Page 41 of Free Wind (Lifeguards of Barking Beach #2)

The ambulance sat in front of a small house with a faded, rickety blue porch. Blake could imagine the yellow towel hanging there, telling little Damo it was time to come home for dinner. Back then, perhaps the garden had been tended and not overgrown with dried husks of plants.

Blake had barely come to a stop behind the ambulance when Damo flew out of the passenger seat. He disappeared inside so quickly Blake had to blink and take a second look. With no idea what was happening, he had to make sure it was safe.

“Can you wait in the car?” he asked Coop. “Come sit up front. I’ll leave the keys so you can control the window.” Wait, was that dangerous?

Was it the wrong thing to do? With the windows up, it would be too hot in minutes, but with the keys, what if someone tried to steal the car with Coop in it? Or what if someone tried to kidnap him?

“Actually, no,” Blake said. “Come with me.”

Neighbors were gathering to gawk, though none approached the house. The wood door was the same faded, peeling blue of the porch and stood ajar. Blake pushed it open cautiously and called, “Damo?”

Stepping into the tile foyer, he was aware of shouting from deeper in the house to the left. To the right, a barefoot young girl in a footy uniform who had to be Tabby sniffled and frowned at him from the living room, which was crowded with a dining table covered in stuff.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“I’m Blake. I’m—I know Damo.”

“Oh. Are you a lifeguard?”

“No. I’m a garbo.”

“Ew!” She scrunched up her red face. “Doesn’t it stink?”

“Uh, sometimes.” Blake stood there uselessly looking at Tabby while raised voices pulsed through the house. He belatedly added, “I’m a clubbie too. I met Damo at the beach. This is my son, Cooper.”

Tabby crossed her arms and muttered, “Sure, whatever.”

Blake’s gaze flicked over open boxes, stacks of flyers, a few water bottles, a purse, an empty flowerpot, textbooks, a dirty plate, a footy uniform slung over a chair.

Still in the doorway, Coop said, “Garbo’s an awesome job!”

Tabby rolled her eyes. “If you say so, kid. Like I care.”

Seeing the nosy neighbors staring, Blake ushered Cooper a few steps in, and Coop asked, “What’s going on? Why is the ambo here?”

“For my dad,” Tabby muttered, her jaw tight, fingers twitching into fists.

“I’m sorry your dad’s sick,” Cooper said quietly.

She snapped, “I don’t care if he’s sick. He’s always sick. I don’t care!”

“Oh,” Coop mumbled. “Okay. Where’s Damo?”

“Look, let’s, uh…” Blake had to take control of the situation. “Coop, can you stay here with Tabby?”

“How do you know my name?” she demanded.

“Damo’s really cool,” Coop said to Tabby.

“I know!” Her eyes narrowed. “Wait, how do you know my brother again?”

“He came with us to Bremer Bay,” Coop said.

“Why would he go away with you?”

Blake held up his hands. “Okay, let’s take a breath.” Tabby’s face was going redder, and the last thing anyone needed was for her to start yelling.

But an instant later, fresh tears filled her bleary eyes. “Why didn’t I get to go?”

“I’m sure Damo wanted you to come!” Cooper said, clearly eager to soothe her hurt feelings in a way that made Blake so proud. “But I have this week off school. You probably had to go to school, right?”

Tabby whirled around, her thin shoulders shaking. Blake squeezed Coop’s shoulder and whispered, “Can you wait by the door? Don’t go outside.”

He nodded solemnly, shooting a worried glance toward Tabby. Blake approached her and cleared his throat.

“I’m really sorry you couldn’t come with us. What happened with your dad?”

Sniffing loudly, her back to him, she motioned violently toward the other side of the house.

Passing an eighties-style kitchen with dishes piled up in the sink, Blake followed the sound of shouting down a hallway to the bedroom at the end. Pausing in the doorway of the bedroom, he took in the scene.

Two female paramedics crouched beside a man on the floor by the bed. One of them said sternly, “Rod. You need to calm down. We’re here to help you, mate.”

“Fucking bitch!” The man—Rod, who had to be Damo’s father—gripped her arm with what seemed to be surprising strength as she gasped.

“Dad!” Damo wrenched his father’s fingers free, and the woman stood and backed away.

The other paramedic was on her radio, asking for backup for a violent patient, and it was chaos as Rod punched wildly in the low light of the musty room. Blake wanted to charge in and pull Damo to safety, but the paramedics were blocking the door.

The blinds were drawn against the daylight, the room lit only by a muted TV and a weak lamp on the side table. The table was crammed with an ashtray, an empty plate with crumbs on it, and lollie wrappers: Red Frogs and Minties. There was faded carpet on the floor.

Before Blake could call to Damo and do something to help, footsteps approached behind him.

Two cops filled the hall. Though the young men were likely average sized, their presence seemed huge somehow with their blue uniforms, shiny badges, hats with white and blue checkered stripes, and big utility belts holding radios, handcuffs, tasers, a few other things Blake couldn’t recognize.

And, of course, their guns. He squeezed against the wall to let them pass.

He heard Damo ask, “You right? Did he hurt you? I’m so sorry. Fuck.”

The older woman said, “We’re good, darl. Not your fault.” Beyond the cops, Blake glimpsed her squatting down again next to Damo’s father. “Rod, we’re here to help you. You’ve had a fall, and you caught the back of your head on the dresser.”

“Think I don’t fuckin’ know that, you stupid cow?” He lashed out with his arm, but the movement was weak this time.

“You’re not helping anything,” one of the cops said, looming over Rod. Blake couldn’t imagine the cops would help either, but he didn’t blame the paramedics for requesting backup.

“We need room to work,” the other paramedic said, one of the cops backing out of the doorway and motioning for Blake to move.

He returned to the foyer just as a harried woman in scrubs who had to be Damo’s mum burst in, skidding to a stop in her Crocs and staring at him, then Cooper, who’d dodged the opening door.

She looked down the hall toward the bedroom, then turned back and said to Tabby, “Tell your friend to go home.”

“Mum, I’m almost fourteen! He’s not my bloody friend,” Tabby shouted, swiping her eyes with staccato movements. “Damo knows them.”

Frowning, Damo’s mum asked Blake, “I’m sorry, who are you?”

God, he hated lying in front of Cooper, who looked at him in clear confusion. “Blake. I’m a mate of Damo’s. And this is my son.”

How odd to say those words aloud. Weeks ago, he hadn’t even known his son existed, and Damo had been his fun beach crush. Now, he and Cooper were inside Damo’s house in the thick of a crisis he could only begin to understand.

He added, “I’m sorry. We were—”

Damo’s mum—Blake realized he didn’t know her name—was already brushing past him, and he didn’t finish his sentence since he didn’t know what to say. He followed her without conscious thought, drawn back toward Damo.

He had to see him. Had to hold him and tell him it was all right. He felt the way he had watching Damo struggle with the panicking Irish patient. He had to do something to make it better.

But there were already too many people crowding the back bedroom, and he could hear Damo’s mum’s voice rise. As much as he wanted to help Damo, he needed to get Cooper away from this stressful, terrible situation and safely back to Tasha and Tony. He’d text Damo that he’d be back very soon.

Turning, he glimpsed a small bedroom through an open door. A twin bed with messy covers sat in the corner under a window. Damo had mentioned he was messy, and the evidence sat right in front of Blake.

Clothes were piled on the floor with two blue lifeguard shirts on top. He went inside, automatically picking up the laundry. That was something he could do! That would help, wouldn’t it? Damo had said Blake was welcome to clean up after him when Blake had told him about the issues with Lance.

Was there a laundry bag? He could get Cooper out of here and still help from afar. He’d bring the clothes back later, washed and pressed, and Damo would have one less thing to worry about.

A Macca’s cup and empty McSpicy wrapper sat on the carpeted floor by a video game controller, an old TV sitting on a dresser under a tacked-up poster of Stephanie Gilmore in a bikini holding her surfboard. Her windswept blonde hair was actually quite similar to Damo’s.

“What are you doing in here?”

Gripping the haphazard pile of clothing, Blake turned at Damo’s ragged question. “I was just—these are dirty, and—”

He glanced down the hall. “You can’t be here! I thought you were gone!”

That felt like a slap. “Of course I’m here. I wasn’t about to just drive away and leave you.”

Damo’s beautiful eyes glistened with tears. “I don’t want you to see this.”

“It’s okay. You told me about your dad. I wasn’t going to just leave.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Damo shook his head. “It was one thing to tell you! Telling and, and, seeing aren’t the same. I never wanted you to see this! To see how we live.”

“Baby, I want to help.” He clutched the clothing, desperate to pull Damo into his arms but not wanting to make everything worse somehow.

Rubbing his red face, Damo laughed brokenly, and Blake’s heart squeezed. “You must be regretting it.” He grabbed the laundry, and his uniform shirts fell to the carpet. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Fuck!”

Another paramedic, a dark-haired man this time, appeared in the hall. “Damo?” he asked with raised eyebrows. Blake recognized him as one of the particularly good-looking Barking lifeguards.

“Just fucking great,” Damo muttered. “Invite everyone over! Come on in and see how pathetic I am!”

Raised voices echoed from the main bedroom, and Damo threw the laundry to the floor and bolted past the paramedic, who watched him with concern and followed.

When the hall was clear, Blake hurried in the other direction. Damo had made it clear he should go, and as much as he hated it, Blake clearly wasn’t helping. In the foyer, he called goodbye to Tabby, who ignored him, and led Cooper outside.

With shaky hands, Blake tapped the screen on the console and pulled up the address of the rental house where Tash and her family were staying. Heart thudding, tasting bile, he drove.

After a few minutes, Cooper said, “I guess we’re not going surfing.”

“No. Sorry, buddy.”

“That’s okay. How’s Damo?”

“He’s upset right now. But he’ll be good.” He would. He had to be. Blake needed Damo to be happy and laughing again like he needed oxygen.

After another long silence, Cooper said, “It’s really cool that you can surf. Can I watch you before we go home?”

“Absolutely.” Despite everything, Blake allowed himself a moment to be proud. His son thought he was cool. Or at least that he was cool-adjacent. “Thanks for defending my honor as a garbo.”

“You get to drive big trucks. It’s totally cool.” He hesitated. “Why don’t you know Damo’s family?”

Blake couldn’t quite say the naked truth—We barely know each other.

Was that the truth? It didn’t feel like it. He didn’t care if it was too fast. He knew Damo. Not all of him—and he didn’t expect to in only weeks. But Blake was falling in love deeper than he’d ever expected.

“Uh…Blake?”

He snapped back to attention, giving Coop what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he slowed for a light. “Sorry, I was miles away. I haven’t actually met Damo’s family before today. We haven’t been dating very long. Also, he’s not out to them yet.” That was unequivocally the truth, at least.

Coop frowned. “Why not?”

“He wasn’t ready.”

“But he wanted us to meet his sister. Even though she’s kind of mean.”

“I guess he was feeling ready today, but then there was so much chaos… And I’m sure Tabby was just stressed. It was a lot to deal with.”

“That’s true.” Cooper shifted in his seat, kicking his feet in front of him. “Maybe I can meet her again. At a better time.”

Blake nodded, hoping he’d be able to meet her again too—and that he hadn’t completely ruined everything.