That day she had supper with Yola in the Oak and Shield. It was an odd one. Yola was both distracted, and uncharacteristically subdued. She asked Viola how she was but hardly listened to Viola's answer. To think of it, it was perhaps the first time in the fourteen years of their friendship when Viola would almost welcome Yolada's usual intrusive questions and saucy comments. The more she thought back on the day she'd spent in Rhys' bed, figuratively speaking - the more astonishing she found her mental state at the time. Being intimate with Rhys had surprised her! She'd had so little of her usual anxiety, she hadn't monitored or analysed how it had felt and what they'd done. It hadn't been like that with any other man - or with this man ten plus years ago! Sex with Rhys now had been magnificent - raw, and real, and intense, and intoxicating!

Viola and Yolanda ate and chatted a bit about Yolanda's plans for the Old Fire Station, and then the latter excused herself, thanked Viola for the offer to cover her half of the bill, and left. Viola walked back to the surgery, slowly, lost in some sort of vague melancholy thoughts, her hands pushed into the pockets of her coat, her right hand wrapped around her mobile. It didn't ring, and no notifications came. It would still be weeks before the first signs of Spring, but something seemed to have changed in the air.

In the flat, Viola pulled the phone out of her pocket and put it away - and then again, and again - and then she told herself to stop behaving like a loved up teen and dialled Rhys' number. Her call was sent into the voicemail, and she left him a friendly message and wished him goodnight.

On Friday, Fenton was away from the surgery. He was visiting his elderly Aunt over the weekend. Snezha finished work early on Fridays, she had to take her Mother for physiotherapy to Abernathy General.

When Viola woke up, she saw a text from Rhys who was telling her he was working out of town, and would be back Saturday evening. He was asking whether she'd like to grab dinner together, and she texted back that she most definitely would. He didn't answer, she assumed he was busy, and she got up to take a shower.

After her last patient left, she was locking up the surgery - and suddenly stopped in the middle of the waiting room. She'd already turned off the lights, and she saw large wet snowflakes fall behind the windows, in the cone of yellow light under a streetlamp.

Viola realised - deeply, to the very fibre of her being - that she was, at the moment, completely and utterly alone.

She had an evening all to herself now. She had two new books of Olivia Dane, take-away sushi she'd ordered but hadn't eaten for lunch, and half a bottle of excellent Prosecco from the day before. And although she had lived in this manner for the past few years, tonight her solitude felt most poignant. Viola asked herself how exactly she felt about it - and realised she didn't know. She then turned around and went upstairs into the flat.

She poured the wine in a glass and took out the takeaway container when her phone rang.

"Hello," she greeted Rhys merrily.

"Hi." She could hear the smile in his voice. "So, you see, what happened was–" he started. "Well, let's just say, I'm about a ten minute drive from you," he interrupted himself.

Viola's hand with the flute froze mid-air.

"Oh," she said and grinned widely. "I thought you were out of town. But I'm not complaining!" she added hurriedly and laughed. "I'll pour you some Prosecco."

"Well, I was going to stop by the cottage, take a shower, and–" he said, and she heard something suspiciously reminiscent of a yawn. "I thought maybe you'd like to take a cab here? Seeing, you probably don't want Fenton to hear us, because it's going to be–" He cleared his throat. "I need to show you how much I've missed you," he finished in a low voice.

Something sweetly pulled in Viola's stomach at the sound of the rasp and rumble bubbling in his throat.

"Fenton is away this weekend," she said and took a small sip of her Prosecco.

Rhys was silent for a moment, probably concentrating on driving. Suddenly, she realised she didn't quite fancy waiting.

"You can take a shower here," she said nonchalantly. "It's obviously not as luxurious as yours, but I'm sure you've seen worse."

He laughed. "You don't want to know," he said. "But, Vi– Are you sure? I don't want to– intrude."

"Intrude on me, my wine, and a romance novel I'm reading?" she asked with a giggle.

"In your space. I don't want to mess something up, and– You know how you said it makes you anxious."

"Well, we need to see how I feel about you being in my space," Viola said sensibly. "We can't spend time together only in your cottage."

"We can if–" He once again caught himself mid-sentence, and gave out a small awkward cough. Viola wondered if she knew how this sentence was supposed to end - and decided it was absolutely too early for this sort of ideas. "Alright, if you think it won't bother you, I'll be there in a few."

Viola agreed and hung up. She looked around her kitchen, wondering whether she needed to prepare in any way, and took out another glass. She then went to the washroom and checked her hair. She'd washed off her makeup already - and she gave herself an evaluating look in the mirror. She didn't know whether Rhys noticed this sort of thing, but she always thought makeup felt rather unpleasant under one's fingers and lips. Also, they could end up in a shower together later, and the view of streaks of mascara running down one's face could hardly be an aphrodisiac. And besides, as rarely as she enjoyed the way she looked, at the moment her cheekbones were slightly flushed, her eyes shone, and altogether, she had to concede, this excited, aroused look became her.

When the doorbell rang, she was still in doubt whether she should change out of her off-shoulder modal jumpsuit - but going to the buzzer, she didn't feel like she'd missed the opportunity. She buzzed him in and heard his hurried steps up the stairs. He came to a sharp halt in the doorframe.

"Hi," she said with a wide smile.

His eyes ran her over - greedily, in intense male appreciation. She returned the favour with a small laugh. He looked... tired. His hair was mussed and looked sort of matted. His clothes were crumpled and dirty. It was obvious he'd come from a site, and he'd driven for a long time. He didn't feel filthy, but he was right, he needed a long hot shower. She expected resistance, if not aversion - but all she felt was hunger for him and giddy anticipation.

"Hey," he said coarsely and took a step in. "I just–" He shook his head. "I couldn't stay away." Viola raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I probably stink," he said apologetically. "I drove for five hours, and–"

Viola lunged ahead, and hopped, trying to reach his neck. He caught her, and hoisted her up, and they kissed. Hard. He was going very, very hard, and she moaned, and wrapped her legs around him, squeezing him tightly. His curls felt dusty in her hands, and she grabbed and pulled, baring his throat to her. He did taste salty, and she could smell more of his skin under the usual cologne - and she groaned and twisted, pushing off his jacket. She winced away from him, and writhed, trying to pull her arms out of her sleeves. He muttered something, she was sure this would be his last attempt to slow them down, and she bit his ear, snaked her hand between their bodies, and jerked the buckle on his jeans. He snarled loudly, turned, and slammed her back into a wall. He probably wasn't conscious enough to understand that they needed to take off her top to push off the bottoms, but he helped, and as soon as he saw - and immediately tasted - the skin between her breasts, he made a hoarse pained sound, a growl with his teeth gritted and bared, which she knew meant the last shred of his self-control had slipped.

***

"Good thing Fenton's not here," he rasped out, his forehead pressed into the wall near her temple.

Viola hung limply, her arms around his neck, all her extremities shaking from exhaustion and the multiple crisis still echoing in her body. He groaned, and took a step back away from the wall, and started keeling over. He grabbed the archway frame with one hand, still supporting her under her backside with another one.

He turned and carefully put her down on the kitchen table. Viola started falling forward, as if there were no bones in her body, and he gently held her by her shoulder.

"Actually, you were screaming so much, it's a good thing it's a freestanding building," he said with a warm laugh, and Viola gave him a dazed smile. "You look properly knackered, love," he murmured and tenderly brushed his thumb to the corner of her mouth.

Viola moaned, unable to form words, and stretched her arms to him. He chuckled, picked her up - she embraced him around his neck loosely - and carried her to her bed. He helped her to climb under the duvet, and she was asleep before he left for the shower.

***

She woke up with a startle, and heard water running in the bathroom. She couldn't have been asleep for more than ten minutes. She stretched in the bed and listened to her body - and then following the clear demand it had placed, she climbed off the bed and headed to the bathroom.

She stuck her head in - and laughed at the view of him struggling to fit under the shower head.

"Now I get it why everything is ridiculously oversized in your cottage," she said teasingly, and he pushed his wet hair off his face and looked at her.

"I'm a large man," he said, and Viola giggled.

"I know," she drew out suggestively and approached the shower in a few bouncy steps.

"Joining me?" he asked eagerly.

"I wonder if there's enough room, to be honest," she said. "But I do need to wash. Besides just being covered in... you, I think I have sand screeching in my teeth. Maybe even cement."

"It's clay," he said. "We're working on the East bank of Snell this month."

"Clay? Lovely. It's beneficial for one's complexion," she said and pushed the sliding shower door open, just enough to quickly slip in.

He immediately grabbed her, pawing all her soft and squishy parts, making her squeal and laugh. She couldn't remember if he'd ever been that playful and silly before, even when they'd just started dating - but what did it matter? He was now, and she enjoyed it so much!

"God, I missed you," he murmured, pulling her against him, and cupping her bottom. "I respect your process, Vi, but staying away from all this– and your delicious arse– It's a bloody torture!"

Viola snorted and picked up her loofah and her shower gel.

"May I?" he asked, opening his palm.

He lathered the loofah and started gently washing her. At some point he knelt down, his palms and the washcloth stroking her skin, without leaving even the smallest patch unattended. He was drawing soft little circles on her left knee, when she heard him say quietly, "I mean it, Vi. I just– It was tough."

"I missed you too," she said softly, moving a few heavy wet strands off his forehead.

"Yeah, but it's not– not the same, Vi." He looked up at her. "You don't get it. This– You know, I can't talk about it well. The feelings, and– I just–" He made a disgruntled noise in his throat. "What I'm saying is, I reckon, I didn't have you for ten years, and I– I mean, it was fine. But it's like I forgot what it's like to be with you, and then I– had you again. For a day... and then you were gone again."

He gave her a half displeased, half apologetic look. Only Rhys Holyoke could express several negative emotions mixed in equal proportions in one glare - and make her heart skip a beat at the same time. Viola knelt down as well and embraced him tightly.

"I'm not gone," she said. "I'm right here."

He wrapped his arms around her, and then dropped on his backside, and settled her on his lap.

"I didn't think you'd come back, you know," he muttered, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. "It's not like I moped and waited for you, or something. But now, it's like those ten years never happened, like– I was fine," he added almost defensively, and she rubbed his forearm in a comforting gesture. "I mean, I worked, and– It was alright. A normal life, you know," he grumbled. "But now you're back, and– I don't want to be without you again. I can't be without you."

The last sentence was nothing more than a whisper, and Viola's eyes stung. To hear him say such things...

He must have misinterpreted her silence - her throat was so constricted she couldn't speak - and added quietly, "I'm not pushing, love. Just saying, you know. You take your time, I just–"

He shrugged in that very Rhys way, and Viola nodded and rubbed her nose to his chest.

"You keep taking the piss out of me for it, but that's just how my noggin works, you know," he said. "Like I knew after one date. It's the same. I saw you in Nana's kitchen, and I knew."

Viola shifted and met his eyes. Emotions splashed in his electric blue irises.

"I reckon that's why I get jealous, and behave like a tosser. Because it just makes sense to me. You and me," he said with another shrug. "Always did. So when Fenton starts circling you, or it looks like you don't care, I get angry. Because I can't convince you, I know that. You might be quiet, but I know how hard-arse you are." He chuckled. "But sometimes I just lose my patience, you know, because what else can I do? I mean, the flowers, and the karaoke, and the bloody skating, and– But I just have to wait and see what you decide... and it's a fucking pain."

She wanted to tell him that neither the flowers, nor the karaoke, and not even the skating - aside from saving a man's life - were what could convince her. It was about the vulnerability written in his face at the moment, and the small kiss when they'd run into each other at the Hall, and the way he'd held her when she'd cried in the cemetery.

And then she thought it didn't need saying. It was his character, the Rhys underneath, that had convinced her - and of course, she had been convinced! - to come back to him, and the real Rhys wasn't going anyway. Meanwhile, if he felt like buying more flowers and continuing with the gestures and the romantic outings, why would she discourage him?

She cupped his face and led him to her lips. He sighed into a kiss, and then shivered.

"We're out of hot water," he grumbled.

"Let's go to bed," Viola answered and smiled at him. "We'll keep each other warm."