8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Callum

Callum woke to faint dawn light filtering through the sheer curtains of his cottage. As usual, he immediately flung back the covers and sat on edge of the bed ready to start his day. No rest for the wicked. He could hear his nan's voice in his head and smiled. She was a whirlwind, busy from sunup to sundown. He scrunched his toes into the soft pile of the blue patterned rug that had been his grandmother's, one of the few things he had as a memory of her and reached for his phone.

As he'd done every morning for the last couple of days, he opened the app to check the status of the fire. He scanned the site as he wandered to his small kitchen and put on the kettle, leaning on the counter as he read the latest news. Still grim. He sighed and made a mug of instant coffee.

The bushfire crisis had weighed heavily on his minds for days, but at least now he was taking some action and that determination put some spring into his step. He downed the coffee and headed straight for the shower. He'd spent the hours before bed last night reading about the Rural Fire Service and their volunteer program and was eager about the possibility. Trent and a group of locals had made mountains of sandwiches yesterday and had plans to do the same today. When they dropped them off at the community hall, he hoped to get a bit more insight into the RFS operations.

Not too much later, he was heading up to the house. He warmed at the sight of Trent's tousled brown hair and the way his eyes sparkled despite the early hour.

"Morning." Trent pressed a cup of espresso into his hands the moment he set foot through the kitchen door. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Like a log." He took a sip of the strong coffee, much better than his instant. "You?"

"I was asleep before my head hit the pillow." Trent chuckled, the sound blending with the soft music coming from the speaker on the windowsill. "I hope toast is all right this morning."

Callum nodded and as Trent turned to the toaster, his gaze was drawn to the soft jeans that moulded to his body to perfection. He had a sudden desire to run his hand over the gentle slope of Trent's arse. He swallowed heavily and turned away.

The makings for sandwiches covered the large kitchen table—loaves of bread, a salad spinner overflowing with lettuce, sliced tomatoes, a big bowl of eggs, tubs of margarine, and bottles of mayo. Trent must have been up early to prepare for another day of making lunch for the fire crews.

Callum ate vegemite toast and sipped coffee, enjoying the quietness of the kitchen, but it wasn't to last. As the clock hit 7:30, eight people arrived at the back door, chatting a mile a minute as they took over the kitchen. Trent has clearly made friends with the assortment of women and teenagers, laughing and joking as they moved in harmony, slicing and layering fresh bread with varying ingredients from cold cuts, cheese, lettuce, mashed eggs, and tomato.

He made himself as useful as possible, carefully cutting sandwiches into halves before wrapping them in cling film, but it was hard to concentrate on the simple task when Trent drew all his attention.

"Almost done, just a few more to go," Trent said. He glanced over at Callum, his eyes softening for a moment. "Thanks for doing this with me."

Heat flooded Callum's cheeks. "Of course. Happy to help out."

With the last of the sandwiches wrapped and ready to go, they stacked them in insulated boxes and filled eskies with bottled water.

"Reckon we've got enough?" Callum asked.

"Should be plenty," Trent replied, "But we can always bring more if they need it."

They packed the ute and hit the road. As they drove towards the community hall, it was obvious the smoke had grown thicker in that direction. Where previously there'd been a cloud of smoke in the far distance, now the smoke was dispersed over a larger area. The car air conditioning struggled to keep the smell out. He tuned into the online radio station that broadcast fire updates. He sensed Trent was also anxious, the tense silence in the car punctuated by the occasional crackle of the radio as updates came through about the bushfire's advance.

He rounded the last corner and pulled into the car park. As he exited the ute, he caught sight of the sea of exhausted faces and filthy uniforms. Fatigue was clear in every one of these brave men and women.

"Bloody hell," Trent murmured.

Callum met his gaze over the roof of the vehicle and they shared a look. Seeing the firefighters brought home how real this battle was.

"Let's get these sandwiches inside," Trent said. "Looks like they could do with them."

"Right behind you," Callum replied, heading to the back of the ute to unload their cargo.

They carried the eskies into the hall. A uniformed guy directed them to a trestle table at the rear, where a grateful volunteer accepted the food and water.

"Thank you," he said as he began unpacking the sandwiches, "much appreciated."

"Anytime. Keep up the good fight," Callum said, looking around at the group of men and women who had been putting their lives on the line to protect others. Their exhaustion was palpable, but so too was the appreciation as they took sandwiches and bottled water and settled into chairs at the edges of the call.

"Cheers, mate. You have no idea how much I need this," a tall, broad-shouldered man said, giving Trent a nod as he took a bite of his sandwich. "I'm starving."

"It's the least we could do," Trent replied. "How's it going out there?"

The guy shrugged. "Sometimes it feels like we're fighting a losing battle, but we're not giving up. At least we've kept the fire front away from town, and it looks like the weather is finally on our side."

"So thing are improving then?" Trent asked.

"Well, I'm not counting my chickens, but I've got my fingers crossed."

"If there's anything we can do, let us know," Trent said.

"Appreciate it." The firefighter took a swig of water and headed off.

Trent turned to him, his voice low. "They're risking everything, Callum. They're putting their lives on the line."

Callum placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know. But it's what they're here for. They're doing it because they want to. They're doing it for the people who can't fight this monster themselves."

"It's one hell of a sacrifice," Trent said. "I feel so useless."

"Hey, we all do our part."

"I just hope it's enough."

Later that day, they made their way to the rear of the garden. The smoke in the air compounded the lingering heat, making the afternoon uncomfortable. On the tree-lined horizon, the sky was thick with smoke from the distant fire.

"Feels like they've barely made a dent, doesn't it?" Trent said. "All those firefighters, working so hard, and the fire just keeps burning."

Callum nodded. "Let's just hope the weather stays favourable, but in the meantime we've got to keep doing whatever we can. Are you sure you're up for this?"

"Yeah. It's good to have something to do to keep me occupied. It was a shame to have to cancel bookings, but having guests stay wasn't a risk I was prepared to take, but it means I have too much time on my hands."

He nodded. "We've taken care of the guesthouse grounds, but I thought it would be a good to clear some of the undergrowth and scrub behind the back fence even though it's not your property. We might not get to do much, but it could help slow down the fire if it comes this way."

"Like a fire break?"

"Exactly."

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Trent said.

Callum passed him a pair of gloves from the wheelbarrow he'd loaded up with supplies.

They set to work attacking the dense vegetation, cutting back branches and pulling up saplings that were growing near the boundary.

"Watch out!" Trent yanked a stubborn vine free from the ground, sending a shower of dirt flying his way. "Sorry."

Callum wiped his face with the back of his wrist. He must have looked a mess as the dirt mingled with the sweat on his brow. He shrugged and shot a grin Trent's way, somehow enjoying the time together despite the circumstances. As they continued to clear the undergrowth, he was more and more aware of Trent's presence beside him. Each interaction, each glance, each unintentional brushing of arms, sparked something powerful in him. Trent's usual stylish wardrobe had been replaced with a worn pair of jeans with holes at the knees, and a faded T-shirt that had seen better days. He looked tired but determined as his muscles flexed and strained. Callum couldn't help stealing glances as Trent hacked away at some tangled undergrowth with a pair of secateurs. Their eyes met briefly, and a small smile played on Trent's lips before he returned to his pruning.

A bead of sweat trickled down his temple as he forced himself to look away. He hefted a last armful of debris into the now overflowing wheelbarrow and trundled off to the waste pile. He returned a short while later to find Trent part-way up a tree, reaching for a dead limb.

Jesus.

Trent was only a few feet off the ground, but he hated heights, and the precarious position sent a shiver through Callum. He quickened his pace.

"Oh, good, you're back," Trent said when he saw him. "Can you give me a hand with this branch?"

Callum could hear the nervousness in his voice. "Sure thing. Just be careful."

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Trent leaned further, holding the tree with one hand and reaching out with the other. His heart leapt into his throat as Trent lost his footing. His foot slipped, throwing him off balance, and Callum instinctively reached out to catch him, pulling Trent to him.

"Whoa, that was close," Trent breathed, his chest heaving against Callum's.

For a moment, time stood still. All Callum could feel was the heat radiating from Trent's body, and he fought the urge to pull him even tighter against him.

"Are you all right?"

"Y-yeah, just a bit shaken. Thanks for the save," Trent said, face tilted, eyes locked on his.

"Anytime," Callum replied, trying to steady his racing pulse.

They stood there for a heartbeat longer before he reluctantly let go and they stepped apart.

"Um. Maybe you should get that branch. You're taller than me, yeah?" Trent said, a hint of colour on his cheeks.

"Okay." His mind still reeled from having Trent's body warm against his. If he'd thought concentrating on the task at hand was hard before, it had nothing on how unfocused he was now. But despite this, they worked for another half an hour before he eventually stopped. "Reckon we've done all we can for today."

"Agreed." Trent straightened with an armful of sticks. "I'm knackered, but at least I feel we've achieved something."

Callum nodded. The main thing he'd achieved was to tie himself in knots about Trent, and he had no idea what to do about it.

As they put their equipment away in the shed, then walked side by side towards the guesthouse, he replayed the earlier moment when he'd caught Trent in his arms. The memory sent a shiver down his spine, and he stole another glance at the man beside him. Trent who was caring and compassionate, and all-round nice guy. Trent who was his boss, but also a good friend and great company. And cute as hell. Trent who inspired him to do something about his feelings.

It was just a matter of when.