Here's how it should have gone:

Tasmania appears before us, a shining emerald against the blue of the sea and sky. We hug and celebrate as we watch the island draw closer, beckoning us towards her.

We sail into the blue bay, a light breeze tugging at the sails as we cruise up to the dock. I alight on the jetty, the wind catching my hair, Rueben's arm around my waist. A knowing smile lifts my lips as we straddle the bikes and head off in search of the farm.

The gates welcome us as we turn up the sunny driveway. My feet are sure on the pedals, my Lycra-clad butt lifted high in the air as I power up towards the main house. My clothing hugs my body in the right way; I am all toned curves and powerful lines.

At the house, my family is sitting on the wide veranda, sipping tea. My mother rises. "My god... Karla? Is that you?"

My parents run to me and hold me tightly. My brother is close behind, while his children dance around us in circles.

Finally, Dean approaches. "Oh wow... Baby girl, you look incredible."

"Do I?" I say innocently, placing my hands on my newly slimmed hips.

"Yeah. God... I never should have let you go."

And with my family and clan watching, I smile and say, "That's nice. Now, get the fuck out of here."

His awe turns to shock; he drops to his knees. "Karla, please..."

I tell my family, "This man abused me for years. I don't ever want to see his face again."

"But where will I go?"

"Not my problem." I stand over him as he scurries out of the gates.

"Please, baby girl... We can fix this. I still love you!"

My eyes narrow. "Don't you get it?" I say, echoing his final words to me from years before. "I can never be with someone like you."

Everyone cheers as he scampers away into the wild. I stride up to Rueben and he picks me up effortlessly, spinning me around in pride before kissing me deeply...

But just like everything that had happened since that Tuesday when the world fell apart, reality didn't quite match up to my imagination.

For starters, we didn't sail up to Tasmania; we almost sailed into Tasmania.

After collapsing into bed the previous night, brimming with gratitude for every breath, I'd woken up agitated and exhausted. As I pulled on my Lulu's, the only cleanish garment I owned, they snagged and something ripped. "Are you kidding me?" I whispered weakly to myself. Of course they'd torn, and of course, it was across the seam of my butt cheek.

Thank god for long tee-shirts... I pulled on my stupid 'sheep happens' tee, then donned the knitted men's cardigan Rueben had loaned me the night before. "You saved my daughter," he'd said, pushing it at me as I shrugged out of my sodden flannel shirt. "You have to let me start making it up to you."

It smelled like him, of salt and sweetness, and as I sniffed at the sleeve, I encountered a vivid flashback of Rueben and me in my tent, his fingers between my thighs, his mouth on my nipple, as I moaned and-

"Woman!" Bailey's face appeared around my bedroom door. "Don't think just because you nearly died a wretched death lost at sea means you get out of sailing duties. Rueben needs us."

We padded through the kitchen. "Where's Mish?" I asked.

"Still in bed."

"It's good to see you out of bed, Bailes."

"Don't get too excited," they said dryly, handing me a fruit and nut pack. "I'm only helping out until we get safely to the farm. Then I have firm plans to find a cave in the woods and become a mad hermit."

"Sure, sure, sounds delightful." I wacked their behind as we climbed the stairs, ignoring the hermit comment out of gladness to have my friend back.

The day met us, cold and clammy. A thick mist hung on the water, shrouding the sky and obscuring our view; we could barely see a few feet in every direction. Rueben was on deck, busily winding and winching, and he smiled at me as we approached. "Hey!"

"Hey." I was suddenly shy in the face of his delight. His hands gripped the anchor rope, and I studied his fingers with open desire. Had his hands and arms always been so sexy? Had almost dying given my libido fresh life?

"So, you can see the weather is a bit heavy today," said Rueben, crossing to the wheel. "We'll need to keep our eyes peeled so we don't run into anything."

Bailey snorted. "Run into what? A stray mermaid? Tapdancing octopuses?"

"Rocks," said Rueben. "We're getting closer to the coast now. Now, the rules state that the sassiest crew member gets the worst jobs, so Karla, you can play lookout, and Bailey, I'll need you on the lines."

I expected Bailey to throw a tantrum and storm back to their room, but surprisingly, they just rolled their eyes and said, "Look at you, Mr BDE. Whatever," before striding to the opposite end of the deck and winding a line in.

"What did you do to Bailey?" I asked quietly, seating myself next to Rueben with a grin. "I don't think I've ever seen them back down, especially considering they were suicidal two days ago."

"It wasn't me." Ruben leaned towards me, and I felt my body respond to his nearness. "It was you. When you went overboard, Bailey was like ferocious animal. They charged up here, followed instructions, did everything I asked, worked like hell. They were terrified you were lost because of their laziness."

"Look, firing Bailey up wasn't my intent when I dove overboard, but it's a nice side effect. And I like that you two have bonded."

"I think we're friends now. Bailey reminds me of a mate I had in high school, actually. I thought this guy hated me, but then at our year twelve formal, he got hammered, ended up telling me how much he admired me."

"Ha, that was totally me at my formal. Except I got trashed and ended up telling the most popular girl in our year that we all knew she'd had a nose job."

"Really? Her parents let her do that?"

"Oh yeah, nose jobs were all the rage at my high school. A few boob jobs too."

"See, this is why every school should have a therapist on site. It's not that I don't believe in cosmetic surgery, but young people are being bombarded with beauty standards and are making permanent choices about their lives and appearances before they even know who they are. I pitched a program to a private Sydney boys' college about this..."

Rueben and I chatted easily, drifting through light topics and meandering down odd conversational paths. As he steered us through the fog, I said, "This is nice."

"What is?"

"Chatting about nothing. Like, this feels like the kind of discussion we might have had when we'd first met; if the world hadn't fallen apart, and my company had won your business, and we'd gone out for a few drinks with everyone to celebrate, and you and I ended up sitting on a bench away from the noise for a few minutes, doing the early digging to find out if we liked each other, if we were compatible, if we'd like to spend more time together."

Rueben smiled at me. "We kind of missed that bit, huh?"

"Bypassed in favour of life and death scenarios, deep exposition into our romantic histories and some very awkward chats about my sexual gratification." I turned away from monitoring the foggy water to focus on him. "It feels like we've come full circle."

"So, what would you have decided?"

"About?"

"About me. If this was our first real discussion. Would you have said yes if I'd asked you out?"

I sensed that the answer was extremely important, and I prepared my words with care. "Before all of this? I don't know. I was a different person, still broken over Dean. Even if you'd asked me out, I wouldn't have believed it was real. I probably would have misconstrued your interest, thought that you were kidding or had a weird motive. And to be honest, Rueben, you wouldn't have asked me out anyway. You weren't ready either – you were still invested in not getting hurt again and protecting Mish at all costs."

"And what about now?" He stared into me, his eyes intent. "Now, that we're both different. What would you say if I asked you out?"

"I..." The intensity in his gaze was too much for me, and I turned my face back to the sea. Squinting, I said, "I... think I see something."

"What?"

"Rocks? Rocks!"

They were frighteningly close, a grey mass looming over us out of the gloom. "Hold on!" yelled Rueben as he spun the wheel hard to the right. Bailey and I clutched at the rails and the yacht lurched drunkenly on its side. A sound like giants' fingernails shrieked from the port side, a grinding, metallic sound that poured liquid fear through my intestines.

It was over in only seconds. Bailey dashed downstairs to check on Mischa and the animals, while Rueben and I steered a path through the vindictive rocks that emerged like grasping fingers from the water. "Welcome to Tasmania," I muttered as the coastline intermittently appeared through the mist. After all the fuss getting here, the least this damn state could do was greet us pleasantly, but it was apparently too much to ask for.

Bailey stuck their head above deck. "Mish's fine, but it looks like we're taking on water."

"Oh, god." My fingers clenched in terror. "We're sinking?"

Rueben ducked briefly below and emerged with a plan. "Okay, yes, we've got a leak, but it's slow. We've got a few hours before the water becomes a real problem down there, so we need to find somewhere to dock and get our gear onto dry land ASAP. As long as we find an inlet, we should find a wharf."

"Sure. Okay." Fark. Farkity fark fark.

We sailed along the coast, Rueben checking the maps and comparing landmarks to work out where we were. Tasmania was small for an Australian state, but landing on the wrong side of the island would cost us days in extra travel time and our clan was exhausted down to the marrow as it was.

Just as the water started to edge past ankle-depth on the lower deck, Bailey called out from the bow. "Is that an inlet?"

"Sure as hell is," said Rueben, with a relief that revealed to me that he'd been way more worried that he'd been letting on. With a smile at Mischa who'd joined us above deck, he steered us into the narrow channel, which felt almost claustrophobic compared to the open ocean. Houses and shops flanked the slender river, and people - the first people we'd seen in almost a week besides each other - walked around on shore.

"Hello!" Mish yelled out to an older woman who strolled along the beach with her dog. "Please, we're sinking a bit! Can you help us?"

She sprang into life, pointing and animated. "Yes! Keep going upstream, and you'll get to the yacht club – tell Bertie that you need a dry dock, he'll look after you."

"Thank you!"

"Please! Can you tell us where we are?" I cried.

"This is Ulverstone, honey, about 20 kilometres from Davenport."

I snatched the map up, scanning desperately. Where are we...? I searched with my finger for Davenport, following the coastline until I found the tiny blue thread representing the inlet and the red dot showing the township of Ulverstone. And just next to it, one more wide bight around the bend, was Preservation Bay. "Oh my god," I sobbed.

"What? How bad is it?" asked Bailey, resigned to the worst.

"Not bad. Good! Amazing!" I clutched at Bailey's jacket. "We're less than an hour's ride!"

"Are you kidding me?"

"No way!"

"We're there! We're there!" The four of us danced in a circle, crying, laughing, hugging. Thanks, Neptune. I owe you one.

We lurched into Bertie's little yacht club, which was a deceptively fancy name for the half a dozen berths and a single, empty dry dock. After some fast pleading on our part, Bertie allowed us to steer into the slings in exchange for the last bottle of bourbon from Simon's collection. The Great Escape's journey complete, and ours was almost at an end too.

Nothing in my life had felt as glorious as leaping off the yacht and onto dry land. The thrill lasted for all of an hour; as we unpacked our gear, I started to feel nauseous, and I wasn't alone. Bailey was pale too. "Why do I want to vomit?" they asked.

"Reverse seasickness," said Rueben. "It sometimes happens after you've spent extended time at sea."

"Sailing," said Bailey, turning green and rushing for a garbage pail. "The gift that keeps on giving."

"Don't vomit, or I'll vomit," I warned.

"Too late."

While Bailey filled up the pail, I threw up into the sand beside the dry dock, splattering sick everywhere, including on my tee and Rueben's cardigan sleeve. Perfect. I washed off what I could with the briny water of the river, which left me stained and salty and still smelling of vomit.

After Bailey and I had settled our stomachs, we loaded up the bikes. My butt complained vociferously at being rammed back on the loathsome saddle again, but I reassured myself. Just one more hour. I could do this.

The mist turned into a downpour as we pushed off. There was a reason Tassie was known for its rolling green hills, but the verdant colour clearly came at a cost. The rain cloaked us, turning what was supposed to be a one hour ride to the farm into a miserable, chilly, three hour slog.

My brother didn't even have the decency to buy a property in a valley. Instead, we were forced to dismount and trudge up a hill that rivalled the mountain pass we'd tackled the first day out of Sydney. Even Mischa was moaning, and that child had endured far worse without a single complaint.

Finally. The hill levelled out, and a set of thick wooden gates greeted us. A wooden sign with burned letters exclaimed far too enthusiastically, Welcome! You have arrived at Green Haven! Press the buzzer to open the gate.

Collectively we rolled our eyes at the suggestion of using an electrically powered device. "I guess we need to climb," I said, testing the weight of the wooden struts.

Bailey said, "Actually, maybe this is a one-person job – a family member they're expecting? The last time we tried to break through closed gates, we almost got shot."

"Ah." I'd nearly forgotten the caravan park and Bev's shotgun. "Sure. I'll go up first. Once I've said hi, I'll come back for you guys."

"Don't forget us," said Rueben, a half-smile on his face.

"Never."

While Mischa let Bella out of her carrier and Rueben checked on Chookie, Bailey helped me wheel my bike to the grass beside the gate, saying in a low voice, "You know, you don't have to talk to that dick until we're there to support you."

"I know. But maybe it's better this way. Maybe I need to do this on my own." The final test, to be able to confront Dean as my own woman, a warrior who didn't need a cheer squad to say what needed to be said.

I began to climb the gate, gripping the rough, round wood tightly. My foot slipped, and Rueben rushed to support my legs. "Uh, Karla?"

"Yes, I know. You can see my butt, right?"

"I just wanted to make sure you knew." He paused, then added, "I'm definitely not complaining."

My grin carried me over the top, but then I lost my grip and slid down the other side, coming to rest flat on my stomach in the middle of a mud puddle. "Oh, what. The. Actual."

"That's a spa treatment, don't you know?" said Bailey, covering up a snicker.

"Thanks." I smiled thinly at my clan. "Back soon."

I trudged up the long, soggy driveway, covered in slick dirt and vomit, bedraggled, wearing the world's most idiotic tee, with my ass cheeks hanging out of the back of my tights. Exactly how I'd always pictured confronting Dean...

By the time I'd reached the cluster of cabins at the end of the drive, I was shivering. "Hello?" I called out. No one was sipping tea on the veranda of the main house. No one appeared to be around at all.

As I tried to figure out which cabin belonged to my parents, a figure appeared from behind a large shed, staggering slightly under the weight of a load of wood. His arms bulged as he carried the firewood towards the cabins, and through the rain I squinted to try and identify him. Dean...?

Am I ready for this? A showdown alone in the rain with the man who'd almost destroyed me? I squared my shoulders and thought about everything else I'd endured in the last few weeks: riding up a mountain, smashing a tooth, watching a friend die, risking my life multiple times. I could do all of that. I could do this.

"Hey!" I called out, forcing my voice to be strong, clear, authoritative.

The man nearly dropped his wood stack. "Who's there?" He swung to face me. "Karla?"

"Brayden?" Not Dean. My stupid brother. The last person I'd thought about seeing. I'd pictured this reunion so many times, and it always involved Dean, my mum and my dad, with Brayden and his family somewhere in the background.

We'd been tight as kids, be we hadn't gotten along in years, not since I found out that he'd warned Dean away from me as teenagers; I'd never truly forgiven him for that. He'd gotten married, had a mess of kids, moved across a literal sea, and we'd drifted even further apart.

But to my great surprise, he dropped the wood and ran over to me, tears bright in his eyes. "Oh my god, you're here! You made it!" His big arms wrapped me up, and he hugged me hard. "Holy hell, little sis, I didn't believe that you'd make it!"

"You doubted me?" I laughed through my own tears, warmth flooding me.

"I was worried for you." He held me at arm's length, his face awash with delight and curiosity. "How did you get here? Are you okay? Did you bring anyone else?"

"Bike and yacht, I'm as okay as I can be, and yes, I've got a few clan members waiting by the gates."

The rain had eased as we'd hugged, and a few weak beams of sun broke through the clouds, a hopeful light dappling the ground where we stood. Brayden said, "You've got people waiting? Let's go let them in!"

"Wait, Brayden." I took a ragged breath. "I think I should speak to Dean first." It had to be now. I was ready.

A dark shadow passed over my brother's face. "Let's go get your people first."

"But I really need to talk to Dean."

Brayden steered me back along the driveway. "We need to talk about Dean."

"Okay."

As we squelched through the mud, Brayden looped his arm through mine. "I owe you an apology."

"What? Why?" I was slightly horrified. My brother never apologised for anything; unreasonable confidence was his hallmark.

He sniffed. "I should have told you some stuff years ago, and I didn't."

"What stuff?"

"Stuff about Dean." My brother scratched underneath his woollen beanie. "I knew from when we were teenagers that he treated the girls he dated badly. No, not badly – like trash. Like they were disposable, only there to serve him. He used to manipulate them into bed, then toss them away and laugh about it. It... It wasn't right."

I couldn't speak. This was like hearing the other side of a conversation I'd been waiting my whole life to catch up on.