Red Dirt Heart 3 (11 page)

Ma’s blinks were getting longer. “I might just have a sandwich and a cup of tea later. I’m not that hungry.”

“Okay,” I whispered. “George? What about you?” He was about to protest, but I added, “That way you won’t have to leave.”

He nodded. “That’d be good, thanks Charlie.”

“We’ll be back,” I told George. Ma was already asleep. I pulled Travis by the arm and it took every ounce of will power I had not to run as fast as I could out of the hospital.

* * * *

“God, that was awful,” I said, finally breathing in fresh air. “Fucking hospitals.”

Trav rubbed my arm. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just a bit of a shock, ya know?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know.” He took the keys. “Come on, I’ll drive.”

We climbed into the ute and Travis drove, only mumbling under his breath once or twice about what side of the road he was on. I thought we were headed to find something to eat, but he pulled up at a pet store.

“What are we doing?”

“You’ll see,” was all he said as he was getting out.

I followed him into the pet shop, past the puppies, fish and birds down to the kennels and produce. When he stopped at cat beds, I shook my head. “Oh, no no no. We’re not getting a cat. We used to have one, it lived in the shed and the bloody thing was feral.”

He didn’t even look at me. “It’s not for a cat, Charlie.” He picked up a cushion-box looking thing with a hole in the front. “It’s for your damn wombat.”

“Oh,” I said brightly. “Well, that’s okay then.”

He pushed Nugget’s new bed into my chest. “So he sleeps in
his
bed, not ours.”

A sales guy, about eighteen years old, walked up and was looking at us funny. He probably just heard what Travis said, and I didn’t care. I just shrugged, guessin’ that I’d come a long way in the last six months. “How did I know he’d think it was playtime?”

Travis sighed and turned to the sales assistant. “Do you have any feed pellets for wombats?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Wombats?”

I nodded. “Yep, you know, ’bout this big”—I held up my hands to show him—“shape of a brick, cute little thing.”

Travis took a God-fucking-help-me breath. “About a year old, pain in the arse, stubborn as hell, gets into everything type of wombat.”

The poor kid blinked. “Um, well, we have pellets for rabbits and guinea pigs, kangaroos…” he said, walking in what I assumed was the direction of what we were after.

After I used my phone to Google what the hell kind of pellets wombats should eat, we bought a bag of pellets, some maize and some bedding hay.

We took it straight back to the motel and watched as the little wombat sniffed around his new bed, not too impressed by any of it. Trav threw his blanket and rumble-bear in there, and then he threw Nugget in there as well.

Once he’d figured out how to get in and out of it, he loved it. It was like a dark and cosy wombat hole. We fed him some apple and added a few pellets and bits of hay, and then we left him doing jumpy, burn out circle work on the carpet.

When we got back into the ute this time, I was smiling. I reached over and took Trav’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “Thank you.”

He smiled, all smug and knowing, like it was his plan all along to make me forget about Ma, even just for a little while.

“Now, we’ll go and find some human food,” he said. “And flowers for Ma, and we better make sure she has some of her favourite brand of tea.”

I looked at him and smiled. “You’re kind of wonderful, you know that?”

“You can thank me later,” he said, starting the engine.

“Oh, I plan to.”

“Twice.”

“Deal.”

* * * *

Because we couldn’t decide which flowers she’d have liked—I said the yellow ones with the ‘You’re a Star’ balloons, and Travis said the pink ones with ‘Get Well Soon’ balloons—and because people in the supermarket were starting to stare at us as we argued, we ended up getting both.

I know she liked mine better, she just said she loved them both the same, just so it wouldn’t hurt Travis’s feelings.

We took some barbeque chicken, chips and salad for George, and even Ma ate a little. She was still dozing on and off by then. They’d given her some drug that helped with pain and made her sleepy, George told us.

So we stayed for a while, made sure she was comfortable and made sure George ate something, then we said goodnight, promising to be back first thing in the morning.

* * * *

I loved a lot of things about Travis, but at the top of that list right now was how he gave me thinkin’-time silence. Ma and George both knew sometimes I just needed thinkin’ space and a little time to get thoughts right in my head. Maybe Travis learned from them, maybe he just knew me well enough, but when we got back to the motel, even despite the antics of a happy-to-see-us but give-me-all-the-attention baby wombat, Trav didn’t push me to talk.

He knew I would. He just knew I needed time.

He fed Nugget some more pellets and cleaned up after him, while I lay on the bed, starin’ at the ceiling. It was an awful reminder of the brevity of life, seeing someone you love be so sick. All the what-if’s weighed in, adding to the mass of guilt for not makin’ Ma see a doctor when we all knew she wasn’t well. So what if she’d yelled at us, or gave us the silent treatment for taking her to get a check up? Bein’ full-named and cussed at would be a walk in the park compared to seeing her where she is now.

My phone interrupted my thoughts, and I sighed when Greg’s name scrolled across my screen. I assumed he’d just read the email I sent him, telling him my farm was bein’ manned by my staff alone. Sure, there’d been times when I was away or George, but never both at the same time.

So Trav would know who I was talking to, I answered the call. “Greg.”

“Hey, Charlie, what’s up?”

“George, me and Trav are all in town,” I told him. “I told the guys back at the farm if it was an emergency to give you a call. Hope you don’t mind, but you’d be quicker flying than me driving.”

“’S no problem,” he said. “Anything the matter?”

“It’s Ma,” I said. “She’s not well.”

“Oh, man.”

“We’ll know more tomorrow. The oncologist is running tests.” I swallowed hard. “But they’re optimistic.”

I guess the word ‘oncologist’ told him all he needed to know. “Oh, Jesus. Charlie, I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.

“I don’t know how long we’ll be away for,” I said. But I told him I’d send him a quick email when we were home, and if he needed me to look over any details of reports or whatnot, just to send it along and I’d look at it when I could.

When I’d clicked off the call, before I put my phone down, I called home. I didn’t even know if anyone would be in the homestead—it was a little after dinner time—but luckily Trudy answered the phone.

Travis took my boots off while I told her all I knew about Ma and that I’d let them know what the doctor said tomorrow. “How are you feeling?” I asked. Then, realizing I didn’t know if I was supposed to know she wasn’t feeling well—Travis had told me, not Trudy—I squeezed the bridge of my nose and added, “You weren’t too well apparently.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, a little too quickly and a little bit snappy.

If I ever understood one thing about women, about Outback women, it was that they didn’t like being fussed over. Well, they didn’t like us to think they weren’t strong enough to handle anything they were dealin’ with. Even if, just like Ma, it landed them in hospital.

I made a promise to myself that I’d make a doctor’s appointment for Trudy myself if I had to, but bein’ so far away and with them out there on their own, I left it alone. For now. I sighed. “Okay. I’ll call tomorrow.”

I disconnected the call, threw my phone onto the bed and dug the heels of my hands into my eye sockets.

The foot of the bed dipped, and I could feel Travis crawl up my body without even moving my hands from my eyes. He lay on me, his legs between mine, his weight on top of me feeling so damn good, and peeled my hands away. The look on his face was one of concern and so much fucking love. “You okay?”

I smiled despite my mood. “I have you. I will always be okay.”

He closed his eyes and kissed me softly, as though my words soothed him, pleased him.

“How’s Nugget?” I asked.

“Asleep.”

“Greg was worried, and I think I pissed Trudy off,” I said.

Trav shook his head. “Stop worrying about everyone else. Just for tonight.” He leaned up on his elbow and touched my face—soft thumbs traced lines and long fingers tracked through my hair. He scanned my features, and when his eyes finally met mine again, they were warm and deep. “I want to take care of you tonight,” he whispered, kissing me again. “Will you let me?”

Normally I took control. I always saw to his pleasure before my own, whether we fucked hard or made love. I wanted him to know I would put him first, his needs before mine, in everything I did.

But tonight it would be different.

I didn’t know what he meant by ‘take care of me’, whether he would just make me come or he would top me. And I realised it didn’t matter. I’d let him do either—or both. I cupped my hand to his face, and before I pulled him in for a kiss, I nodded.

He kissed me deeper, tasting me, tilting my head so he could kiss me deeper still. It made my head spin, and my blood warmed through, and when he ended the kiss with a nudge of his nose, all coherent thoughts scattered.

I let him have his way with me. I couldn’t have stopped him, even if I’d wanted to. My body wouldn’t have let me. Along every inch of skin, every nerve ending, he was all sure hands and strong mouth. And when he cleaned me and prepped me, all gentle fingers and warm breath, I wanted it.

I’d never wanted anything more.

Travis lay me on my back with my legs open, and he gently pushed my knees up to my chest as he leaned down and kissed me. He kept his eyes open, watching me for what, I didn’t know. Pain? Doubt?

There was neither.

I gave myself to the sensation of being penetrated. Every cell, every synapse in my brain belonged to Travis as he pushed inside me. Slowly, he filled me, and I revelled in the stretch, the feeling of being joined with him—being one with him. He touched my face and held my hand; he kissed my lips, my jaw, my neck.

He made me lose myself. With every thrust, with every groan, he made the world disappear, he made everything but us disappear. He made me his.

Travis leaned up on one hand, taking my cock in his other, and he pumped and squeezed, thrusting and stroking me to orgasm. My whole body flexed as I came, shooting thick between us, and Travis let go of my cock to hold me, burying his face in my neck as waves of aftershocks tore through me. I’d never come like that before—so hard, so intense.

I’d never felt so loved.

It was only then that Trav let himself go. He held my face, kissing me hard, so hard, as he thrust into me until he came.

Travis had always said sex was better without condoms. I usually topped, and I agreed with him. It was better. But feeling him come inside me was something else.

It was more than just a convenience and more than extra sensitivity. It was a freedom, a complete giving. A statement that said “yours forever”.

It felt like a gift.

Travis didn’t move until he slid out of me. “Do you want a shower?” he murmured.

I was sticky, slicked in lube and could feel his cum in my arse, but I shook my head. “No.” My voice was a mix of croak and groan.

“Do you feel okay?” he asked, sounding alarmed. “Are you sore?”

I snorted at that and rolled onto my stomach. “Yes, I feel okay. No, I’m not sore. I want you to do it again,” I told him. I lifted my hips off the mattress, raising my arse. “Just like this. You, on top of me.”

He chuckled and kissed my shoulder. “I might need a few minutes.”

Spreading my knees a little, I raised my hips even more, slipped my hand beneath myself and started to jerk myself in long, languid strokes. “I’ll start without you.”

He groaned out a laugh and manoeuvred himself between my thighs. I could feel the weight of his balls on my arse as he started to pull on his own cock. It wasn’t long until he leaned over me, one hand beside my head, the other guiding his cock into my hole. His voice was hot and gruff in my ear. “You won’t start anything without me.”

He slid in easily, every fucking inch of him, and he kissed the back of my neck, the shell of my ear, the skin along my shoulder. He pressed his full body weight on my back and wrapped his hands around my fists, and I asked him to fuck me, harder, deeper, faster.

So he did.

I wanted Travis to have me, to take me, to make me his. I wanted to give him what he gave me, and I wanted him to know I belonged only to him. He grunted and groaned in my ear, fucking me until he came in my arse one more time.

He collapsed on top of me, inside of me, breathing my name over and over. I was sore, sated and smiling. “Jesus,” he mumbled, kissing the back of my neck. He pulled out of me slowly and got off the bed. I heard the shower turn on next, and then he was pulling me off the bed and dragging me to the bathroom.

The water was steaming hot over my tired muscles, and Travis soaped me up and washed me down. He never stopped touching me: soft hands, soft kisses. There was a quiet reverence in the way he took care of me, how he stood under the spray of water with me, how he kissed me.

He held my face in both hands, and his eyes were closed, his lips barely moved against mine in an almost kiss. He nudged my nose with his, making my knees go weak, and I chuckled. “It still gets me,” I whispered.

Travis opened his eyes slowly, as if he was drunk and completely unaware of what he’d done. “What gets you?”

“You and your nose nudges,” I answered. “I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of it.”

Smiling, he shut the water off. We dried off, got dressed and Travis ordered Chinese for dinner. With a full stomach, I crawled into bed, content and sleepy.

I fell asleep wrapped up in Travis with him tracing circles on my back. I dreamt of blue eyes, smug smiles and Southern drawls, and even in my dreamin’ sleep, I’d never felt so loved.