Page 273 of The Storm Boys Series Collection

I laughed. “Didn’t you have enough last night?”

He shook his head and fell back onto the bed. “Never, apparently.”

I peeled the lid off the yoghurt, added a spoon, and handed it out for him. “Eat up. We have to get down the ridgeline.”

He took the yoghurt and sat up again, frowning this time. “Oh yippee. My favourite wild pig track. Nothing like a vertical descent down the mountainside to wake me up.”

I peeled the banana and pretended to deep throat it before I licked the length of it. “I have plans for you this afternoon, so hurry up and eat.”

He stared at the banana, then shook his head. “Using promises of sex as a bribery tool is incredibly manipulative.”

I bit the banana. “But it’s effective. Now eat.”

Half an hour later, fed and showered and packed up, we were back in the Jeep. Paul and Derek were nowhere to be found, so we didn’t get to say goodbye, but I did beep the horn on our way out.

And down the side of the mountain we went.

Jeremiah only swore and gave me the stink eye a few times, and soon enough we were pulling up at the bunker.

He was smiling now.

He really did love it here. The seclusion, the ruggedness of it. That it was basic and rudimentary essentials and nothing else.

We got the side walls up and I checked for any uninviteds. I made sure the shower and toilet were frog-free, and Jeremiah gave everything a bit of a clean.

By mid-afternoon, it was stinking hot and we were both shirtless and sweaty, and he looked as happy as I’d ever seen him.

Maybe this was my favourite kind of Jeremiah...

We had one laptop monitoring the weather, and we did bring his new automatic weather station. He also wore his watch and we’d brought the chest strap, strictly for medical reasons, but he wasn’t wearing it.

He was looking at the weather radar, and I was lying on the bed, tryin’ not to think about what I needed to show him, wondering when would be the perfect time. Was there ever a perfect time?

Every time I thought of it, my nerves buzzed around in my chest like a box full of bees waiting to explode.

“There’s increased storm activity about to hit,” he said. “Lightning activity likely.”

I sat up. “We’ll be okay here, Jem.”

He nodded, though that line between his brows told me he didn’t really agree with me.

And then he started pacing.

I stood up and went to him, stopping his pacing with a tight hug. “You know you’re safe here, and you’ve been in electrical storms since. Wanna tell me what’s really bothering you?”

“Nothing.”

I took his wrist and looked at his watch. “Uh, your stress beacon here says otherwise.”

He grumbled. “I hate this watch.”

I pulled his hips flush with mine and held his gaze. “We had storms here last year and you were fine.”

He frowned again but wouldn’t look at me. “I know. I just...”

“Jem,” I said, chasing his gaze until he looked at me. “What are you worried about? Tell me.”

“I’m not worried. I just...”

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