Page 69 of Into the Tempest

I smirked. “He was nice-looking, wasn’t he?”

“Hey, I heard that,” Tully said. He was no longer holding the drill, but he did have one nephew over his shoulder. “He was nice-looking. Until he opened his stupid mouth.” He made a face. “Errrr, the blue-eyed weatherman, said the brown-eyed fireman. What a dick.”

“Tully,” Zoe chided. “Language.”

“How come you noticed his eye colour?” I asked.

“Yeah, Tully,” Ellis chimed in. “How come you noticed?”

Tully was about to have another go at Ellis, but Ellis was under a pile of nieces and nephews, and he was smiling for the first time since we’d got back. Tully added another kid to the pile, and with a smile aimed at his mum, we took the box with the bird in it and went home.

It was still daylight outside, but his house was completely boarded up and pitch-black inside. He shone his phone torch around, and everything was just as he’d left it.

No broken windows, no damage.

Not that we could see, anyway. There was certainly no missing roof and demolished house like Ellis’ and countless other people’s.

We were so very lucky.

Tomorrow we would learn more about the widespread damage, and the death toll numbers would start to come in.

But for now, like the boarded-up windows, we could block it out and, for a few hours at least, pretend the outside world didn’t exist.

We put the box with the bird in it on the floor. “Good luck, little guy,” Tully said quietly. Then he led me upstairs. “No power also means no air conditioning,” he said. “But it also means no hot water. Hell, I don’t even know if we have cold water.” He led me straight into his bathroom and put his phone torch up on the sink. “Quickest shower ever, then bed. And I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I’m too tired for sex.”

I snorted. “Honestly, same.”

He pulled his shirt off. “But not too tired for kisses or cuddles.” Then he pulledmyshirt off. “Right?”

“Right.”

He stopped, and putting his head on my chest, he fell against me. I was quick to hold him up. Apparently the cuddles were starting early.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For making me go back to Mum and Dad’s. You were right.”

“I usually am.”

He snorted, barely able to keep his eyes open. I rubbed his back and he got heavier in my arms. “Just wanna stay like this.”

“You’ll appreciate a shower.”

“I’ll appreciate you washing me.”

I kissed the side of his head. “Okay.”

I turned the water on, and yes, there was cold water. No hot. But this was Darwin; the cold water was warm anyway. For me at least. I lured Tully under the showerhead and began to soap us both up.

Scrubbing the dirt, the mud, and the awful day away felt so good—kissing him softly, his lips, his nose, his eyelids—felt heavenly. But exhaustion was setting in, and when Tully swayed on his feet, I shut the water off.

I towel-dried us off the best I could, then helped Tully into bed. I climbed in after him and he wrapped himself around me.

“M’ hair’s still wet.”

“I don’t care.”

“Been a day,” he mumbled. “Thankful we’re okay.”

I kissed his forehead. “Me too.”

---