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Iris
…
Iris
Same.
Trystan
What are you doing RIGHT now?
Iris
Random. Lol. I’m in Gunnersbury Park having a ham and cheese sandwich. It’s cold af. Winter is coming.
Trystan
A GOT reference? Dated. And lame.
Iris
Are you still salty because they didn’t cast you as Jon Snow?
Trystan
Don’t believe everything you read in the tabloids, Iris!
Iris
Oops, sorry. You’d think I’d know better by now.
Trystan
It was Robb Stark.
“My mum always makes the same meal my first night back,” Trystan confided two weeks after that initial phone call to Iris from Madrid. “Sausages with onion gravy and mash. It was my favorite back when I was an ankle biter. Nobody makes it like Mum.”
He always called Iris at the same time every night, even though his time zone kept changing with each subsequent stop on his tour. He’d been to ten countries throughout Europe and Asia in fourteen days. It exhausted Iris just thinking about it. He was currently in Cairns, his hometown. It would be a four-day stop, allowing him and his team time to rest and Trystan to spend time with his family.
Hunter Quinn had grabbed the opportunity to fly over to Christchurch to visit his parents and Chance had been temporarily relieved of duty as well, allowing him time to visit the few friends and acquaintances he had left in the Northern Territory.
“Do you have any special plans?”
“Nah, maybe have a barbie with some old schoolmates tomorrow. But nothing special.”
“You must be happy to be home,” she said with a smile.
“I’m not home.” The sudden, overwhelming sadness in his voice made her heart stutter in her chest.
“Trys—”
“Iris… Home is where you are.”
“You shouldn’t say things like that. Why would you say that?” she asked in an appalled whisper, tears welling in her eyes. This was the first time, since they’d resumed communications, that he’d brought the conversation back to this place.
“Because it’s true,” he replied. “What do you think we’re doing here? With the calls and the texts?”
“We’re friends…”
