Page 49 of Free Wind (Lifeguards of Barking Beach #2)

One month later

It was full-on bizarre to see Dad outside in the sunshine. It was already cooking at ten in the morning, and his wheelchair sat in the shade under an awning. He puffed on a cigarette. A few other patients walked around the yard over half-brown grass.

Damo’s heart thumped as he crossed the courtyard and passed a rock garden.

Until two weeks ago, the last time he’d seen his father had been getting loaded into the ambulance that night, screaming and cursing.

The first time Damo had visited the rehab center, Dad had been in bed, withdrawn and sullen.

Now, sitting outside, he wore trackies and one of his old T-shirts—this one from New Zealand with the All Blacks logo. That trip had been Mum and Dad’s honeymoon. The paleness of his skin was even more stark outdoors, even in the shade.

“Hiya!” Damo said, keeping his tone light. He stood there awkwardly by the wheelchair. Should he try a hug? They hadn’t hugged since before the accident. At first, Dad had been in traction. Later…

There wasn’t any hugging.

“Ya just gonna stand there gawping?” Dad asked, though his tone was lighter than Damo could remember in ages.

“Yeah, nah.” He pulled over a patio chair. “How ya goin’?”

Dad grunted.

“Nice to be outside, hey?” Damo thought of all the times he and Mum had tried and failed to convince Dad to let them help him out to the porch.

Another grunt.

“Did Mum tell you Tabs scored six behinds in one game?”

“That’s good.” Dad exhaled a stream of smoke and tapped his cigarette into a half-full ashtray. “Is she…” He seemed not to know what to say, or changed his mind. “She doesn’t wanna come here.” It wasn’t a question.

“Not yet.” Damo kicked off his thong and tucked his foot under himself. “She will.”

Dad grunted, then looked up, his lip curling. Damo followed his gaze and waved back to a man in slacks and a buttoned shirt who called out, “Beautiful morning, isn’t it?” before walking into the building.

“Shrink,” Dad grumbled. “Wants me to go on meds.”

“Ah, yeah?” Damo asked, trying for a neutral tone.

“They won’t give me the pills I need, mind you. Says I’m ‘depressed.’ Told him he would be too.”

“Fair enough. Can’t hurt to try, though. How’s the physio going?” They’d had multiple therapists try home visits over the years, but they’d each only come once. Mum had done her best to encourage Dad to do his exercises. For a few years, at least.

Dad muttered something under his breath, and Damo didn’t ask him to repeat it. At least he didn’t have a choice now. Along with the drug and alcohol rehab, physical rehab was part of his program. He coughed and fumbled with his cigarette, dropping it to the pavement.

“I’ve got it.” Damo bent and carefully handed it back to Dad even though he wanted to stub it out, take Dad’s pack off him, and flush them down the toilet the way he’d fantasized as a kid. Which was probably bad for the environment, but he’d always hated the stench and smoke.

Dad’s bare feet were dry, the heels cracked. Damo would mention it to Mum to see if they could get some of that ointment they’d used in the past.

“How’s your…” Dad waved a hand. The tips of his fingers were yellow from the nicotine. “Friend. Boyfriend.”

“He’s good.” Damo smiled, nice little butterflies flapping in his belly. He reckoned the “honeymoon phase” as Mia called it would wear off soon enough, but he hoped not.

He’d told Dad the week before with Mum there for backup. Hadn’t needed it, which was a pleasant surprise. Dad had only nodded and said it was good Damo was happy.

Now, Dad was silent, and Damo’s smile slipped.

Was he about to say something shitty about Blake?

Quickly, Damo started talking. “His leg’s healing well, and he’s back at work.

I’ve told him he’s not allowed to go surfing without me if it’s over a meter.

Even though I know a fin chop can happen anytime.

We all get one eventually. His was a doozy, though. ”

“His what?”

“It was a fin chop,” Damo repeated. “Not quite as gnarly as that one your mate Kevo had. Remember that?”

Dad’s brows met. “Maybe.”

“It was the back of his heel. He was lucky it didn’t cut through his Achilles. That kook went right over top of him, and Kevo almost made it under except his foot came up. It was the worst thing I’d ever seen. At least at nine years old.”

“Mm. But what’s his name?”

“Kev? Um, Preston, I think.”

Dad’s voice rose in sudden agitation. “No, your boyfriend!”

Going rigid, Damo quietly said, “Blake.”

“Right.” Dad exhaled, sitting back and repeating, “Right. I couldn’t remember.”

“No worries. He’s still new.”

“But I want to remember.”

Throat tight, Damo nodded. “Thanks.” That bit of effort… It was the first time in years.

A young woman bustled out of a smaller building and said brightly, “There you are, Rod. Having a nice visit with your son?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s time for art class in the studio. Paints today. I think you’ll really enjoy having a play with the watercolors.”

The idea of Dad playing or painting anything but walls was wild to Damo. “Sounds fun, hey? I’ve got to get to Barkers for work anyway.”

Dad grunted, and the woman waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, she gave Damo a kind smile and wheeled Dad away.

Damo had to admit he breathed more easily now that he was leaving. He took a few steps, then heard Dad call his name. He turned and waited.

Dad asked quietly—almost pleadingly—“Will I see you again?”

“I’ll be back next week. Maybe I’ll bring Blake with me to say hello?”

“Good.”

That one simple, hopeful word echoed in Damo’s head, and he was smiling again as he headed to Barkers.

“Shorey’s gonna get him. Gone. Gone!” Hazza cried out through laughter.

In the tower, they were all laughing as Ryan nosedived with a patient even though the surf wasn’t high. Their laughter paused for a moment until they saw that Ryan and the patient—a teenage boy who’d gotten in over his head—were okay.

Damo scanned the water with binos. “Rookie move.”

Lachlan shook his head with a grin. “Can’t wait to tease him about this one.”

Teddy said, “As your boss, I should discourage any and all teasing, but mate, that was shocking.” His mobile buzzed, and he left the tower.

The day had turned so hot that the crowd had thinned a bit while people went for lunch and found aircon. They’d be back after three and keep the lifeguards busy as until sunset. In the meantime, the sand and unprotected skin were burning.

“How’s your boyfriend?” Lachlan asked.

“Yeah, good. His leg’s so much better. He’s great. Amazing, really.”

Lachlan chuckled. “Glad to hear it.”

“Don’t mind him,” Cody said, giving Damo a slap on the back. “He’s in the honeymoon phase.”

“Must be nice.” Lachlan cleared his throat and looked suddenly uncomfortable.

Damo and Cody shared a glance before Damo asked Lachlan, “What about you, mate? The chicks must be knocking down your door.”

Lachlan’s eyebrows shot up. “Girls? I’m queer. Thought everyone knew by now.”

“Wait, what?” Damo exclaimed. “Yeah, nah, I would’ve remembered that, mate! Good on ya. We’re taking over.”

They all laughed, though between the full-timers, seasonal, and casual lifeguards, there were at least two dozen on the roster.

Cody said, “My impression was that I was the first out lifeguard here? Weren’t you at Barking for some years before me?”

“Oh, I definitely wasn’t out the first few years. Not with my boyfriend being—” Lachlan broke off and cleared his throat. “Guess I wasn’t properly out until law school, and it never came up here with the boys. Figured Ryan might’ve said something while I was gone, but of course he wouldn’t.”

“Cool,” Cody said. “Seeing anyone now?”

With a shrug, Lachlan said, “Nah. Too busy,” and peered intently at the north end.

Damo had to think that he’d have been a damn sight busier before as a lawyer, but he didn’t let that thought trip out of his mouth for a change.

Lachlan said, “Is there a head out the back? Two?”

Damo followed Lachlan’s gaze. “Ah, yeah. I see ’em. Can’t swim a stroke. I’ll go.” He raced down the tower stairs and fired up the waiting buggy as Cody hopped in beside him.

The day passed in a rush of rescues, chasing a bag thief, and helping a lost kid find his parents.

After pack-up, he changed into his shorts and singlet, leaving his thongs by the ramp before walking down to the water’s edge as the sun disappeared in a splash of red.

A familiar person was outlined by the pink sky.

“Hey, Bear,” Damo said, sinking his toes into the wet sand as cool water washed in.

“Hey, Goldie.” Blake curled Damo’s hair around his fingers and drew him in for a soft kiss.

“Dreaming of catching a few waves?”

“You know it. Soon. And yes, I’ll be careful.”

“Damn right you will.”

“My mum wants me to promise not to surf at all without you there.”

“Tell her I’ll be there every chance I get. How are they?”

“Pretty good. Maybe we can do a video chat with them so you can say hello? They say they want to meet you.”

“Yeah. That’ll be good.” It made him nervous, but he’d do his best to charm them. Like Dad, they were making the effort. “How’s Coop?”

Blake beamed. “Great. Passed that math test he was worried about with flying colors.”

“Sweet. Tell him congrats.”

Blake gazed out at the horizon. “You’re right, you know. There are no bad sunsets.”

It wasn’t as spectacular as others, but Damo nodded since he was right. “Glad you can appreciate my wisdom.”

Blake chuckled. “Always.”

“Having dinner with me and Tabs?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Warm fingers clasped, they crossed the sand and picked up their thongs. Walking across the grass, Damo nodded to a few locals.

He made sure he was always there overnight with Tabby if Mum had a night shift, and he tried to stay over a couple of nights a week regardless. Funny that even though it would always be home in one way, he was already thinking of it as “staying over” when he was there.

Being with Blake—sharing a bed and bathroom and morning kisses—was feeling more and more like home every day.

They had dinner—Tabby’s spag bol special that she’d learned from Damo—and when Blake had gone and Damo finished the dishes, trying to keep things neater than before, he put on a load of laundry.

Blake had cleared out half the drawers for him at his place—which would be their place within the year—and Damo packed up a few more things to bring over. Then he flopped onto his old narrow bed, the springs squeaking.

His phone buzzed, and he laughed as he looked at the screen and sent the same back. Damo never reckoned he’d be saying I love you with a thumbs-up emoji.