Calla dropped the phone on the passenger seat and unlocked the doors.
Sam opened the driver’s side and reached for her hand. She put hers in his and slid out of the four-wheel drive. Her boots crunched on the road and when she looked up she could see he was soaking wet. His clothes were dripping and clinging to his shoulders and chest, his arms and thighs, and he’d pushed his sodden hair back off his forehead.
‘Oh. Shit. I didn’t think … Damn it, you’re soaked through. You must be freezing.’
He shrugged and shivered. ‘I’m an island boy: don’t worry about it.’ There were droplets of rain on his eyelashes and dripping from his nose and Calla wanted to wipe them all away, one by one.
‘You ran here, didn’t you?’ His hoodie was sagging from his shoulders. His soaked jeans were clinging to his thighs. His runners were waterlogged.
‘Nah. I caught the bus.’
‘You ran here in the cold and the dark and the rain.’
Sam shrugged it off. ‘It’s what I do. I’m a professional hero, remember? I get paid to rescue damsels in distress.’ He took her cheeks in his hands. His fingers were icy and wet but that wasn’t why Calla was shivering.
‘I’m sorry for what I said before,’ he said, looking into her eyes. ‘I was way out of line.’
‘Me too.’ Sam was looking at Calla so intently that her heartbeat thudded that little bit faster. Like, heart-attack faster.
‘I’m trying to understand what’s going on with you.’
‘When I understand myself, I’ll let you know.’
And then his smile was back. The rain came down harder and Calla could feel the wet soaking into her hair and her shoulders. Water dripped off her nose and splattered her glasses. Sam looked fuzzy and streaky.
‘Shall we get in the car?’
Calla didn’t want to walk away from this conversation. There was something she wanted him to understand.
‘Here’s the thing about me, Sam, that I want you to know. I stick by people. I do. Even when I’m the one who ends up getting hurt. Even when it’s my heart that gets broken. I don’t give up. I’m not a runner.’
‘I know. You can’t be. You’d get lost.’
They stood in the darkness for a moment, lost in each other.
‘Lucky I found you, Red.’ He reached for her hand.
‘Thank you for coming to get me,’ she said.
That sexy grin was back. ‘I bags the first shower. I deserve it, don’t you reckon? Running all this way, dodging wild turkeys, to get to the damsel?’
She found her own sexy smile to flash back at him in the rain. ‘I was right. You are an arrogant arsehole.’
CHAPTER
29
Sam lay awake, his fingers linked under his still-damp hair. It wasn’t the thin and scratchy blanket that was keeping sleep away, or the fact that the bed was a double and too short by about two feet. His feet, specifically. It wasn’t the fact that he’d had an adrenaline rush like a drug surging through him when Calla had called, thinking that something serious had happened to her. And it wasn’t the two-kilometre run — in the rain — back to the pub to rescue her, either.
It was purely and simply, infuriatingly, the fact that she wasn’t in his bed.
When they’d returned to the cabin, they’d taken turns in the shower. He’d been the perfect gentleman and let her go first. Which meant he’d been forced to listen to her singing. Her sweet voice echoing through the cabin only served to remind him that they weren’t skin to skin. The water splashing on the tiles was like percussion, and when he listened closely he recognised it as one of the Motown tunes she’d chosen from his iPod when they first drove out to Roo’s Rest.
He’d waited in the kitchen, his wet clothes in the washing machine, a towel wrapped around his waist, cradling a coffee in his hands to thaw him out. The coffee was a weak-arse substitute for the warmth he really wanted. Skin to skin, her body on his, all around him, invading him. Her breath on his cheek as she came, panting, begging, saying his name.
They’d lost their chance. She was going home in the morning and the idea of a goodbye-and-see-you-round-fuck had lost some of its lustre after their fight. There was something more between them now than one night could assuage. He knew too much about her, liked her too much, to fuck her and then say goodbye.
Sam rolled onto his side, pulled the blankets up around his ears. He really needed to sleep. Usually, the crisp and clear Kangaroo Island air knocked him right out, but something was different this time. He felt tension coiling in almost every part of his body. It was the Charlie situation: that was all. He knew it was crunch time. It had to be. He couldn’t keep making this trek back over the water to check on him. The old man had to be somewhere safe.
Tomorrow would be a long day. He’d drop Calla off at the ferry first thing, and then drive out to the old man’s place, see how he was doing.
Tomorrow would be a long and lonely day, he realised.
Nice knowing you, Red.
Calla listened to the whirr of the fan heater as it pumped warm air into her bedroom and tried really, really, stupendously hard not to think about what Sam had said back at the pub. It had better be about fucking me …
It was all she could think about now. Sam’s kiss. His hard body. His mouth. The chest she’d already seen naked. Pity she hadn’t been thinking about sex back then or she would have taken a lot more notice. And now he was a few metres away, in bed. Probably naked. She threw an arm over her eyes to block out the light from the clock radio on her bedside table. She squeezed her thighs together to fight off the tension building there. The tension could build as much as it liked, because all that flirting in the rain, all that discussion about spending the night together, had come to nothing.
The moment had passed. The truth was, she’d got cold feet. And it wasn’t just from being soaked to the bone by the rain. She was going home in the morning and, while the idea of spending her last night with Sam sounded like maybe the best thing to ever happen to her, she feared she might never get over it.
The Greek chorus of doom inside her head began singing a song she knew well.
He’s not going to fall in love with you.
Those words hurt but she wanted them to. She had to keep her perspective about the handsome Sam Hunter. So they’d kissed. Big deal. She’d been kissed before. And she knew she could walk away from his mouth and his sweet words. Tomorrow, this adventure would be over. Sam had to stay and convince Charlie to leave Roo’s Rest, and she would go back to Adelaide. Whatever magical effect the island was having on her would be undone when she crossed the water and got back to her real life. Her simple real life, in which she could shed all her old skin and memories and heartbreaks and start afresh.
It was about time Calla Maloney did what made her happy. It was about time she started to live the life she should have been living all these years.
And she was absolutely, positively certain that that life should involve real love, not accidental lust. Not desperate love. Not last-chance love. Not one-night lust.
And if she had to wait forever for it, she would.
Because she was already planning her new life, and it was going to start tomorrow.
Calla woke uncharacteristically early. As she worked her eyes open, bright morning light streamed through the curtains in her holiday-cabin bedroom. The fan heater was the only sound she could hear. She listened for any signs of life on the other side of her bedroom door. It was silent. She slowly got out of bed, speared her feet into her Ugg boots before they hit the cold floor, and covered her pink flannelette PJs with her black cardigan.
She opened the door slowly. There was no sign of Sam. The living area and kitchen were empty and his bedroom door was still closed. Then she saw him outside on the small deck. He was scrolling through something on his iPad and drinking a coffee.
She didn’t want to talk to him yet, wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted to say. Thank you didn’t seem nearly enough for what he�
�d done and how he’d helped her. So she bought some time, went to the kitchen, put the kettle on and made herself some toast. When it was smothered with just the right combination of butter and Vegemite, she took her coffee and sat on one of the sofas in the living area. She watched him through the window while she ate. His back was to her, his big navy coat keeping him warm, his dark hair unruly.
Calla wondered about his real life in Adelaide, tried to pick where he lived, what he did when he wasn’t working. He clearly liked to cook. Liked wine. Running. He had a fondness for classic Aussie rock with a side of American oldies thrown in, and was divorced. There was a loyalty to his father that, despite his grumbles, seemed real and true. He had a way of talking that sucked you in like a well-written mystery novel, in his deep and rough voice that sounded like sex. He liked to joke and tease, and laughed warmly at other people’s stories. When he listened to you, he zeroed in on your eyes as if his were laser beams.
She sighed. Not a lot there to hate. When the right woman came along for him, he’d be a catch. Having Sam Hunter in love with you would be like winning the man lottery.
When he stood up, pushed the chair back and turned, Calla tried to look absorbed in her coffee. She sipped it and realised it had gone stone-cold. The sliding door squeaked open and Sam stepped inside. Over his shoulder, the sky looked enormous and blue, not troubled by a single cloud.
‘Morning.’ He walked over to the small kitchen and put his cup in the sink.
‘Morning,’ she replied, trying to sound bright. Morning perky. It didn’t come naturally.
‘Sleep well?’
Calla turned to him. ‘Yes.’ No.
‘You’re up a little earlier than I expected.’ Sam glanced at his watch. ‘The next boat back to Adelaide leaves in two hours.’
‘Oh, right.’ Calla felt a rush of relief flood her chest. Not sleeping with him had been for the best. She’d made the right decision last night. For if she had given in to what she’d felt, she’d be sitting there right now going over each word of that brush-off. She would have mulled over every syllable, picked them apart and taken them to heart. This way, in the cold light of the morning after the night in which she didn’t have sex with Sam Hunter, she could see he was simply trying to be kind and helpful. ‘I’d better get packed then.’
‘Wait.’
They were so far away from each other, he in the kitchen, she in the living room, that she couldn’t quite read the expression on his face.
‘Here’s the thing.’ Sam ran a hand over his hair. ‘I don’t want you to get on it.’
Huh? ‘I’ve made up my mind, Sam, really.’
‘Hear me out. I don’t think you should leave the island with so much unfinished business between you and your brother.’
Calla realised the tone in his voice wasn’t arrogant or lecturing. It was something else entirely, something she couldn’t pick. ‘Sam, you—’
He held up a hand. ‘I know, I know. Call it the arrogant arsehole in me. But I’m right on this one. You should face Jem, face whatever happened between you, and try to sort it out. There’s something about you, Calla, I don’t know what it is … I saw it with Charlie.’ He sighed and laughed like he couldn’t believe what he was thinking. ‘You have a way of wrapping blokes around your little finger.’
She did? His words were a shock. She’d never had any such power over anybody. ‘I wish I did. Maybe then I wouldn’t be here trying to clean up my life.’
Sam bridged the distance between them and sat next to her on the sofa. He leant forward, his elbows on his knees.
‘I realised something last night. I’ve never asked you what happened with Jem. What happened in your family? I want to know, Calla. I want to understand why you don’t want to face him. Surely nothing is so bad that you can’t talk to him.’
Calla stared at her hands; her fingers twisted together in a knot. His unflinching gaze and the common sense in his words were about to make her cry. Where should she start? How could he possibly understand?
She took a deep breath. ‘For two years I’ve almost killed myself worrying about my little brother. For half of that time I thought he was dead. Every time a body was found somewhere, every time there was a car accident and it came on the news, I would get a panic attack. Every time I wondered if it was Jem.’
Sam reached for her hand. ‘That must have been a nightmare for you, not knowing.’
‘I felt like I was stuck in some kind of limbo. I couldn’t move on with my life. My parents were dead and then Jem disappeared. It felt like I’d lost most of my family. Thank god for Rose.’
‘You’re close to your sister.’
‘I am. There’s only the two of us left. Or that’s what we thought until a couple of weeks ago.’
‘You haven’t lost him. All we have to do is make a phone call and you’ll know for sure. When they’re gone, you lose that chance forever, Calla.’ Sam pulled his phone from the pocket of his jeans. ‘I have Jessie’s number. I can call her right now and you can talk to him.’
Calla whipped the phone out of his hand. ‘Don’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I …’
‘Tell me. Why are you scared to see him, Calla?’
‘You really want to know the truth?’
‘Of course I do.’
Calla steeled herself. ‘The last time I saw Jem, it was horrible. It was the day Dad died and we were all upset and yelling at each other. I was hurt. That’s why I know about having a concussion. I’ve had one before.’
Sam gripped her fingers so tight she thought he might squeeze the life out of them. ‘Fuck. Is he an addict? A drinker? Is that why he hurt you? Is that why he’s been here hiding out? What the hell has my cousin let herself in for? And the baby?’
‘No, nothing like that. I tripped and fell. Got knocked out for a minute. He was horrified and he ran. He was always the gentlest boy, really. And maybe … maybe that’s why he was so devastated by what happened.’
Sam put an arm around her shoulders and Calla moved into him. She didn’t second-guess why. She slipped her arms around him and pulled herself into his warmth, into the safety of his embrace.
‘He said he hated me.’
‘I’m sure he didn’t mean it, Calla.’
‘If I go, will you come with me?’ she whispered. She looked up at Sam and waited for a response.
‘I’ll be there. And you’ll be safe with me,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘I promise you that.’
CHAPTER
30
Sam slowed his vehicle and turned left off the main road, past a sign that warned No Through Road. The smooth ride of bitumen ended and they were on a dirt track, the rough red dirt recently smoothed by graders but pockmarked by potholes of water anyway. Ahead, there was track as far as the eye could see. Above her, a cloudless blue sky and, on each side, impenetrable bush. Scrubby gums, grasses, yaccas with their flowering spikes reaching to the sky, shards of bark and shadows if you looked deeper. It was not a place to get lost, Calla decided.
Unless you really wanted to hide, which Jem clearly did. And now he was a few minutes away. Two years and a few minutes would be all it would take. He was a father now. He had a partner. He had a new life. There were so many questions to ask him that she wasn’t sure where to start.
She felt Sam’s hand on her thigh and she covered it with her own.
‘You’ve been quiet,’ he said, glancing her way.
She was so glad to have him by her side, this kind man. He was a comfort to her, his strength supporting her, his reassurance just what she needed as the nervous energy began to take hold, twist her stomach and shatter her confidence, to make her doubt what she was doing and that she would be able to handle it.
Calla tried to find a smile to give him. ‘I’m a bit nervous, that’s all.’
Sam drove around a gum-tree branch that had fallen on to the track. Calla liked the swerve of the vehicle as it rounded and straightened. Liked the way Sam was
in charge. A little part of her knew she would be protected as long as she was with him.
‘I’m here.’ His soft eyes held hers for a second and he lifted his hand to stroke her cheek.
‘You most definitely are,’ Calla said with a sigh. She entwined her fingers with his and lifted her hand to press his fingers against her cheek.
He was with her in every way that counted. Sam had lived without a brother and she sensed his deep understanding of what the past two years had been like for her. How could she compare Jem with Andy? Andy was dead. The Hunter family had been torn apart by that loss and Sam’s sadness was still so vivid after all these years.
‘Is it far?’ Calla peered out the windscreen.
‘We’re almost there. So. How do you want to handle this?’
She shook her head. ‘I have absolutely no fucking idea.’
There was a curve in the road ahead and they turned right before rounding a curve back to the left. There it was: Hidden Bay. For a place with such a romantic name, there wasn’t much of anything to it. The road branched out into an open space about the size of two tennis courts, sand and red dirt mixing into hues of orange. Beyond it were two buildings, their roofs just visible above the scrubby coastal bushes. There was a white four-wheel drive parked in between the two shacks, a roof rack with a fishing rod strapped to it, all covered in red dust. And past all of that was the beautiful water, grey-green today but undoubtedly turquoise in the sun. Calla guessed that if you were going to live so far away from civilisation you might as well do it in a place like this.
Sam pulled up and turned off the growling engine. He undid his seatbelt and turned to face Calla. She unclipped hers and held a hand to her fluttering stomach. They sat in silence.
‘Just a warning. This may not go very well,’ she said. ‘He might not want to see me, which means we could be back at Penneshaw in time for lunch.’
‘Where I come from, it takes two to fight. And it’s usually two stubborn-as-hell people who can’t see the wood for the trees. Who can’t see what they mean to each other.’ Sam’s eyes were dead ahead, looking out to the water, but she saw his jaw clench.
Only We Know Page 18