Gorge walking was invented by humans with a death wish.

I am completely and utterly terrified.

It's all fun and games in the calm water, as we wade through up to our waists, but then the instructor warns of a waterfall, and the next moment I’m standing at the edge looking down into a frothing, swirling, bubbling hole of water that wants to suck me to my doom.

Despite this, I'm giggling and laughing like it’s the best fun ever.

Rhys and Max are at the front of our group, both soaked to the bone and laughing like loons, while Mum and our instructor chuckle at their antics.

Galen is behind me, and he looks like he’s being made to endure hell on earth. For a boy who dragged me on every crazy ride when we went to the fairground and didn’t bat an eyelid—not even on the corkscrew coaster—his fear of the slippery climbs and deep drops is somewhat amusing, even though I should be feeling bad for him.

Every time we wade into rougher water, his back stiffens, and his hands seize the guide-line for dear life. His eyes widen dramatically and almost bug out of his head.

We’re boulder hopping towards a small waterfall that we’re about to climb when I lose my footing and slip. I rush to grab onto his life vest, my other hand clinging tightly to the guide-line, and the extra weight has him toppling and falling under the current, dragging me with him. Frigid water rushes over my head, and I scramble on the river bed to find purchase with my feet. We both push our heads above the surface at the same time, spluttering and choking on Brecon’s finest spring water.

Mum, Max and Rhys, catcall and holler at us, enjoying our misfortune, and our instructor makes his way back to us with a broad smile.

“The first dunk is the hardest. Don’t listen to them lot,” he throws his thumb over his shoulder to the others. “They’ll get dunked soon enough.”

“Can’t wait,” Galen mutters, wiping the water out of his face before hauling himself back up on the boulder and holding out his hand for me to take.

"We’re going to die out here, Fflur,” he says, when the instructor walks away. His voice deadly serious. I clamber up onto the boulder, and when I get my footing, I elbow him lightly with a snort, and he wobbles, but at least he smiles.

"Don't worry," I tell him teasingly. "You can hold my hand. I'll save you."

Rhys and Mum bark out a laugh, and Max joins in, too. It's the first time I've seen all three of them share the same joke.

They realise this too, and Max and Mum share a secret smile.

"This was a great idea," Max exclaims, stretching his arms wide as water rushes past him. "Fresh air, exercise, and getting to experience all the natural beauty of our glorious country."

Max is right. Being able to see parts of my country this way, exploring a hidden Wales, is like opening a chest full of treasure.

A myriad of plants and flowers line the banks of the river, ones you usually find on mountains and in meadows, drawn by the lush green grass and life-giving water.

When the instructor announces we’re about to come upon our biggest waterfall yet, Galen grabs my hand, linking his fingers through mine.

"Well," he says with his trademark smirk. "You said you’d save me."

His smile morphs into a grimace as we make our way to the edge and look down into the rapidly swirling water below.

Max jumps in first, followed by Rhys with an almighty, ‘Whoop.’ And Mum isn’t far behind. We look down at them all, bobbing in the water as they make their way towards the bank, and even their shouts of encouragement do nothing to boost Galen’s confidence.

“You can jump in together if you want,” the instructor says. “Just keep to the centre where it’s deepest.”

I look at Galen and he nods his head once, his face pale, his eyes terrified.

“Relax, Gal. I’ve got you,” I say, using the same words he’s told me numerous times.

Bright blue meets lawn green, and we jump.

The moment seems to last forever but is still over too soon, and Galen's hand releases mine as we hit the water with a bone-crunching splash.

I emerge before him, with Gal popping up moments later, a shaky grin on his face.

“We did it,” he yells over the roar of the waterfall.

Yes, we did.

As we join the others and clamber up onto the bank to have a break and a quick drink, I mourn the loss of his hand in mine.

I tell myself that I'm glad it's over, but the voice in my heart calls me a liar.

'You liked holding his hand. You liked it a lot.'

I beg it to stop saying these things. 'No. I can't feel this way.' But the voice in my heart whispers back, 'Don't be stupid. He’s not Rhys.'

I'm quiet for the rest of day until we make our way back to the adventure centre and the bunkrooms, nobody noticing my mood change as they all ride the high of our exhilarating day.

We all grab hot showers, and arrange to meet in an hour for food, but I must be quicker than everyone else because when I step into the common room, nobody is here. Taking the opportunity to have a few minutes on my own, I leave the centre to explore the grounds, and find a pretty area beneath some oak trees, with a babbling brook just off to the side.

Rhys finds me about half hour later.

"What's up, Flower?" It's the first time he’s called me Flower in months. His hands are behind his back, and I nod towards them in inquiry.

"What have you got?"

"Nothing." He smiles.

"What's behind your back, Rhys?"

He slowly pulls his arm around and proudly presents me with a Digitalis Purpurea, more commonly known as a Foxglove.

"It's beautiful." I smile at the two-foot long stem in his hand, tipped with spheres of pink bells. "But did you know that it can be poisonous?"

He drops the gift like it’s hot.

"Even fatal?"

He turns white.

I can't help but laugh, and I push myself up to walk towards the discarded foxglove.

I gently grasp the middle of the long stem and bring the fragrant blooms close to my nose. With a deep inhale, I smile at my brother, and he just shakes his head.

"I only came to tell you that dinner is ready. I was sent to collect you."

"What are we having? I’m starving."

"Scrambled egg and baked beans on toast. Max burnt the toast on the kitchen grill, though."

I step alongside him and lean my head against his shoulder. "What's going on with you?" I ask. The difference in him today is welcomed but unexpected.

His hair is still wet from the river, and he tilts his head towards mine. It's a strange thing for my brother to do, as he doesn't tend to show emotions this way.

"I'm an arsehole," he admits almost hoarsely.

"Uh-huh, you can say that again."

"I'm an arsehole."

We both laugh, but then he adds quietly, "I don't know how to change."

I wrap my free hand around his waist and push my cheek into his bicep.

"Yeah, you do. It’s not hard."

"I'm fucking up everything lately."

"Everything?"

"Rebecca dumped me. Said I was too moody."

"I didn't even know you had a girlfriend, but I'm sorry, that’s crappy."

We don't tend to have conversations like this, and we're headed into unknown and rather uncomfortable territory.

He doesn't feel awkward, though, because he keeps going.

"Take some advice from your big brother. If you ever get a boyfriend, don't dump him a couple of days after the first time you do it."

"It? Oh... it."

We both go quiet then. I don't know what’s appropriate to say to that.

Feeling the need to break the silence, I say, "Cheers, bro. That’s… insightful."

"While we're over-sharing," he says with a grin on his face. "You know you can talk to me about anything."

I nudge him with my elbow. "Look at you, changing already. Soon you’ll be all grown up. Not an arsehole in sight."

He wraps his arm around my shoulders and brings me in tight against his big body. We stay like this all the way back to the centre.

I carry the Foxglove the entire time.

After we eat, Max tries to embarrass Galen with funny stories from his childhood, and Mum joins in and tries the same with Rhys and me. It's not long before we all make excuses to go to our bunks to get away from their cackling laughter and our mortification.

My tiny room is opposite the one that Rhys and Galen share. They tossed a coin for the top bunk earlier, and Rhys was over the moon to have won.

An hour or so after climbing into the tiny single bed, and despite having muscles ache that I never even knew I had before, I still can't sleep. Someone in a nearby room is snoring, and the noise is grating on my nerves.

The soft snick of my door opening echoes in the small room, and I sit bolt upright in panic, my heart galloping crazily in my chest.

Galen pushes his head around the door, the dim light of the hallway softening his features, and I bring my hand to my chest to soothe my racing emotions.

He's wearing an old Stone Roses T-shirt and loose sports shorts. He grins at me in that cocky way that's all his.

"Why are you coming in here? Go back to your own room," I hiss.

"Rhys snores," he answers simply.

"There's not enough room for you in here," I half whisper half shout.

"Don't be daft. There's plenty. Just shuffle up."

I roll onto my side, my back up against the cold wall, all the while thinking of the Foxglove that I've left on the grass outside, and wishing it wasn't poisonous so I could have it in here with me now.

His cold feet touch mine, causing me to shiver, as he deftly slides under my covers

"Keep your cold feet away from me."

He ignores that comment, makes himself comfy and says, "What shall we talk about?"

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Well, it's dark, nobody can see us, so we can talk about anything."

My traitorous heart whispers, ‘Ask him. Ask him.'

"Okay, I'll start with the juicy stuff. How many girlfriends have you had?"

Why did I ask him that?

I shouldn't care, and really shouldn’t have asked that question.

"Who said I've had any?"

An unladylike snort bursts from my mouth. "You’re bound to have had some. All the girls I know fancy you."

I blush, even though the room is dark and neither of us can properly see the other. I feel the warmth of his breath as his head turns to face me.

"I shouldn't have said that," I all but stutter.

He laughs. "Trust me, Fflur. I bet you have more boys lusting after you, than I do girls chasing me."

I wish I were holding my Foxglove.

"I met a girl at Gareth's place last week," he says casually.

That's the week I stayed with Dad.

"He had a party because his parents were away. Anyway, she's pretty cool."

My body stills. I don't even breathe, and wrack my brain trying to think of something to say that won't sound breathy or foolish and settle on, "Great."

He answers with a heavy breath, "Yeah. She's... cool."

"What's her name? Maybe I know her." As soon as the words are out I know I sound too interested.

"Laurie."

"Same age as you?"

I can feel his head move as he nods. "Yeah, but she goes to the Catholic school."

"That explains it. I’ve heard those girls are boy crazy." I know I sound beyond catty.

He silent for a moment and I wish he'd never come in here and we'd never had this stupid conversation.

"What about you?" he asks, changing the subject from him to me. "How many boyfriends have you had?"

If I say none, I’ll look lame. So, instead I go with, "There're a couple of guys I like."

Take that. Even though it’s a lie. There’s one guy. One.

“Oh,” is all he says in response, and I guess this conversation is finally over.

With silence surrounding us, Galen drifts off to sleep, and for at least an hour, I lie there and listen to his breathing. But sleep doesn’t come for me, and I carefully crawl out of the bed, going to great lengths not to touch him.

I grab my trainers, phone and hoody, and sneak across the hallway to the room he was supposed to share with Rhys. Once inside, I look at the top bunk and see my brother's bare foot sticking out of his covers.

I pull at his big toe, and he shoots upright, mumbling about killer plants, but as soon as he sees it's me, he shakes his head and blinks into the darkness.

"What's wrong, Flower?" he asks as we make our way towards the spot where he found me earlier.

"Nothing. Just didn't want to be on my own."

"Something on your mind, Fflur?"

I turn to look at him, his handsome profile in the shadows as the light of the moon dapples his face.

"Do you ever feel so insignificant that you wonder if you'll disappear?"

He looks at me and his brow furrows, and I can see he’s processing his thoughts.

"When Mum first left,” he begins, stretching high to pull a leaf from one of the trees. “All I felt was anger. I was furious, livid even, and I had a thousand questions I wanted to demand answers to, but my anger wouldn't let me ask any of them."

He lets the leaf fall to the ground and stretches to grab another, higher up the branch, and the tree rustles in protest.

"I felt like I wasn't good enough, and, like you, some days I felt so weak, so small, that I wondered if anyone would notice if I just left. Like Mum did. If I got out of bed one day and decided I didn’t want to do this anymore, would anyone even care?"

I dig my bare feet into the cold grass and admit I feel like that right now. "I don't feel good enough most of the time.” I snort and correct myself. “Okay, almost all of the time.”

"What else is on your mind, Fflur? You didn't drag me out of my bed to tell me you sometimes hate our situation. Something's eating you, and it isn't what happened with Mum and Dad."

I look at him, and I want to admit the whispers of my heart, but I can't. I can't even admit them to myself.

We're quiet for a long time, watching wisps of clouds float across the moon, and listening to the stillness of the night.

Weariness eventually settles over me and Rhys hooks his arm around my shoulder.

"You can tell me anything. You know that, right?"

I nod.

"C'mon," he says, steering me back towards the centre. "Let's get some shuteye. I bet they'll drag us out at the crack of dawn. Max has booked us for a day of caving or potholing, whatever the hell he called it.”

I quietly sneak back into my room, and find Galen fast asleep on his back and taking up most of the bed.

I could go and crawl into his empty one, and suffer Rhys’ snoring, but, after almost confessing my sins to my brother, I could use the comfort of Galen next to me.

My feet are muddy, and I don't realise how cold they are until I attempt to climb back into my bed.

Galen stirs and mumbles sleepily, "Bloody hell, Fflur, you're freezing."

"I'm fine," I mutter.

He tugs me closer, tangles his legs with mine, and wraps his arms around my shivering body.

"Relax,” he whispers sleepily. “I'll keep you warm."

My body stiffens.

"Relax, Fflur. I've got you."

My cold and rigid body eventually relaxes into him.

"Better?"

"Yes, but I'm going to make you cold."

He leans over me, the warmth of his chest pressing into the cold of mine, and tucks the back of the blanket around my back and under my body.

My traitorous heart refuses to ignore the connection of our bodies, and I go rigid once more. I squeeze my eyes shut and repeat the scientific names for all my favourite flowers over and over in my head, like counting sheep.

Bellis perennis.

Glebionis coronaria.

Taraxacum.

I'm wide awake and toasty warm.

It's the dark of night, so I know I haven't slept for long.

Galen is still asleep, and his chest rises and falls steadily. His arm slung lightly around my waist.

I'm glad he's still sleeping or else he might be able to feel the clanging of my heart against my ribs, as I struggle to take a full breath. Or the way my legs shiver when I feel the graze of his coarse hairs against my smooth skin.

My mind wanders to all the used tissues I found in his bedroom.

I shut those thoughts down as my body heats all over.

Eventually, sleep claims me once more as I fade away under the warm weight of his hold.