Page 38 of No Strings

He releases my hand as if I burnt him. “Me? Kissing you? Pretty sure you’re the one who kissed me, Princess.”

“I did not.” At least I’m pretty sure.

He doesn’t reply, just walks past me picking up a biscuit. When he takes a bite, he turns to face me, eyes wide, “These taste like….”

“They are.”

He nods. I expect a reply or something, but nothing comes. He turns on his heels and leaves to what I assume is to find Beau.

I silently fume, while gathering the biscuits to take them to Molly. When I walk outside, and I’m about to round the corner of Rhys’s house, I stop when I hear him and Beau.

“We need to get our story straight.”

What story?

“It’s already straight, would you stop stressing?”

The sound of the gravel crunching under their boots replaces their conversation.

What the fuck were they talking about?

Not my problem.

Just as I’m about to enter the homestead, Brent, Rhys, Beau and the traveling jack-a-roo’s walk out.

“Oh, Morgan.” Brent is the first to speak.

“I was just bringing the biccies Molly and I made this morning.” I raise the plate, I look between them all, I feel like I’ve missed something. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Rhys pushes his way past me.

“Ignore him. Trent went fishing with them and went overboard. We’re organising a search now.” Brent stops and eyes me to see my reaction.

I don’t give him one, even though at the mention of his name my heart squeezes with panic. “Well, I’m not helping.”

“It’s okay, Morgan. I didn’t expect you to.” Brent gives me a sad smile and then they’re all off. Piling into the cars and driving through a gate I never took much notice of before.

I walk inside to find Molly watching a Disney movie cuddling her pink bunny, which I found out earlier is named Ink, because she couldn’t say pink when she got it. I also know it was the last thing her Mum gave her before passing away.

“Hey you, want a biscuit with that movie?”

She leaps from the couch and runs over to me. “Yes, please.”

Passing her one, we go and sit down to continue the movie.

Right when the Beast turns into the Prince, Molly perks up, “I hate this part.”

“Don’t like the Prince?”

“No.” She folds her arms and slumps into the couch.

Oh, poor Brent is in for it when she starts dating.

We’re getting ready to put on a new movie when we hear a groan. We look at each other, then down the corridor where the noise came from. Davis, who is slightly pale and holding his side, makes his entrance. I continue to watch him as he gingerly walks to the couch and awkwardly sits next to Molly.

“Hey MooMoo, what are we watching?”

And her reply? “You look like crap.”