Chapter 27
the twenty seventh chapter
MARCO
Daylight is beginning to fade now.
The river darkens into gold at the edges.
Seeking comfort in Amos's arms, I pause for a kiss.
“Can't believe you're really here.”
The man I adore has stepped back in time with me.
“Where else would I be?”
He cups my face in his hands.
But I’m still on edge.
I need to settle my nerves by keeping busy.
“We should set up camp before we lose the light. The tent can go here.”
I draw a line in the dirt with my shoe, ticking off a checklist in my head.
“Maybe a couple of chairs right… here.”
“I recognise that voice,” he teases. “Marco Adams, delegating to his crew.”
“You love it.”
“Just add flannel and an akubra.”
“You will never ever catch me wearing flannel,” I scoff. “An akubra, maybe.”
We angle the ute so it faces away from the track, extending our line of privacy.
I kneel in the dust, knotting ropes and sorting poles.
Half hitch. Pull. Loop.
Amos holds the corners steady while I tighten each line into the ground.
The tent begins to take shape, a peak rising between us, just the inner mesh for now.
“We can add the cover later if it rains, but I doubt it will.”
I study the cloud patterns for a moment.
“Just a thin sliver of moon too, perfect for our Milky Way.”
Amos leaves the zipper open.
Such an urban lad.
“As romantic as sleeping outdoors sounds, we're not the only living creatures out here.”
I nod toward the entrance.
“So zip this baby up. Because I want you all to myself.”
“Keep the wild out, huh?”
Amos slips a hand inside my pants.
“That’s gonna get you in trouble,” I warn. “Help me make the bed.”
Mattress inflated and pillows fluffed, we tuck the sheets neatly on all sides.
“Egyptian cotton in the outback?” he laughs.
“Certain comforts are not worth parting with,” I retort playfully.
The sun sinks low toward the earth, skirting the edge.
I form a rough ring on the ground, lining it with river stones.
“Secret pagan ritual?” he asks, seemingly intrigued.
“A pagan ritual known as dinner. This is our oven.”
Stepping back, I brush the dust from my hands.
Manicure didn’t last long.
◆◆◆
Amos walks further along the track.
He unbuttons his jeans for a bathroom break.
Pants down, he whips his dick out to relieve himself.
No matter how many times I see that ass, it always… mmm.
He glances over his shoulder, one hand beneath his balls.
With a knowing smile, he bends over provocatively, taking his damn sweet time for the pleasure of his audience.
Oh you're asking for it, I vow quietly.
But I’m gonna make you wait, like a good boy.
I know how much he loves that.
My mind wanders.
I imagine all kinds of naughty things while we gather wood.
If only he knew what I used to do alone under that tree.
I was just as horny at thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen.
Used to drop my daks around my ankles right over there.
I’d lean against the trunk, seeing how far my cum could fly.
Learning what felt good, adding a finger in my butt to heighten the sensation.
And then I’d…
“Reckon we’ve got enough?” he asks, stacking a few more branches onto the pile.
They snap easily in those big strong hands.
“Yeah, that should be enough.”
◆◆◆
We snuggle next to each other on the lowered tailgate.
A row of trees along the far bank etches a silhouette across an orange sky.
Between those shadows, a furry face appears.
Then two, then three.
“You heard I was back, huh?”
I wander closer to the kangaroos.
“Yeah, I never thought I'd be back either.”
We reconnect from a distance.
My long lost friends from the cornflakes box.
I rest my shoulder against the trunk.
Roots grip deep, exposed in twisting lines of quiet endurance.
In broad daylight, this river carries traces of everything that has passed through it.
But as the sun melts into the earth, it leaves a dusky haze in its wake.
One version of Jundah merges into another.
The first, harsh and burnt.
The second, a resilient undercurrent of courage and hope.
And I sit in the space between.
◆◆◆
Colour drains from the sky, like a plug pulled by an invisible hand.
Blue fingers smudge across it, a dark canvas for all that is to follow.
It’s a curtain hush before the main event.
“You thought the stars at the lake were pretty?” I muse. “Wait for the encore.”
The first twigs catch alight, a match held between my finger and thumb.
“Let me cook for you,” I say.
It’s the least I can do for the man who held me on the side of the road today.
Wrapping six large potatoes in foil, I prick them with a fork.
A light drizzle of truffle oil, a pinch of pink salt, a dash of ground pepper.
And the final touch, a generous dusting of soft white cheddar from the chiller.
Our ice has nearly melted.
I add the rest of the cheese so it doesn't go to waste.
Firelight flickers across my face as I turn each parcel with slow attention.
Steam fogs upward when I peel the wrappers back.
The potato skin is gently crisped at the edges, fluffy and tender on the inside.
When they’ve cooled a little, I add a curl of butter and a dollop of sour cream to each.
That first bite is creamy and warm on my tongue.
So deeply satisfying.
“Yum,” Amos says with his mouth full. “That’s a damn good potato.”
“Bush tucker,” I smile. “With a city boy twist.”
“You’re starting to speak and sit differently,” he smiles. “It’s kinda cute.”
I straighten, bringing my knees closer together.
“Man-spread those legs, country boy. I think it’s hot.”
I slump again.
“And I dare you not to shave til we get home,” he winks. “Marco the lumber jack.”
“Only if you do it too,” I grin.
Pulling the swiss army knife from my pocket, I flip the blade open.
Did we remember to bring a chopping board?
“When did I start dating Macgyver?” Amos laughs.
“It’s for the melon,” I explain.
But in the back of my mind, I know the truth.
This knife is an ally of sorts.
Because what if dad takes a swing at him, not just me?
I’ll protect you if I have to.
Only a stone’s throw from here, darkness perches on the edge of a stool.
Beer on his breath, no doubt.
The slot machine, his one true love.
Still several hours to go before the pub closes its doors.
Mum will be all alone in the house.
Maybe we should… what if we went to get her now?
No.
Fear won’t steal this moment.
Tonight is ours.
So I ditch the thought quickly, scrunching the foil into a ball.
◆◆◆
It’s happening.
The gentle chirring of frogs at dusk is the opening act.
Then the first scattering of stars appear.
Only a few hours to go before we see them in all their glory.
We lay back to watch my galaxy blanket unfold across the ether.
This ancient cosmos that I’ve missed so dearly.
Still the same.
Still mine.
Now ours.
My voice is hushed, in case I scare them away.
“Even if we left right now, it’d be worth every minute to have seen this one last time.”
Amos holds out his hand, raising me to my feet.
There we stand, two souls held captive by a majestic velvet array.
And for the longest time, neither of us utter a word.
“Almost your birthday,” he whispers at last.
His lips trace their way from ear to shoulder, then meet my mouth softly.
Something about the way this man kisses me makes me burn with desire.
But beneath all that, I realise that this is the safest I’ve ever felt in this town.
Not just his protective arms around me, or the fact that I’m now grown.
It’s the way that Amos truly sees me.
The way he's taught me to see myself.
God, those words are so close on the tip of my tongue.
I love you.
I imagine saying it out loud.
You have no idea how much I love you.
“All those stars you drew in pencil in that notebook every time you missed her,” he sighs. “That kid was brave as hell. And he's still brave as hell.”
“Sometimes he's brave,” I confess. “Not always.”
A steady hand curls through my hair, just as it did the night of the storm.
“For tonight,” he says, “it's just you and me, okay? We can deal with tomorrow after sunrise.” “Just you and me,” I repeat.
Or not.
I hear a sudden rustle in the branches behind us.
A pair of yellow eyes glows in the firelight.
“Somebody has their eye on our dessert,” I grin. “Might have to take this party indoors.”
I lead a nervous Amos by the hand, scooping the fruit into my arm.
Sitting in the front seat of the ute, we spread a towel between us like a picnic blanket.
“Possums are voracious when they smell a feast. No point tempting her.”
We peer through the window as it scampers along a tree branch.
She pauses to look at us, then disappears from view.
My knife slides easily through the thick green rind.
A crisp wedge soon balances in each palm.
Juice trickles down our wrists and chins as we devour it.
I’ve never forgotten the look on my mothers face that day.
Hurrying to finish our treat before we were caught.
It was one of the few times I’ve ever heard her laugh.
The memory is bittersweet, almost overwhelming.
And now she’s within walking distance for the first time in my adult life.
Sitting here with Amos, my past and present collide gently.
“Of course you packed wet wipes,” he says. “Baby, you think of everything.”
Plan ahead. That’s my specialty.
Sadly, no amount of planning or checklists can prepare me for tomorrow.
But tonight exists outside of all that.
So I distract myself, unzipping a small suitcase on the back seat.
We gather what we need for the night.
Toothbrush, pajama shorts, tshirt, hoodie.
My darling avoids the possum tree as he brushes his teeth.
◆◆◆
After piling more wood on the fire, we shuffle inside the tent.
Zipping it closed behind us, I lay back to marvel at the sky.
A vibrant tapestry of colour is unfolding, now that it’s darker.
“Thank you Vonnie for choosing a tent with a see-through lining,” I smile.
What more could an almost-birthday boy wish for?
Galaxy views above, soft cosy sheets below.
And a handsome man for me to smooch.
I snuggle into his arms, kissing him softly on the cheek.
“To think we almost ended up in Longreach,” I sigh. “Imagine missing out on this.”
“But we didn't,” he whispers. “You kept going, bub. I'm so fucking proud of you.”
My fingers drift across warm ink-patterned skin.
“Might have chosen differently if you weren't there,” I admit.
“But I really wanted to share this with you. This part of me.”
We sink deeper into each other, my attention torn between two loves.
Amos and the heavens.
Our bodies weave together in this secret haven for two.
He holds me tight on a river bank where I once felt so alone.
Gentle fingers sweep back and forth along my wrist.
“Wish we could capture this moment and take it home with us,” I say.
“I know we have the lake, but this sky right here? It’s special to me.”
“Plenty of room in the truck,” he grins.
“And you would if you could,” I laugh. “My handsome star thief.”
We lay in silence for a moment, soaking it all in.
Then he rolls toward his satchel, returning with something in his hand.
“What are you...?”
“Hold still, my love.”
In the light of the glowing embers, he removes the cap from his pen.
Cradling my arm in one hand, he begins to draw.
His gaze moves from skin to sky.
From sky to skin.
With each stroke, a delicate replica of the Milky Way appears.
Inner elbow to wrist, it swirls.
Every line rendered with precision and patience.
Temporary beauty.
A piece of home.
I feel the heat of his body through the thin cotton of his shorts.
That feathery sensation of the pen, the way our eyes meet in such close proximity.
An unspoken intimacy burns as the tiny universe evolves.
He's so intently focused on my arm.
He doesn't notice the secret silent words I'm mouthing in the dark.
I love you.
I love you Amos Vale.
You've had my heart for almost two hundred days.
◆◆◆
Perhaps the stars never left me.
Perhaps it was me who hardened.
A protective shell to guard my heart.
Until now.
But this boy dissolves me with ease.
Why have I been such a chicken about telling him how I feel?
I'm gonna say it tonight.
Soon.
“Rest your arm across my chest while I dry the ink,” he says.
I recline on my back, hand outstretched.
Heated breath blows left to right along my skin.
My pulse quickens, not just from the arousal.
Tell him.
Come on, say it.
“Mark loved these stars,” I begin.
Amos pauses for a moment.
“He did. And so does my Marco.”
“I love… being your Marco,” I tell him.
Almost said it.
Almost.
He answers with a lingering kiss.
Smoothing a thumb across the art, he makes sure it has set.
“Now they’re yours,” he smiles.
I drown in those eyes.
Willingly, without hesitation.
“I love… them,” I reply.
His lips are tender and unyielding, eyes glassy with emotion.
“Can I tell you the most obvious thing in the world?” he whispers between kisses.
“Mmm?”
“I love you, Marco. I'm completely toast. Sometimes I say it when you’re asleep, but...”
Something inside me breaks open.
A joy that floods me entirely.
“Beautiful man, I love you too.” My voice crumbles on the last word. “More than you know.”
He closes his eyes, a look of pure ecstasy on his face.
“It's been killing me,” he sighs.
“Me too, baby. I’ve lost count of how many times I tried to… I just got scared.”
“Don’t be scared,” he whispers. “Not with me.”
Then he murmurs something that I can’t quite decipher.
It almost sounds like…
“Be my forever.”
He says it with confidence now.
“I’m yours,” I vow.
And we let our love story unfold without fear.
I melt into him, listening to the rhythm beneath his ribs.
With the tip of my finger, I draw a heart above his heartbeat.
I will never outgrow this ritual.
Even when we’re both as ancient as the moon.
It’s an Amos and Marco thing.
The night deepens around us, air cooling as the hour passes.
Eyes growing heavy, we tug the blanket to our chins.
I fight to stay awake, memorising the river of constellations above me.
Now they flow across my arm in ink, at least for a few days.
The detail in each pen stroke is stunning.
My sleepy darling is talented.
Breath slowing, I drift in and out of consciousness.
A small vibration ripples inside the satchel next to our bed.
A phone reminder.
“Must be midnight,” he says. “Happy birthday, my love.”