She jogged into the undergrowth before I could stop her.
Goddammit, this girl.
When I first met her, she’d come across shy and aloof; now, the depth of caring she possessed annoyed me because she made me feel as if I was lacking as an average human being.
Crunching and crackling drifted on the stagnant air.
What the hell is she doing in there?
Visions of a cooling sea breeze and fresh air made me eager to leave the soupy humidity of the forest. The more I thought of relocating to the beach, the more anxious I was to go.
Estelle was gone a while.
She finally returned with two more sticks (not they could be called sticks when they were the size of small saplings) of approximately equal length. One had a kink in it but, overall, was straight, while the other had a bulbous end as if it had been a root system once upon a time.
Passing them to me, she smiled. “Here you go.”
My forehead furrowed. “Oh, you shouldn’t have.”
Stop being an asshole.
I made eye contact. “Um, thanks?”
She crossed her arms. “They’re crutches. At least, this way you can move around—or as much as you can on the uneven terrain. They’re probably a bit long but we can fix them once we get to the beach.”
My eyes bugged. “Seriously? Who are you? MacGyver?”
Instead of laughing, her eyes blackened with annoyance. “Instead of belittling my idea, let’s go.” Grabbing the other stick from beside me, she wedged her tiny frame against mine. “Use one of the crutches and put the rest of your weight on me.”
Oh, hell no.
I pushed her away. “No chance. I’ll crush you. Look at the size of you.”
“I can do it.”
“Your ribs can’t. No way.”
“Those painkillers will dull some of it. I might be smaller than you, but I’m strong.” She grabbed my free arm and slung it over her shoulders. Sucking in a breath, her face waxed with pain. “Come on. I don’t want to leave Conner and Pippa any longer than necessary. Who knows if their self-control will obey me when I said not to eat the small amount of food we found.”
“Food?” My stomach grumbled on command. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”
She hissed as I gingerly put my weight on her.
I immediately stopped. “This is ridiculous.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Well, no...”
“Exactly.” Tugging on my wrist, she braced herself against the palm tree and yanked upright.
“Christ.” She didn’t give me a choice. I growled and swore as inch by inch she slid my crippled ass higher up the tree trunk and into a wobbling standing position. My muttered oaths became amplified as my ankle twisted, bellowing with torture. “Fuck me.”
“I’d appreciate it if you kept the curses to a minimum.”
“You try moving with a broken everything, and we’ll see who can keep their speech PG rated.”
She snorted. “You’re such a drama llama.”
I turned rigid. “What did you just call me?”
“A drama llama.” A smirk teased her lips. “I saw it online awhile back. I thought it was kind of funny.”
“Did you seriously just call me a llama?”
“Well, you did say you’d been called worse.”
“Not a bloody barn animal.”
Wedging the crutch under my free arm, she took a step back. I didn’t even notice I’d borne my own weight until she spread her hands in triumph. “First time for everything. Besides, it worked, didn’t it? You’re standing. Best news all day.”
You can say that again.
I flinched as she wrapped an arm around my waist.
My blood thickened as my heart rate accelerated. Different urges replaced thoughts of pain. I wanted to crush her to me and inhale the faint smell of vanilla. I wanted to lick the salt from her skin and thank her in kisses rather than words.
When I didn’t move, she pinched my side. “Come on. Let’s go. What are you waiting for?”
“If I told you, you wouldn’t want to help me.”
Her face tilted up, her eyes wide with questions. “Oh? Try me.” She looked so innocent and eager that it took everything to grin with cockiness rather than overwhelming sincerity.
“Try you?” My voice slipped into a caress; my gaze locking onto her mouth. “I appreciate the invitation, Estelle, but I really don’t think I should.”
She jolted. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name without it sounding like a bad thing.”
Sexual tension catapulted around us stronger, faster, far, far more intense than I’d ever felt before. Her arm jerked around my waist.
I slung mine over her shoulders without thinking.
“Want to know what I’m waiting for? Fine, I said I’d be brutally honest. I’ll be honest.” My head lowered, my lips coming within a whisper of hers. “I’m waiting for a kiss. I don’t want to move just in case you realise how close you are to me and run away while I can’t chase you.”
She panted as I battled with the urge of stealing a kiss or doing what was right and honouring the boundaries of first acquaintance.
I looked up at the tree canopy, exhaling heavily. “You have no idea how hard it is to be a gentleman right now.”
She cleared her throat, trembling a little. “I think you’re delirious with pain.”
I snorted. “Let’s go with that if it makes you feel better.”
“It does. It definitely does.”
“So I shouldn’t tell you that I’m hard and I barely even know you? That I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you in Los Angeles?” I lowered my head, nuzzling behind her ear. “I shouldn’t tell you that I wanted to talk to you the entire flight over or that everything about you makes me happy and sad at the same time?”
The thing with having lacklustre eyesight since birth meant my other senses had heightened to compensate. Her smell (while faint) ripped my innards out and made me want to beg for all manner of things. I wanted her naked. I wanted her laughing. I wanted her far away from me so I never destroyed her perfection.
“Why didn’t you?”
I did my best to concentrate. “Why didn’t I what?”
“Come talk to me? Answer honestly this time.”
I reared back. “You can’t guess?”
She held her breath.
And I did the one thing I’d promised myself I wouldn’t do. I treated her like a damn object.
Tightening my hold on her shoulders, I brought her body in line with mine. The moment her breasts squashed against my chest, I couldn’t breathe and when her lower belly wedged against the aching hard-on in my jeans, it took everything I had not to thrust her against the damn palm tree and forget about civilised rules just so I could have one tiny, delicious taste.
Her eyes widened as she felt what I offered. My hips rolled just a little; my broken ankle growling with torment. “Does that answer your question?”
She struggled to speak which clutched my heart and scrambled my thoughts.
“No, not at all.”
“The answer is because when I want something as bad as I want you, nothing good comes of it.” I chuckled harshly. “I hurt those I love and I have no intention of hurting another.”
We both froze at the ‘L’ word. The depth of connection that came with those four little letters wasn’t something either of us wanted to discuss.
I deliberately angled my hips away, holding her at a distance. I needed her to help me walk, but I wouldn’t force myself on her any more than I had.
What a douche-bag thing to do.
We’d finally broken the ice, and I’d ruined it by sprouting all kinds of idiocy.
I groaned under my breath, passing off my stupidity as pain.
Estelle leapt into action, taking a step forward. “How about we forget what just happened and head to the beach...okay?”
“Fine.”
&n
bsp; “Just...let me guide you. Lean on me and use the crutch. I’ll do my best to prevent as much discomfort as I can.”
You’re the cause of most of it.
At least, I managed not to say that out loud.
Nodding, I soundlessly accepted her help. I held her closer than necessary under the guise of using her as transportation. She accepted my closeness without complaint, her fingers tight around my side.
Rearranging the bulbous part of the stick under my arm, I hopped forward hesitantly.
Estelle moved with me, gasping a little as my weight landed then relaxed on her frame.
She didn’t speak, so I didn’t either.
I forced myself to concentrate, not on Estelle and her sexy-perfect strength, but on coordination and the agony of hobbling on an unsupported broken leg.
Shuffle by shuffle, we traded forest for sunshine.
We made our way to the beach that would become our new home.
I just didn’t know how long it would be home for.
If I had known...who knew what I would’ve done differently.
Chapter Fifteen
...............................................
E S T E L L E
......
He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me.
How could a stupid petal tell me the heart of another?
He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me.
How could I fall for stupid lines stolen from others?
He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me.
I don’t believe in love. I do believe in love.
But not with him.
Taken from the notepad of E.E., aged nineteen.
...
I SWALLOWED MY fears for the billionth time and kept my fake smile in place.
We’re not going to make it.
Yes, yes we are.
I couldn’t cry because Conner and Pippa never stopped watching me.
But it didn’t stop my runaway wretchedness.
Galloway’s eyes were like missiles tracking my every move. My skin still tingled where he’d hugged me to hop through the forest. And I couldn’t stop reliving the pressure of his erection on my lower belly. What possessed him to do such a thing? And why didn’t I mind nearly as much as I should?
For the past hour, we’d split one muesli bar between the four of us and washed it down with two mouthfuls of water from the bottle in Duncan’s backpack. We’d found it when we’d foraged for the other bags, littered like candy wrappers a few metres away from the crash site.
We hadn’t found my jacket or Amelia’s tote, but we had found the survival kit that the pilot kept strapped beneath his seat.
The food had been heaven-sent and I’d tried to forgo my mouthfuls of water, stating I’d had some from the storm, but Galloway wouldn’t accept it. The meagre food hadn’t given us much energy—if anything, it had aggravated our hunger and made it worse.
Better get used to it.
After our quick meal, Conner and I had returned to the helicopter and stripped the cabin. We’d hauled back the well-worn leather cushion from the bench seat, three life-jackets, and a piece of mangled fuselage that I envisioned doing something with but had no idea what.
The beach had turned into a wasteland of broken, mismatched items that I hoped would somehow keep us alive.
Sitting on my haunches, I surveyed the spread gear. “We have a few good tools to at least make a shelter.”
I think.
I don’t know.
Galloway scoffed while Conner nodded hopefully.
Pippa sat quietly with her thumb in her mouth watching everything I did. The intensity of the little girl’s gaze threatened to destroy me knowing she looked to me to keep her safe. At least, we’d found her stuffed kitty, Puffin. She hugged him as if he’d squirm away and vanish.
My heart stuttered at the thought of providing basic necessities for them. They were still young enough to believe that adults had all the answers and that was almost as naïve as believing in Santa Claus.
Adults didn’t know what they were doing—we were just good at faking it.
But there would be no leeway to pretend here. It was achieve or die. Attempt or perish.
My attention zeroed in on Galloway; sympathy still flowed from the struggle he’d gone through getting to the beach. He’d hated, positively hated that I’d seen him vomit while hobbling the last stretch. He’d shoved me away and fallen to retch in a bush.
Not that much came up.
The pain was too much for his system.
He couldn’t make eye contact as he finally let me touch him again and guide him the rest of the way. No wise cracks. No surly comments. Just utter silence.
I respected his feelings and didn’t say a word, just helped him rest on the sand. Even now, a few hours later, I hadn’t brought it up.
Galloway kept his eyes closed, his fists clenched from pain while his skin alternated between flushing with adrenaline and whitening with agony.
As a group, we weren’t doing so well. With my broken ribs, Conner’s mangled wrist, and Pippa’s bloody shoulder, we were in no state to hammer together a home or hunt for dinner.
It’s not as easy as the storybooks.
I had a secret obsession with all things survival. I used to love watching castaway movies and read every book in the genre. I adored the idea of being alone and finding utopia in the most unlikely of places.
But that was before it happened to me.
That was before my comfortable window seat in my apartment with a crisp glass of iced tea became a wild Fijian island with no signs of help.
The characters made it sound so easy. Fishing with earrings, hacking at coconuts with ice-skates. Luck seemed to shine on them.
But us...
Will we be so able?
My eyes drifted over the ragged survivors who’d become my family. We were all too hurt to manage. And if we were too hurt to build and hunt, we would eventually grow weaker and sicker until being rescued no longer mattered.
No...
Launching upright, I held my ribs and marched toward the shoreline. Tears I could no longer stop trickled down my face as I begged the empty horizon for hope.
Please...how do we manage?
How do we drink and eat and create shelter when none of us are healthy enough to try?
Wading deeper into the water, I didn’t care the bottoms of my jeans grew wet. I’d wanted to change for hours. We all needed to change. We all needed a shower, a bed, and some subsistence.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself.
At least, no one you loved died.
No, that’d happened a year ago.
I’d had time to adjust.
I looked over my shoulder at Conner and Pippa. They sat together, locked tightly in mutual fear and sadness. However, they still talked, still smiled. And if they could chatter and share the occasional (if not entirely appropriate) joke, then I could definitely be there for them.
Scooping a handful of tepid seawater, I washed my face. The droplets smeared away some of the sticky sweat.
Feeling slightly less consumed with despair, I plodded back up the beach and resumed my position in front of the supplies.
Galloway groaned as he shifted higher, reclining against the fallen log I’d dragged (with help) from the forest edge into the shade of a leafy tree. The dense foliage acted like an umbrella and we’d found solace in the shadows while still able to enjoy the cooler air from the sea.
“Are you okay?”
My smile was brittle. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Galloway frowned. “I can think of a hundred reasons.”
“Yes, well. None of your reasons apply to me.”
I couldn’t deal with him. Especially after his honesty about how much he wanted me.
Who did that?
We were on a deserted island. I had enough to think about.
His eyes burned into me. “You sure?”
“Totally sure. All
good.” I winked at Pippa.
She rewarded me with a smile.
“Okay, inventory time.” I pointed at each item—the only things saving us from extinction. “We have one Swiss Army knife, a clear polyethylene sheet, a small axe that I guess would’ve been used to chop out the cockpit window in case of an accident—kind of moot if a palm tree spears it instead.”
I shuddered as an image of Akin’s dead legs filled my mind. “A pair of sunglasses, a baseball cap, a small medical kit with antiseptic wipes and a flimsy needle and thread, a hand-held mirror, a wind-up torch, and a packet of dried jerky with a use-by-date of two years ago.”
Turned out Akin had a survival kit but hadn’t checked it in a very long time. I wished he’d had fishing hooks and painkillers and a lighter. Just those three things would’ve made our life a lot easier.
Galloway said, “So...what you’re saying is we’re fucked.”
“Hey!” My head shot up. “Language.”
Conner laughed. “It’s okay. We’ve heard worse from our dad.”
Pippa nodded. “He liked the word bollocks.”
Galloway chuckled. “I’ll have to add that to my repertoire.”
“Oh, no, you won’t.”
“Watch me.” He glanced at the kids; they shared a conspiratorial smile.
I struggled not to give in. The relief of laughing helped soothe our stress. If a few colourful words provided entertainment, then so be it.
Leaving them to joke, I scooped up the items and tucked them carefully into the black drawstring bag.
Galloway coughed, catching my attention. He didn’t speak, but his eyes confirmed my previous thoughts. How could two adults and two children survive in a world where we had nothing?
The obvious answer?
We couldn’t.
But we would try so damn hard.
I stood up quickly. I couldn’t stay there looking at our meagre possessions anymore. I had to keep moving.
Pippa left her spot by her brother and came to take my hand. “My back hurts and my head feels funny.”
My stomach flipped.
Oh, no.
I’d tended to Conner’s wrist, but I hadn’t looked after Pippa. How could I forget about her bleeding shoulder?
Ducking to her level, I smiled as brightly as I could. “I know how to fix it.”