36
Darana
Two days later, I realize I still hate hospitals with all my heart.
No matter how many times I try to convince myself otherwise.
I couldn’t care less that the doctors were top-notch professionals, that the nurses treated me like a true queen, or that half the town showed up at my room with flowers, homemade cupcakes, “get well soon” cards, and the most absurd recommendations for curing a concussion with strange ointments.
Hospitals reek of disinfectant, bland food, and that fear that creeps into your body and won’t go away even after three showers.
That’s why, as soon as the truck devours the dirt road and I spot the sign marking the entrance to Willow Creek, my heart skips a beat.
I look out the window at the streets of our blessed, isolated Outback town beneath a sky that’s starting to clear, and I feel myself breathe again.
I’m home. Alive. Aching as if I’d been trampled by a stampede of enraged bulls, yes, but alive and kicking.
“Don’t give me that mischievous smile,” Camila says as she drives, without taking her eyes off the road.
I turn my head toward her slowly, careful not to move my immobilized shoulder, and give her my best “I didn’t do a thing” look.
“What smile? I’m not laughing.”
“Yeah, right. I’m sure you’re not plotting some stupid prank for the next five minutes.”
“Hey, detective, I’m recovering. Show some respect.”
Camila rolls her eyes and snorts, but I can clearly see her lips curving into the sexiest smile. I hold her gaze mischievously.
The aftermath of the storm is everywhere.
Eucalyptus trees still lie piled up along the edges of the dirt roads, like giants fallen in battle.
Several sheet-metal and wooden facades bear fresh scars; there are half-torn-off roofs and cracks that the neighbors are already patching up.
There are brand-new light poles, and the drainage ditches dug by Camila’s scientific team still cross the roads. But Willow Creek is still standing.
We park in front of El Colibrí, and I notice activity all around.
Farmers are hauling planks on their trailers, tractors are clearing debris from the communal watering hole, volunteers are painting the fences, and people are coming and going from the warehouse with tools.
Here, if something breaks, you don’t wait for the government to send help from the big city; you roll up your sleeves and get to work with your neighbors.
We walk into the café, and as soon as my boots clatter against the wooden floor, the place erupts in a round of applause that gives me goosebumps.
“Look who’s flown the nest!” shouts a guy at the bar, a midmorning beer in his hand.
“The toughest woman in Birdsong Hills!” adds another, tipping his hat.
Laughter fills the room. I snort, feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment, but I enjoy the attention.
“I love you guys too, you bunch of drunks!” I shout back, waving my good arm in a gesture worthy of a Hollywood star.
“Bullshit!” Ricky yells at me from a table in the back, raising a cup of coffee. “You’ve worked me to the bone!”
“Well, almost everyone,” I correct myself, winking at him as the café erupts in laughter once more.
Christian and Lily are behind the counter, waving at us like crazy. As soon as I make my way over to them at a snail’s pace, Lily stares at the bandage peeking out from under my hat and opens her mouth so wide I’m afraid her jaw will pop out of place.
“Holy cow. You look like a road map with all those patches.”
“You’re exaggerating. I’m as good as new,” I tell her, plopping down on a barstool with a dull groan that Camila catches immediately. “Scars have a certain morbid charm. I look like the heroine of a biker movie, don’t I?” I add with a cheeky wink.
“No matter what you look like, you’re grounded,” Camila replies, sitting down next to me.
A delightful shiver runs down my spine. Her warmth feels so damn comforting that I press my leg against hers on purpose, openly defying her.
She doesn’t pull away. On the contrary, she presses a little harder as the two of them set down two cups of piping-hot black coffee and some slices of meatloaf that smell like heaven in front of us.
For fifteen minutes, the group talks about broken perimeter fences, livestock losses, and insurance. Topics that would normally make me yawn, but today they come in handy for hiding the fact that my eyes are glued to the neckline of Camila’s shirt.
“You’re not going to lift a single finger, Calloway,” she blurts out suddenly, crossing her silverware on her plate and giving me that know-it-all look.
I look her up and down, licking my lips.
“Try to make me, sweetheart. Let’s see how you handle it.”
Under the table, I reach out with my good hand and give her a playful slap on the thigh.
Camila stares at me with eyes as wide as saucers, her indignation so feigned that I feel like kissing her right here.
“Are you laughing at the doctor’s orders right to my face?!”
“The doctor’s, yours, and anyone else’s who tries to lock me in a room.”
“Darana…” she warns me, but I can clearly hear her breath catch. She’s just as into this as I am.
“I’m perfectly fine, really. It was just a scratch.”
“You had a concussion, and it was a miracle I got you out before the stable turned into your coffin,” she blurts out, and suddenly the pretense vanishes from her eyes.
I reach for her hand under the table, intertwining my fingers with hers and rubbing her skin with my thumb to calm her pulse.
“And here I am, Bennet,” I whisper. “In one piece, talking your ear off, and dying to argue with you a little more. Doesn’t that sound like a pretty sweet deal?”
Camila bites her lower lip, torn between the urge to slap me for being reckless and the urge to kiss me. Lily brings her hands to her chest, sighing like a teenager.
“Please, I beg you, get yourselves a hotel.”
We all laugh, playing it down, and the warmth of Camila’s touch stays with me the entire way back home.
By midafternoon, no matter how much she shouts herself hoarse telling me I can only “supervise,” there’s no way to keep me sitting still in a chair.
I end up down by the river, where the damage has been severe.
The floods have left behind a thick quagmire, but the men from Birdsong Hills are giving it their all.
I see Ricky driving the tractor, Bert walking awkwardly on crutches and leaning on whatever he can find, but still shouting instructions to three kids about how to align a hinge, and even Joyce handing out cups of tea.
This stretch of desert is my life. It’s not just the acres or the cattle or the horses; it’s these people. The ones who supported me when I lost my family and who are now standing tall and facing the aftermath of the storm head-on.
“Camila, pass me that box of bolts from the truck, come on,” I ask, knowing I’m in for it.
She walks over quickly, furrowing that cute little brow of hers whenever she’s angry.
“You should be sitting in the shade, Darana.”
“If I sit still, my mind will just keep racing, and I don’t feel like dealing with that,” I confess in a whisper, looking her straight in the eye as the evening sun begins to tint the mud a beautiful golden color. “And thinking about how close I came to never seeing you again… it turns my stomach.”
“That’s exactly why I want you to take care of yourself,” she replies. “I don’t think my heart could take another scare.”
My heart leaps wildly. This woman has me completely wrapped around her finger, and she doesn’t even realize it.
As night falls, I return physically exhausted. Muscles I didn’t even know existed in the human body ache, the gash on my forehead throbs like a drum, and my shoulder protests with every step, but I feel outrageously happy. I take a quick shower as best I can and head over to Camila’s cabin.
I find her sitting on the small wooden porch, a mug in her hands and her gaze lost in the starry sky, which is a true spectacle.
I stand for a few seconds, leaning against the post at the entrance and watching her in silence.
She looks gorgeous with her hair slightly tousled and one of my old denim shirts that’s a little too big for her but looks absolutely stunning on her.
“Can I come in, or does the scientist restrict access to wounded civilians?” I ask with a wry smile.
Camila turns her head, and her eyes sparkle in the dim light. She smiles with a sweetness that melts me.
“The door’s always open for you, Calloway.”
I settle down next to her on the small sofa in the living room. It smells of strong coffee, clean wood, and that deeply personal perfume of hers that’s etched into my memory.
“I guess as soon as you finish the reports and pack up your stuff… you’ll be out of here, right?”
Camila’s smile vanishes in an instant. I can tell right away because her jaw tenses.
I know she’s been dodging the subject all day: that damned “afterward.” What happens when the desert calms down, the Meteorological Institute calls her back, and she decides to go back to chasing storms across Australia and around the world.
She sets her cup down on the coffee table.
“I don’t feel like talking about that right now, Darana. Please.”
I lower my gaze, clenching my teeth, but I’m not going to back down. I’m a Calloway, for heaven’s sake.
“Yeah, okay. But you know full well that sooner or later, we’ll have to lay our cards on the table. I can’t pretend nothing’s happening while I count down the days until you climb aboard Viento and drive off.”
She lets out a snort.
“It’s just been such a damn nightmare! Seeing you in that hospital bed, pale, with your face all bruised, and thinking you might die… I’m not ready to process anything else. My head is completely overwhelmed with thoughts of you.”
Camila reaches out, grabs the back of my neck, and forces me to look at her, just a few inches from her lips.
“Do you want to know what the hell I’ve been thinking about every second since you came into the ER?” she blurts out, trembling. “That you’re here. That I can touch you, that you’re alive and getting on my nerves like always.”
“Camila…” I manage to say.
“Shut up and listen to me,” she cuts me off, and seeing a stray tear roll down her cheek completely throws me off balance.
“When I walked in there and saw the building collapse, I felt like life was ripping my soul out of me all over again. I thought I was too late. That I’d lose you forever without ever having told you how I feel. ”
The air between us turns to fire.
“But you haven’t lost me,” I reply, leaning in and pressing my forehead against hers, feeling her breath. “I’m here. And stronger than ever.”
“I know, but the fear is deep in my bones. I close my eyes, and all I hear is the sound of wood crashing down on you…”
“Well, open them and look at me,” I demand in a mischievous tone, brushing my lips against hers in a slow, teasing dance that makes her moan. “I had no intention of crossing over to the other side either. I have way too many plans with you.”
“Oh, really? Like what, smarty-pants?” she teases, raising an eyebrow.
“Like driving you crazy every time you come around here. Breakfast included, of course.”
Camila lets out a beautiful, breathy laugh that brings me completely back to life.
“You’re unbearable, Darana Calloway. Seriously.”
“I’m your ‘unbearable.’ And I’m not going to let you leave without putting up the fight of my life,” I whisper, pinning her against the back of the sofa. “What if I ask you to stay? To choose this desert?”
Camila falls silent for a few moments, devouring me with her gaze and biting her lower lip with an indecision that burns my insides.
“It’s not that easy. My job is my life… storms are my world,” she murmurs, though her hands grip my waist tightly. “But you… God, Darana, you make me want to tell every radar on the planet to go to hell.”
I press my lips against hers, closing the distance, and kiss her. She responds with a force that makes me forget all the pain in my body, moaning against my lips and clinging to me as if I were her only lifeline.