my chin. His thumb runs along the bottom of my lip. My breathing hitches. Rhys then cups my cheek, and without thinking I lean up as he leans down. His breath fans over my lips. We’re centimetres away from our lips connecting, when a loud boom echoes around the house.
Jumping, I place a hand over my chest. “Fuck, I guess that storm is hitting.”
I look back at Rhys, and what just almost happeneddawns on us at the same time. We both leap off the couch putting some distance between us.
“That, ah fuck, that shouldn’t have happened.” Rhys rubs his hand over the back of his neck.
“Couldn’t agree more.”
We do some awkward dance where we each don’t know where to walk.Do we walk past each other? Do we use the couch as a buffer? What do we do?
As if hearing my inner thoughts, “Let’s just act like nothing happened.”
“Works for me.”
Then he walks the long way around, avoiding me entirely. Once he exits the loungeroom in the direction of his bedroom, I walk through the kitchen and outside.
The smell of rain hits me first. I take a deep breath in. Fresh rain will always be the best smell. I watch as it turns the red dust into red mud.
Thunderclaps overhead as lightning strikes off in the distance. I’m used to storms, but those are dulled by the city. This, being out here, miles away from any civilisation, the storm is in its most natural form, not dancing around buildings and being dulled by planes of glass.
I have the strange urge to go dance in the rain, and when I see Molly running around in her gum boots, I follow her.
“Morgan!” She squeals and jumps into my arms. She’s soaked, immediately wetting the front of my shirt. “I love the rain.”
She wriggles in my hold; I give one quick small squeeze before placing her down. My heart once again aches for what could have been. I watch her being carefree playing in the rain and Molly’s small hand wraps around mine.Together, we laugh, dance and jump in puddles until we can’t anymore. Mud is covering every inch of us.
I’ve never felt so free.
Chapter Seven
RHYS
The next day I’m still beating myself up for almost kissing Morgan.
She was being vulnerable and opening up about her past. One minute I was picturing the asshole's death, and the next I was thinking about kissing my best friend’s sister.
And that’s why she’s on her way into Burra Point with Dani. Putting some much-needed space between us. Maybe I should move her to a donga, to create even more space. But even then, I know that can’t happen. I push the idea from my mind.
After the storm, there’s thankfully no serious damage. There’s plenty of fallen trees; one fell onto the roof of a donga. I get Davis to clean all that up. Normally that would be Miles’ job, but Davis is still on my shit list. Yes, Morgan is ok. But she still received fifteen stitches.
We should probably have them looked at. She was out in the rain yesterday with Molly. The last thing we need is for it to get infected. Not that she’d tell me if she showed signs ofan infection. She would just try to handle it by herself. Like everything else.
Ron told me she barely flinched when he stitched her up, and he has sewn up big burly men who have cried. His words.
Parking the buggy at the shed, I cross the makeshift road to my place, but I’m stopped by Dani. “Just know I had no part in it.”
“Part in what?”
“You’ll see.” She sing-songs over her shoulder.
I get to the side veranda of my house, and there is Morgan with a fucking puppy in her lap.
