Romance didn’t exist between Farah and Jules, but an intimacy was there all the same. When an abnormal cold settled over Matori she was one of two who had made the trip to his island to check on him. His father, Taavetti, hadn’t wanted to bring her. Jules had never visited Farah – mainly because he hadn’t wanted her to – but the stubborn girl wouldn’t relent. She’d wanted to make sure he was safe and as annoyed as he was that she was there, in his space, Farah couldn’t find it in himself to hate it.

Compared to Farah and his father Jules was a burst of life. Her entire appearance was the personification of sunlight and all the warmth it was hiding from the world. She had enough clothing stashed back from Belrea to keep warm, though Taavetti seemed to be struggling with the changes. The older Matorian shivered, as if the wind sneaking into Farah’s humble hut was enough to freeze him in place.

“Farah, we’ve been over this – it's just a few days.” Taavetti reached for some of Farah’s clothes, only to have his son take them from him. “It’s too cold here! You need to come back with me.” When Farah’s grip held firm Taavetti turned to Jules, “Can you help me?”

“What if I stayed with you?” When both men seemed to stall, Jules pressed on, “Just tonight. If you can prove to me that you’re fine in this cold then you can stay. If not you’ll have to go with your father, okay?” As she talked her curls bounced and for a moment Farah thought they’d come alive. Like little flaming eels slithering out of her head to wrap around his own.

“I don’t have to go anywhere. I’m a grown man; I can make my own decisions.” Farah pressed and reached for his clothes. This time Taavetti relented; though, not without throwing his hands up and huffing first. “This is my home. I’m not leaving and you’re not staying.”

“And why not? You said you liked me.”

“I do but you can’t stay.”

“But why, Farah?”

“Because this is HER home and NOT yours!” He finally shouted. Taavetti immediately placed himself between the two of them, as if he were worried about what his son would do, but something in Jules eyes clicked. Farah knew it because the lines in his friend’s face softened. He didn’t want her pity; he just needed her to understand. “Only I can stay here; no one else.”

“Okay.” Jules nodded and looked at Taavetti. “Look, you’ve seen him and he’s fine. It’s cold in here, but the windows are closed, he’d got blankets and a fire; honestly, he’s doing better than some of the villagers.” It was clear she wasn’t in love with the idea, but with Farah unwilling to budge there was only so much she could do.

Taavetti sighed and slowly turned toward his son. “You’re not coming back with me, are you?”

“Why now? I’ve been fine on my own for years.” Something in the statement must have cut because his father flinched. Good. His father was a good man – Farah knew that much – but he wasn’t consistent. He’d made sure his b*****d children hadn’t starved and kept it at that.

The wind howled outside his hut, but the structure didn’t move. As old as it was it was built to stand. It was a while before Taavetti announced they needed to head back before night fell and Jules reluctantly went with him. She lingered in the doorway, amicably chatting with Farah about his latest project before reluctantly following his father. The added layers gave her body shapes it didn’t normally have – shapes that Farah was only just noticing – and when she reached for his hand he didn’t turn her away.

“Please look after yourself. Sleep with socks on, keep the blankets on you, and I’ll see you in the morning. If that’s okay?”

Farah squeezed her hand. “Yeah, that’s okay.” With his father Farah had outright told the man not to come back tomorrow, but Jules could. She had unrestricted access to him in ways that his sister never had. It filled a hole in his chest, having Jules around, but it also brought out new questions.

Like why she cared so much and when the script would turn. Good things didn’t last for Farah – he tended to bring out the worst in others. So maybe this storm was the herald of something new for him; either something good or something bad.

[758]