I've been really moved by the thoughts, prayers, and donations so many of you have sent down here as Australia continues to battle bushfires. You're all amazing. It's looking like Friday is going to be another scary day, so cross all the things for us, wouldya?

Katie calls me when I'm on my way home from TAFE after our final day of classes for the year. I click the button on my headphones to take the call. I'd put them in because I was planning on calling Bella while I drove home but Katie's beaten me to it.

'S'up, Katie-cakes?'

'You're in a good mood,' she says.

'And?' I feel like I'm pretty much always in a good mood at the moment. Yeah, work is a slog and Mick's busting all our arses because he really wants this place finished in time for the owners to move in before Christmas. But most days, I get to spend my afternoons or evenings hanging out with Bella and then my nights with her in my bed. And the things that happen there make me very, very happy.

'Things with Bella are good, then?'

'They're great.' I smirk to myself as my mind tosses up a few choice images of the fun we had the night before last, working our way through our 'list.'

'I can tell you're thinking about sex right now,' Katie says. 'And FYI, it's gross.'

I chuckle. 'Fair enough.' Frankly, I'd be squicked out if I thought too much about my sister having sex. To push that thought right out of my mind, I say, 'What can I do for you?'

Katie sighs. 'Not much. I just wanted to tell you that I'm back at home.'

'Yeah?' Mum had texted me to let me know Katie was going over to talk with Dad last night. It mustn't have been the disaster I anticipated then. 'That's good, right?' It's stinking hot in my car, so I roll the window down and lean my right arm on the sill. I think the aircon needs to be re-gassed, which is fantastic because I was really hoping to blow $200 on my car just before Christmas.

'I guess.' Katie clicks her tongue. 'It's like… I don't get why it's so hard for Dad to accept that there's more nuance to the world than he was told, you know? Mum's managed fine. Even Pop is more progressive than Dad is. I just don't understand him.'

I don't have an answer for her, so I just hum my agreement and wait for her to continue.

'Anyway, he apologised for being an insensitive fuck—I'm paraphrasing, obviously—and he said that he nearly lost me to something he couldn't control and so he can't bear the thought of losing me to something he can control. He's promised to be respectful of Riley and my relationship and not to pry about things that aren't his business.'

I'd bet anything it was Mum who put the idea about losing Katie over something Dad could control in his head. And good on her.

'Well, good,' I say. 'All that should matter to him is that you're healthy and happy and that you've found someone who loves you as much as you love them.'

'Right? But speaking of… I have a check-up next week.'

My stomach drops. I swallow hard and focus on the feel of the steering wheel beneath my palms. The vinyl is warm and the stitching is coming loose behind my left index finger.

'Okay,' I manage. 'Is there any cause for concern?' Initially Katie's check-ups happened every three months, then every six. Now, she only has to have one a year. The doctors told us the anxiety we feel as the appointments approach would fade over time and with each all-clear Katie is given, but to be honest, we're not there yet. I'm not, anyway. There's still that 'what if?' that's impossible to suppress.

'Nah,' Katie says. 'I'm fine.' As if she knows I'm not going to stop worrying that easily, she continues, 'Seriously, Ned. I'm okay. I know what I'm supposed to be watching for and nothing has tripped any alarms for me, okay? I mean, I didn't even get a cold this past winter. I'm perfectly healthy.'

'All right,' I say. I'm still going to worry, but I don't want Katie to worry about me worrying. 'Let me know how it goes, okay?'

'You know I will.'

As soon as the private schools break up for the year, the population of our beachside suburb just about doubles. SUVs clog the main street and dudes in boat shoes park their Beamers across multiple spaces. The beaches are packed with tourists and the poor bastards working as council lifeguards spend most of their days begging people to swim between the flags and trying to explain that yes, that patch of water does look nice and calm but that's because there's a freaking rip there and getting dragged out to sea is about as fun as it sounds.

And then there are the jetskis. Glorified aquatic scooters that buzz around the beaches like swarms of noisy mosquitoes, ridden by complete gronks who have no regard for the eight knot speed limit, the surfers lined up out the back, or the small children playing at the water's edge. I'm sure there are people who can ride jetskis without making nuisances of themselves, but they sure as hell don't holiday around here.

The first time I see Bella completely lose her shit is when a middle-aged bloke on a jetski nearly mows down a preteen girl on a bodyboard. The girl manages to duck dive out of the way but the idiot flips his jetski when he tries to change direction at the last minute. He comes up spluttering and yelling abuse at the girl.

Bella hands me her phone before she sprints straight into the water. The girl looks completely terrified as she scrambles onto her board and waits for a wave to ride to shore. Bella is waiting for her, waist deep in the whitewash, when she makes it in.

I watch from the sand as Bella talks to the girl, hunching over so they're eye to eye. She pats the girl's shoulder and the girl nods, her expression full of relief. When the girl wades out of the surf and gathers her board under her arm, I expect Bella to follow.

She doesn't.

Instead, she swims, her strokes compact and efficient, further out towards where the wanker is trying to climb back onto his jetski. He's having a hard time of it, which I find perversely satisfying.

Bella treads water for a while and I can tell from the way she occasionally flings her arm at the guy that she's tearing him a new one. And then, bizarrely, she swims over to the ski and helps the idiot clamber back on. How typically Bella.

When she emerges from the surf, water cascading from the hem of her skirt, she stalks back up the sand towards me.

'Motherfucking arsehole. Did you see that? He could've killed her, or at least hurt her really badly. Where did she go?' She looks around wildly until she spots for the young girl. She's bundled in a towel and sandwiched between a woman I assume is her mother and a younger boy who is filling a bucket with sand. The mum waves at Bella and calls out a thank you. Bella waves back and gives her a thumbs up.

'I swear, those morons on their PWCs are the most selfish fuckwits in the known universe. If they're within two hundred metres of the shore they're only allowed to go in a straight fucking line. They're not supposed to drive in fucking circles and launch off the back of fucking waves for fuck's sake.' She lets out a growl of frustration which is actually cute as all get out, but only because it's not directed at me.

'I don't think you said fuck enough times in that rant,' I joke.

Bella's eyes flash but then she grins up at me. 'Fuck you.' She chuckles, pleased with herself for that one.

'Please do.' Bella angry is a bit of a turn on. Or I'm just always turned on by Bella and right now she happens to be angry.

She sighs and kicks sand at my ankles. 'Come on, then,' she says. 'I need to change anyway. Might as well have some fun in the process.'

In NSW, most private schools break up for the summer holidays a week or two before the public schools.

gronk = idiot/moron; PWC = personal watercraft. And yeah, I know. Hashtag not all jetskis. ;)