23 - Honey, I'm (Your) Home

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"Daniel— You don't need to 'get better at losing.' There wont be many more of those this season. I promise."


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- 📍 Perth, Western Australia -



Daniel set me up with a door code to his home in Perth immediately after he assumed his place at my home in London.

I took it as a joke, at the time. Laughing until our stomachs hurt about how instead of splitting mortgage payments and figuring out owner titles we'd just trade keys. I was doubled over, writhing in the pain of my loss of breath and sore sides when Daniel pulled out his phone, opened his security app, and created a code for me out of our driver numbers. This was the most Daniel had made me cry in our entire time together, and I was thankful for it. Crying tears of happiness.

"0360," Daniel looked at me with stoney eyes. My chin wagged as I shook my head back and forth, wordlessly begging him to stop. "I'm not joking, babe! Mi casa es su casa, and all that. Or, whatever it is. Our home."

"'Our home' all the way on the other side of the globe, that I've only been to once." Talk about extra. I nodded, pronouncing each syllable as if to clarify. "Daniel, really. I was joking about your dirty laundry taking up useful hamper space. You don't have to—"

"It's already done," Daniel placed a finger on my lips, raising his brow.

He really could've been joking for all I knew. Of course I didn't need anything in return for him informally moving in with me.

But, with the Australian soil panning so quickly underneath me it blurred, I was so excited to use that door code. My door code.

I didn't sleep the entire way to Australia. I couldn't sleep the entire way to Australia. It took a monumental amount of strength to not personally count down the minutes it took from the plane tucking its wheels up in Saudi Arabia, to the same compartments opening up again to prep for landing. Rumbling beneath our feet, planted readily on the ground. Daniel had his head turned, pointing out different landmarks and the color of the trees- vibrant. Thriving in the late Australian summer.

Daniel, Michael, Blake, and I loaded our bags into the SUV that would take us to the farmhouse. As it rumbled along the ground, turning the airport into a mere spec behind me, I nuzzled my head in to the crook between the headrest and the car door. Daniels free hand was warm on my thigh, taking away from the nerves that sat heavy in the base of my gut. Lighting my core to a buzz.

The nerves that told me I was doing something wrong, by being here this week instead of back home. Back in the UK. There was so much that I had been removed from for a record breaking two weeks.

Dad going through his first round of treatment. Julia handling things at OMS with Rory, even hiring an assistant to help her out. Never could I have imagined hiring my assistant an assistant. I allowed myself a little giggle at that.

Not to mention the team commitment. We had a lot to officially debrief after Daniels crash in Saudi. There was work to be done to make sure it wouldn't happen again. We had to tweak the car somehow, adjust it to Daniels aggressive cornering and late-breaking.

"Hey-" Zak had interrupted me, mid-explaining to him that I was decided. I'd go back to the UK with the team and let Daniel have a week with his family. I perked up, chest huffing in the air. When was the last time I took a breath? Probably February.

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