Page 35 of Free Wind (Lifeguards of Barking Beach #2)

As they turned back on the two-lane Great Southern Highway after lunch in Katanning, Damo asked, “What?”

Blake set the cruise control and glanced at Damo in the passenger seat. “Hmm?” He pushed up the visor now that the sky was clouded over.

“Whatcha smiling about?”

He hadn’t realized he was, but sure enough, Blake was grinning. “Just happy. I love it when a plan comes together.”

They were meeting Tasha, Tony, and Cooper in Bremer Bay to go whale watching, Damo was beside him, and the meat pie from the cafe in Katanning had filled his belly. They were making good time and would arrive at the hotel by five p.m.

Tick, tick, tick, tick. All the boxes were being checked off. He turned off the highway onto Broomehill-Gnowangerup Road and put on another classic rock playlist.

On the screen, a text from his mum appeared, but he ignored it, and the notification disappeared. He’d woken for work at three-thirty the morning after their video chat to find a screen of anxious messages from Mum.

She’d always been an early riser, so that wasn’t particularly unusual. None of the messages were apologies—just her Wordle score and mundane notes about a new liquor supplier, his brother Adam’s upcoming birthday, and a few links about news she thought he’d be interested in.

And this was the way it went. Things would get awkward or tense or even angry, and they’d go on as though it hadn’t happened.

Blake had been tempted to ignore the messages or reply that no, all was not forgiven, but in the end, he’d given most of the messages a thumbs-up and had sent his Wordle score later that day.

He’d made her wait hours, which was a petty rebellion.

Blake knew the day would come—and soon—that he told his parents exactly what he thought and how he felt, but with Damo beside him and “Carry On Wayward Son” playing, today wasn’t that day.

They passed a ute coming west on the two-lane paved road, and as time passed, there was no one else as far as the eye could see over wheat fields and sheep farms with clusters of gum trees.

Damo tapped his bare foot against the dash. He never seemed to sit up straight in a chair, either curling or slouching and often propping up a foot.

“What’re ya smiling about now?” Damo asked.

“Thinking about how cute you are.”

Damo scoffed, then squirmed adorably. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and he fiddled with it. “You’re pretty cute too.”

“Though you know that if we get in an accident, you’re going to snap your leg having your foot up like that.”

Sighing, Damo lowered his foot and crossed it over his knee. “You’re right.”

Had that been too…lecture-y? “Sorry. Don’t mean to be a killjoy.”

Damo seemed taken aback. “You’re not. You’re looking out for me. I like it.”

“Yeah?” Blake gave him a smile.

“Yeah.” Damo smiled back sweetly, though there was a flirty twinkle in his eye. “I like it a lot. Oi, eyes on the road or we will have an accident.”

A text flashed up on the screen on the console, and Blake tapped it. The automated voice read the message from Tash:

We’re here! Made a reservation for all of us for dinner in the hotel at six. Btw, it calls itself a resort, but this is a glorified pub with a motel attached. Seems clean and friendly, though.

Blake dictated a response saying that was all good, and then Tash sent another message:

Coop says hi.

Blake’s chest tightened. Those three words were momentous.

“Good sign, hey?” Damo said.

“Yeah. What should I say back?”

“Dunno. Don’t overthink it.”

“I’d never!” Blake gasped in mock affront.

Damo laughed. “Nah, wouldn’t dream of it.”

He quickly dictated a reply—even though he’d have preferred to think about it a bit more—saying he missed Cooper too and couldn’t wait to see him again. Then he sent a follow-up, asking if Rosie was doing okay back in Freo with Tony’s parents.

“There you go,” Blake said. “I’m living on the edge. Speaking of which, how are you enjoying getting out of Barking?” He had the impression Damo didn’t leave often.

“Love it. You can see forever.”

“You never wanted to travel? Take a gap year?”

“Sure. Some of my high school mates spent six months in Bali.”

Blake waited, then asked, “Why didn’t you?”

“Couldn’t. I… I had work.” Damo shrugged but didn’t elaborate. His foot jiggled, and he tapped the console screen as Tasha’s reply appeared. The automated voice read:

Rosie was gutted when we left, but she’s being distracted by lollies and going to Barking Beach again.

“No better place,” Damo said proudly.

“Where do you go for holidays when you already live in such a great spot? Did your parents take you anywhere?”

Damo shrugged, but it was tense. “When I was a kid, we went to the Gold Coast and Brissie. Surfers Paradise was my fave, obviously.”

“Of course.”

“Tabby was little, and she loved Australia Zoo. Feeding the kangaroos and all that. I loved it too.”

“How old is she now?”

“Thirteen going on thirty-five.” Damo smiled tightly.

“What do your parents do? You’ve never really mentioned them.”

Damo tapped his foot. “Mum’s a nurse. Dad was a brickie, but he’s been off work.” Sitting up straight, he pointed through the windscreen. “Gettin’ hilly out there.”

Blake still wasn’t sure what the deal was with Damo’s family and had a lot more questions, but he went with the topic change. “Stirling Ranges, I think? Reminds me of home.”

That thought prompted another—and Blake looked at the fuel gauge.

Belatedly.

A quarter tank. Shit. He should have filled up in Katanning, but it hadn’t even crossed his mind. How had he not thought about it? Christ, he was beyond stupid!

“Fuck,” he mumbled. At Damo’s questioning glance, Blake confessed, “We should have filled up when we had lunch.” Why hadn’t he made a checklist for the journey? He should’ve mapped it all out.

Blake’s gaze flicked from the empty road to the car’s estimation of how many kilometers the fuel would take them:

175

Then he tapped the console screen to return from messages to the map, heart in his throat as he read the GPS distance remaining:

173

“Fuck.” He read the numbers to Damo, bracing for his reaction. God, Blake was so stupid! How could he have not thought about going to a petrol station in the only big town they’d passed through in hours?

Somehow, Damo…laughed? “Cuttin’ it close, hey?”

“Way too close! What if something happens? We’ll run out of petrol!”

“We’ll be right.”

“But… We barely have enough. We could seriously run out.”

Damo shrugged—an easy, loose movement now—and gave Blake a smile. “No dramas. It’ll work out.”

“We haven’t passed another vehicle since that ute. If we run out of petrol, we’ll be stranded out here.” He cringed to imagine what his dad would say. That he’d taught Blake better than that, for starters. Then Mum would chime in about—

Stop! They’re not here. And they don’t know everything.

“Someone’ll come along.”

Blake gripped the wheel, his gaze now flicking constantly between the road, the car’s fuel estimate, and the GPS estimate. “It’ll be dark in a couple of hours. Days are getting shorter. Maybe we should go back to Katanning.”

“That’ll add on more than an hour. We’ll be late for dinner. It says we have enough.”

He really didn’t want to be late. Obviously, he could explain why to Tasha and Tony—but that wouldn’t exactly speak highly of his responsible adultness, would it?

“We’ll be right,” Damo repeated. He was slouched again, his other foot crossed over his knee.

“But… I’m a moron! You’re not pissed at me?”

Damo frowned. “What? It’s not your fault. I didn’t think about it either.”

“I’m the driver. And I know better! I grew up in the bush. I know how isolated it gets. How did it not even cross my mind?”

“Even country boys make mistakes.” Damo pressed his hand on Blake’s thigh, fingertips brushing the skin under the hem of his long shorts. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not! I’m putting you in danger.” Every muscle in Blake’s body was tensed, his knuckles white on the wheel.

“Maaaate. Come on. It says we have enough to get there. Tasha and Tony know we’re coming. And there’s gotta be a petrol station somewhere.”

“There really doesn’t, though. You don’t know the outback.”

“I’ll check.” Damo pulled out his phone and tapped it. After a moment, he muttered, “Crap. No signal.”

Blake missed the warmth of Damo’s hand on his thigh. Heart thudding, he tried the GPS on the car’s screen. Nothing. The map was still showing their route, but it had obviously downloaded it earlier. There was no signal for any new searches.

“Look!” Damo pointed to a sign down the road. “Food and fuel in Gnowangerup. See? We’ll be sweet.”

Blake exhaled sharply. “Oh, thank god. I still can’t believe I did that.”

“We all stuff up sometimes.”

“But—”

As they drove into Gnowangerup, a town clustered around the one main road, the petrol station appeared.

As did the signs proclaiming it now closed.

“All right,” Damo said. “It won’t be as cruisey getting to Bremer, but we’re fine.”

Blake searched the other buildings as they passed. Most shops were closed down, and they didn’t see anyone except a lone little boy riding his bike. He had to be about Cooper’s age. Blake was struck with a stab of shame. He was a father now, and he couldn’t even handle filling up with petrol!

They drove on in silence. He wasn’t sure when they’d paused the music, but it didn’t feel right putting it back on now. Blake’s eyes flicked over what was now his holy trinity until they reached Bremer Bay: the road, the mileage, the GPS estimate.

“You’re really freaking out,” Damo said.

“How are you not?”

“We’re riding the wave. Either it’s gonna smoke us, or we’ll shoot out the barrel. Won’t know ’til the end.”

Blake forced an exhale and found a fond smile tugging his lips. “Zen looks good on you.”

“Yeah?” Damo waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh, yeah. From the first time I saw you on Barking. Laughing with your red sunnies on. Zen surfer dude.”