Chapter 1
Chapter One
MORGAN
W ith a three-hour drive into Sydney, closely followed by a five-hour flight into Perth, we jump on a smaller plane for an additional one-hour flight before we land in Burra Point.
As soon as I step off the plane, I’m hit with the abrasive heat. Turning back to see Shane step off the plane, when he sees I am waiting for him he wordlessly nods me forward.
I could have gone by myself, but I think Shane’s using it as an excuse to see Rhys. Argh Rhys. I don’t know why I agreed. Well agreed is a loose term. I was heavily strong armed into it. It’s for your safety, Mo. I know he’s right, but I don’t have to be happy about it.
An involuntary sigh leaves my lips when we enter the building they’re trying to palm off as an airport. Taking off my sunnies, I’m met with a six-foot, four-inch, heartbreakingly gorgeous cowboy. But then that cowboy speaks.
“Morgan.”
“Rhys.”
We openly eye each other .
He somehow got broader, taller, and tanner. His sleeves are rolled up, who wears anything with sleeves in this heat? Is that some ink I see on his forearms?
Shane comes up behind me, “Rhys, ya cunt.”
“Shane,”
They shake hands while having a quick embrace, smacking each other’s back twice before pulling apart.
Men.
Rolling my eyes, I walk past them, leaving them to their reunion, heading in the direction of the baggage claim. While I am waiting for my bags, I wonder what I’m going to do here. Since I up and left the city without warning, I lost my job.
The carousel starts to move, bringing in the bags.
I’m too distracted looking for my own, when a hand clasps my shoulder.
I flinch and cower. Fear pumps through my veins.
Gingerly looking over my shoulder to see who it is.
I’m both relieved and annoyed that it’s Rhys, who is now holding his hands up, “Just me, Morgana.”
I hate that fucking nickname. But my anger at hearing it can’t hold off the panic attack. I turn on my heel and rush to the bathroom, hearing Shane say, “She’s a bit jumpy.”
A bit jumpy? No shit asshole. I walk into the toilet and hide in a cubicle, focusing on my breathing. “Come on Morgan, you’re kilometres away from him, state lines separate you.” I take a deep breath in through my nose and slowly exhale through my mouth. “He isn’t here.”
I refuse to let myself be a victim. But in moments like this, where fear and panic take over my body, I can't help but feel like a victim.
“Mo, you okay?” Shane calls through the door .
I exit the cubicle feeling more myself, “Yeah, yeah coming.”
I splash water on my face, and steady myself with my hands on either side of the basin.
“You have this Morgan” I look up and take in the different shades of bruising.
Standing up I pull my shoulders back, take a deep breath, exhale, and exit the bathroom where my brother and his best friend wait for me.
I meet them back at the carousel and when I see my bag I go to grab it, but Rhys grabs it before I can get it. “Don’t, I can get it.”
“Suit yourself.” Then he puts it back on the carousel, looks down at me, and gives me a smirk. We have a very love-to-annoy-each-other sort of relationship. And by the looks of it, that hasn’t changed.
“Prick.” I mutter and chase after my bag.
I’m about to catch back up with them and realise they are deep in conversation.
“I’m not going to treat her as if she’s fragile, you think she would want that?” I wouldn’t and I’m grateful he knows that. Shane on the other hand…
“No, I guess not, but seriously no fast movements, make sure she sees you before you touch her.”
I don’t let Rhys reply. “I don’t need an instruction manual, Shane.” And with that I exit the airport, not quick enough because I hear Rhys’ little quip.
“I think she heard you, mate.”
Rhys laughs, Shane doesn’t but I can imagine the scowl.
When I get outside, I’m once again hit with a wall of heat.
“Is it always this hot?” I ask the void, but of course Rhys hears and answers .
“Yes.” He walks past me while racking his hands through his hair and places his cowboy hat atop his head.
I mouth his “yes” back while making a face and rolling my eyes.
Argh. I don’t know how long I’m going to be here for, but these last ten minutes have been enough. With a sigh I follow Rhys, we walk past a row of the same ute.
White, covered in red dirt and land cruiser.
We get to a, you guessed it, white, covered in red dirt, land cruiser. Except this one isn’t a ute.
Thank God, because I don’t want to be sandwiched between Shane and Rhys. The thought of any man touching me causes goosebumps to skitter over my body, and not the welcomed kind.
Once our bags are in, we all climb in. Which is where Rhys tells us we have to grab a few things for the station. Something about a bus of tourists arriving in the next couple of days.
Three hours later. Three fucking hours.
The back of the car is full. Beer takes up most of the room. Supplies. He’s a moron. We got other things as well. Fishing gear. Meat, which is ironic since it’s a working cattle station, fruit, veg and just pantry items.
I do take the opportunity to stock up on tampons, Panadol and lollies. I should probably get other snacks, but nothing beats sugar and artificial colouring .
“How long does it take to get out there?” I ask as I buckle in my seat belt.
“Ah, two hours or so.”
“Fuck me, are you serious?”
“Um, first, fuck you? Uh yeah, no pass, and second, yes.”
Pass? On fucking me? Dickhead. But then I look at my reflection. Still healing lip, yellow faded bruising around my eyes and the fresh purple fingerprints around my neck.
And they are only the physical marks.
I shift my glasses to cover my eyes, flick the collar of my shirt up and shrink back into the seat.
Of course he wouldn’t want me, I’m damaged goods.
Fixing my headphones onto my head, I scroll through my playlist until I find the song I want.
Why do I care if he wants me or not? I sure as hell don’t want him. It’s Rhys.
I make the mistake of looking up at the rear vision mirror and I hate that his eyes are filled with pity as they trace every mark on my body.
I flip him off and press play. Artificial Suicide by Bad Omens fill my ears and pushes away the growing anxiety.
Halfway through the drive, I pick up the sketchpad and pencils that Shane insisted on buying for me. I haven’t drawn in, I can’t remember how long. Ethan didn’t like it. He said it took time away from him or the housework.
You can’t even draw.
It’s a waste of time.
Look how shit this is , then he would rip it in half.
I throw the sketchpad to the side.
He has taken everything from me, and I hate him for that. Tears prick my eyes. I try to discreetly wipe them, but unfortunately my new security detail catches it .
His lip curls up, I don’t know why or at what. But I do my best to ignore it.
Two hours, thirty-four minutes later, we’re turning off the highway at a sign saying, ‘The Station’. Original. And onto a gravel road, which I can only assume takes us to the homestead.
The road in is corrugated. Meaning it’s bumpy as all hell and slow. I asked why and he just grunted at me.
Shane has mostly been quiet, and Rhys has just had his music blaring. I just watched the scenery pass us by. Didn’t stop the feeling of eyes on me. Every time I looked up, Rhys was looking in the mirror at me but would quickly look away whenever I looked.
Was he looking at the bruises? Pitying me. Again? Either way, I decided to keep my head down and turn away, so the bruising is obscured.
I fucking hate you, Ethan Whitmore.
After what feels like the longest part of this whole trip, we pull up to what can only be described as a small compound.
To the right there are huge sheds, and they even have their own fuel pump. There’s also beat up small four-wheel drives. What the?—?
To the left there’s what appears to be a small shop. The further we drive in, I can see caravans dotted here and there, and even a row of dongas.
“I thought this was a cattle station?”
“It is, but Brent, the owner, turned it into a caravan park as well. Not to mention the backpackers we get here, so he also threw in the dongas.”
I don’t reply, I just sit back and take in everything as we slowly creep by it all .
Then I see the homestead, and it’s beautiful.
Red brick, with large windows, a tin roof, and a wraparound veranda.
Unfortunately, we drive past that as well, only to arrive at a smaller house, that is equally beautiful on the outside.
Unlike the homestead, this is white brick.
Well, it was white. The dust has tinted the bricks a shade of red.
“This is us.” The car comes to a stop, and we all file out and stretch out stiff muscles. Rhys turns to me and says, “I set up one of the rooms for you. Sorry Shane, you’re on the couch, mate.”
“Yeah, no problem. I’m only here for a few days, anyway.”
That’s right, he has to get home because he’s the only decent cop there that isn’t being bullied by the Ridge Riders or the Chief.
“Davis and Beau are out checking and setting up yards; you’ll meet them later.” Shane adds.
I don’t answer. I don’t care. I just want to serve my sentence.
Rhys walks through pointing out the rooms, as if the appliances and furniture couldn’t tell us what was what.
Then we get to what will be my room for the foreseeable future.
I set my sketchpad and pencil down on the desk and sit on the double bed, reminding myself that this is for my safety.
It doesn’t matter how much I told Shane I’d be fine, and that I’m not running away; he packed my bag and drove me to the airport.
Mum looked, well like Mum, when Shane told her, and Dad just cracked open a fresh beer.
“Mo, I’m going to help Rhys unload the car.”
“Okay.” I lay back on the bed and look up at the ceiling. At least there’s a fan in here.
RHYS
That motherfucker. That. Mother. Fucker.
Morgan and I have a love-to-piss-each other-off sort of relationship. But when I saw those bruises marring her body, I wanted to fly back home and kill the guy. I’m surprised Shane didn’t.
He explained what happened and how the guy got away, and that his next and only thought was getting Morgan somewhere safe.
I laugh to myself. Me; somewhere safe. I’m sure Morgan would disagree. Hell, I disagree. But here we are.
She has caught me looking at her a few times. I know she thinks she sees pity, and maybe she did, but I was also formulating a plan.
I’ll let her get used to being this far away from civilisation, let her lick her wounds.
Then I’ll have her help out on the station.
I’ll teach her self-defence and get her back to drawing.
Something she loved, but from what Shane told me on the drive out, she has stopped.
It was good to see her with a sketchpad and pencil in her hand, even if she didn’t draw anything.
Not that I would ever tell Shane, or Morgan for that matter, but I did like to watch her draw. She looked so relaxed and content. At peace.
I’m angrily taking things out of the car when Shane rounds the back, “You look pissed. ”
“You didn’t tell me it was that bad.” I shove a block of beer into his hand.
“I did.”
“She’s been abused and needs to hide," is not telling me how bad it was. Those are the fucking highlights.”
Shane shrugs. “That’s all you needed to know.” I don’t say anything, just reach back into the cruiser to grab the last block. “Why are you this angry? She’s my sister.”
He may have a point there. “Because, fuck Shane, she, she isn’t the same.”
He looks down, “I know.”
Of course he knows. He would have seen the change firsthand. He would have watched as she slowly changed and not been able to do anything. I haven’t seen her in years, so it’s a shock to the system.
“I’ll help her be who she was always meant to be.”
“Thank you, Rhys.” Shane nods and gives me his tight-lipped smile.
We get the rest of the things out of the car and by the time we’re finished, it is right on dusk.
Brent came over and said Cook has prepared a meal for all of us, to welcome Morgan. But I haven’t seen her since we first arrived.
Deciding to be brave, I take her duffel bag to her.
I knock on the door and slowly push it open.
She’s curled up on the bed, sleeping. Placing the bag by the desk I notice her sketchpad is open, but the page is blank.
I really would like to see her draw again.
She’s got real talent. Closing it, I walk over to the bed and try to wake her.
“Hey Morgana, dinner.” I gently shake her shoulder. I use the nickname I know she hates hoping it’ll get a rise out of her. “Oi, Morgan.” I shake her a little harder .
And that’s where I fuck up, because she lets out an ear-piercing scream and scrambles to the corner of the bed. Her eyes look lost, as they frantically search the room.
Shane, Beau and Davis come running in.
“Morgan, hey, fuck. hey it’s me, Rhys.” I pat my chest. “Rhys.”
Her scared eyes settle on me and as soon as they do they go from scared to ablaze with the same fire that she was always aiming in my direction when we were younger. And oddly I’m proud that it seems to still be there.
“I know who you are you fucker, you scared me.” She throws a pillow at me.
“Just letting you know dinner is ready.” I shrug, turn on my heel, giving her my back and part my way through the three men standing in the doorway. Shane looks pained, while Davis and Beau look amused.
“Hey, I’m Beau, and this dickhead is Davis.” Their voices fade as I walk away.
“Morgan.”