Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
"I’m going to miss this place," she says softly, sadly.
Her words spear my fucking heart, but I don’t want to let her know how much. I get the feeling that any kind of pressure is enough to send her running.
"This place will miss you," I reply, calmly. I want to tell her she can’t leave, that I’ll miss her too much, but keeping my feelings to myself is the right thing to do.
"Do you know how lucky you are?" She snuggles against my chest, wrapping her arm around me.
"Lucky?"
"Yeah. To have a place to be where you feel at home. To want to stay somewhere for good."
"You’ve never had that?"
"Not for a long time."
I kiss her gently on the forehead, hating that I’m aware of the longing in her voice for something that every human being should have. "What about your hometown, where you grew up? Don’t you have roots there?"
"My dad is still there, but it doesn’t really feel like home anymore."
"What about where you were living before you went traveling, near Kyla?"
"It was okay for a while, but it wasn’t home." She sounds wistful and a little bereft, as if admitting her feelings causes her even more hurt.
"Sometimes it’s not the place that doesn't feel like home," I tell her. "Sometimes it’s us. When you’re not content with yourself, you become like a rolling stone."
"I was never into rock," she says, and we both shake with laughter that we struggle to suppress. Everything seems louder with the blanket of darkness overhead. Everything seems more intense with our bodies pressed together and so much left unsaid between us.
I stroke her arm, and lace our fingers together, gently swaying our bodies so we swing back and forth just a little. She slides her foot between mine, shifting closer. If we were in a bed in a private room, maybe we’d get hot and heavy, but I’m glad we’re outside and we can’t. I want this moment to stay innocent and sweet. I want our closeness to be based on something other than sex.
For a while, I wonder if she’s fallen asleep. Her breathing is even and her body slack, so when she speaks, it makes me jump.
"Will you sing that song, Thomas? The one from the first night."
"Iris?" I ask, surprised. The last time I sang it, she cried. Why does she want to hear it again now?
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
The nod of her head is almost imperceptible against my chest, but it’s enough to confirm what she’s asking of me.
When I start to sing the words, she holds her breath, listening intently by angling her head. Her hand tenses in mine, and we clasp our fingers tightly together, so tight that I can feel the bite of her nails into my skin.
When her shoulders hitch, I stop, but she urges me on with a squeeze of her hand. Feeling her cry against me, her tears seeping through my shirt from barely repressed sobs breaks my heart, but she needs this. She wants this.
So I sing on until the end.
Until all the words have floated away on the soft night breeze.
And when I’m done, I don’t ask her any more questions. I tell her about my favorite place, the beaches of the Whitsunday Islands, with crystal clear blue ocean, blindingly white sand, and the manta rays that swim there with no fear. I tell her about my best friend Jordy who got married at twenty and moved to Germany and who I miss every day. I tell her she has to travel to the center of Australia and see the big red rock of Uluru at sunrise.
I give her other things to think about that gradually form layers over whatever sadness she has until the tension leaves her.
She listens, asking no more questions, and eventually falls asleep wrapped in my arms.
28
JOSHUA
I awake to frantic shouting; a man's voice and a woman’s. It’s one word that makes me fly from my bed and through the door, with Jared a second behind me.
Fire.
On bare feet, I run through the central chill-out area, finding Dawn and Thomas scrambling in the outdoor kitchen for a bucket and water. A tail of smoke licks through the office window, and a smoky yellow light bleeds into the night.
Lachlan appears from his room, roaring when he sees the damage to our property and the fire that’s set on further destruction. Before anyone has a chance to hold him back, he smashes his fist into the nearest wall. Dawn runs over, resting her hand on his back as he hunches over in pain, cradling his hand. The shame in his eyes and defeat in his clouded expression is obvious to us both.
When Mitchell and Cooper arrive with half-cracked eyes and sleep mussed hair, they rush behind Thomas to unlock the office door.