9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Trent

Trent locked the door of his guesthouse behind him and strode with purpose towards his car. Paperwork, signatures, numbers—they swirled in his head, a relentless reminder of how precarious his finances were. He slid into the driver's seat, belted up, and pressed the ignition. The engine came to life, he adjusted the radio, and pulled out onto the road towards Katoomba.

He was used to this drive, usually enjoying the scenery flashing past, but today was different. Today, his mind wasn't on the winding road or the drone of the radio presenter detailing the weather forecast. His thoughts were full of memories of the day before—memories laced with sexual tension and longing.

Callum .

Just the name sent a ripple through him. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying to shake the thoughts of Callum—the image of his rugged features, the easy way his laughter lightened Trent's mood, the electricity that seemed to crackle between them. It was maddening how one man could bring such turmoil and yet be the one bright spark in his sea of worries—not just the fire, but the whole financial predicament he'd found himself in.

The recollection of Callum's strength as he grabbed him and saved him from the fall stubbornly refused to fade. Damn, it had felt amazing to be held tightly against his hard body, but it had been the look in Callum's gaze that had caused his heart to melt. What Trent felt wasn't just attraction; it was a craving, deep and undeniable. With a sigh, he admitted to himself that Callum was the only thing capable of drawing a smile from him at the moment.

In the dead of last night, when sleep had proved elusive and haunted by thoughts of Callum, he'd risen from his bed. Padding across the cold floorboards, he'd flicked on the dim light of his office and set about reviewing bills and overdue accounts—anything to distract himself from the thought of what it would feel like to be held in those strong arms again. To have him in my bed.

A chuckle escaped, dry and without real humour. "Nothing like a bit of financial ruin to dampen the spirits," he'd muttered to himself. With every bill he'd reviewed, the physical desire had waned, until he was eventually so tired he'd fallen asleep when his head hit the pillow.

Trent jerked as his phone rang, loud in the confines of the car. He accepted the call, grateful for the break in his thoughts.

"Hey, Sis," he answered, slowing to round another bend.

"Hey, Trent."

"How are you?" he asked.

"How am I?" Her voice went up an octave. "I'm not the one living in the middle of a fire zone. Oh my God, I've been watching the news. It looks frightening."

"Yeah, it's pretty rough."

"That's an understatement. It isn't looking good. Maybe it's time to come back to Sydney, huh?"

"Yeah, no, that won't be happening. I can't just walk away, Patty."

"But there's nothing you can do if the fire reaches your place. You're not planning on being a hero, are you?"

He barked a laugh. "They'll be no heroics from me."

"But, Trent—"

"No buts, it's under control."

"I hate the idea of you up there by yourself."

"I'm not here by myself. I've got Callum. Damn, Patty, he's awesome, a bloody legend. He's been working like a beast, clearing around the property, helping out the neighbours. Hell, he even helped me make sandwiches for the fire crew."

"Ooh, Callum, eh? That's the second time you've mentioned him this week, both times singing his praises. Got a bit of a crush, do you?"

Trent froze, hands tightening on the steering wheel. It was strange hearing it from someone else's mouth.

"Oh my God, you do! My brother is opening his heart again." Her squeal of delight almost burst his eardrums.

"Keep it down, will you? It's… complicated."

"Isn't it always with you, hon?" Patty's voice softened. "But seriously, tell me about him."

He gave in, glad to have someone to confide his feelings to. "Callum's just… he's got this way about him, makes you feel like you're the only one in the room. He listens. And he's real, you know? No pretence. What you see is what you get. He's generous to a fault." He groaned. "To be honest, I don't even know if he's into me, or into guys, for that matter."

"But you must have got a hint?"

If he read the glances Callum threw in his direction, and the way he responded when they touched, then there was absolutely something there. "Yeah, maybe."

"Well, you'll never know unless you take a chance." Her wisdom was undeniable, but that didn't do anything to loosen the knot in his gut.

"Anyway," Trent said, as the sign for Katoomba's main street came into view. "Gotta go, as I have an appointment at the bank. Talk later?"

"Sure thing, stay safe and keep in contact. Love ya."

"Love you too."

Disconnecting the call, Trent scanned the busy street for a gap among the parked cars. After a moment, he spotted one and manoeuvred into the space. The bank loomed ahead, its sandstone facade a reminder of the important meeting awaiting him.

"Let's get this over with." He got out of the car and strode towards the entrance with purpose.

An hour later, he emerged from the bank. He was in a shit mood as he slammed the car door closed. It was bad enough to be grovelling for the loan but the bank manager had kept him waiting. He had better things to do than sit around the office—he had a fuck ton of sandwiches to make and deliver. Now all he wanted was to get home to the guesthouse. And to Callum.

He fired up the engine and the radio came to life. The reporter's urgent voice cut through the cabin.

"—a sudden wind change has sent the fire racing towards Blackheath. Authorities are warning of potential road closures as a new blaze ignites—"

"Fuck!" Trent cursed under his breath, his pulse quickening. He flipped the indicator and pulled out onto the road, with no time to waste. He headed out of town and onto the highway, foot heavy on the accelerator, dread clawing at his insides. The radio's voice had been a cold splash of reality; Blackheath was in danger, and with it, the guesthouse he'd poured his heart and soul into, and Callum—amazing, unwavering Callum, who'd become an important part of his life.

He urged the car as fast as was safe along the winding road that cut through the mountains. The sky had darkened with smoke that lent an orange tint to the distant sky. It seemed everyone had the same idea and traffic thickened. He ended up crawling along behind a line of cars, and clenched the steering wheel, taking a deep breath that did little to calm his racing heart.

He voice-called Callum. It rang once, twice, three times, then kept on ringing before finally diverting to voicemail. Fuck!

"Callum, it's me. Give me a call back ASAP. We have a real situation with the fires." He was surprised he could keep his voice so steady.

The traffic ahead slowed, brake lights flaring red in a domino effect as a chorus of car horns began. He wound down the window and leaned out despite the smell, trying to see past the queue of vehicles. He tapped his fingers on the wheel, praying the stop would be temporary, but as minutes stretched into what felt like hours, and the cars remained stationary, his hope dwindled, replaced by a gnawing helplessness. He killed the engine, climbed from the car, and jogged up to get a better view.

A group of people stood around at the head of the queue where firefighters had barricaded the road.

"Any idea how long it'll take to open the road?" Trent asked one of them.

"Could be a while, mate," the firefighter replied. "Spot fire started up a bit further along the highway. We're on it, but it's gonna take time, as we don't want to put anyone at risk."

"Right," Trent said, his chest tightening.

"Probably best not to head in that direction anyway," she added. "The fire is heading that way, and there are evacuation orders in place for some areas."

There was nothing to do but wait. He retreated to his vehicle, worry heavy on his shoulders. He tried Callum again but got the same result and hung up in frustration. As he sat there, immobile in the growing line of cars, he wracked his brain for another way through.

The map app on his phone was no help, showing only a tangle of routes now marked with crimson lines and warning symbols. His mind raced with images of back trails and service roads but came up with nothing that would get him through. The only option was to wait for the officials to give the go-ahead.

It pissed him off that he was out here relatively safe from the fires, but the guesthouse, with its weatherboard walls and timber decking, would be tinder in a blaze like this. And Callum— God, Callum —could be out there, trying to beat back flames with nothing but a garden hose and stubborn courage. He hoped like hell that Callum had heeded any warnings to leave.

With a sigh, he slumped back into his seat. Reaching for his phone again, he scrolled through contacts, attempting calls to neighbours in Blackheath. He managed to leave a message on one voicemail before the mobile tower must have come down and his phone became useless. As if this day could get any worse? Now he had no means to contact anyone and had to rely on broadcast updates.

Over the next couple of hours, the radio crackled with updates, an endless stream of warnings and reports that painted an ominous picture, each report escalating his fear. The only peace came when he heard an update that locals from the area had successfully evacuated to the community hall, and the fire was being controlled. Please be safe, Callum.

Time ticked by slowly as he waited for the road to reopen. He issued silent pleas, as he waited, watched, and worried, his thoughts fixed on the safety of his home, and even more so, on Callum.