The sun had kissed every inch of Pippa’s body a nutmeg brown. Most days, she ran around topless in her white knickers (well, now grey from swimming and no bleach). I’d tanned as well but not as much. Being blonde, I burned instead, but my hair had turned almost white thanks to always being in the ocean.
Galloway was the only one whose hair colour hadn’t noticeably changed. It’d stayed a delicious dark chocolate, demanding my fingers to run through it.
He was so handsome. So wild and untamed, becoming sexier the further society slipped away. His beard framed his perfect lips, taunting me to kiss him, and his blue eyes only grew brighter the more he tanned.
His muscles had become even more defined as we all lost body fat, turning to sinew and skeleton. But his hands...they intoxicated me the most. Was it because two of his fingers had been inside me? Or was it because of the visible veins disappearing up ropy forearms?
Everything about him turned me on. The daily battle was real.
Not to mention, a second period had tormented me the past few days. I’d always been irregular and the fact I had no sanitary products meant those days were the worse. Leaves could only do so much. (Let’s just say, laundry day turned into laundry hour and I stayed alert when I swam, just in case of sharks).
I hate being a woman.
I squeezed the flax, wringing out some of my frustration.
“G said he’d show me how to make a necklace out of fish bones.” Pippa beamed. “You want to learn, too?”
He knows how to do that?
My heart fluttered. Galloway...sigh. He’d gone out of his way to entertain the children, making me want him almost as much as I wanted sugar and coffee.
No, I want him more than that.
I squeezed my eyes.
Stop it.
“I’d love a lesson...if it’s okay if I join.”
“Yep.”
“It’s a date then.”
Drying my hands on my legs, I pushed upright.
Pippa followed, her body nimble and naked chest showing a skinny girl who needed to put on a few kilos.
Are we malnourished?
Will my periods vanish the longer we stay?
How long could a human body function before vitamins and minerals depleted to dangerous levels?
“That’s it?” She pointed at the flax. “Are you going to drain it?”
“No, I’ll let the sun and water rot it a little.”
“Rot?”
“I’m not sure that’s what I want to happen. But I need the structure to break down, so it becomes malleable. Rotting is the best idea I came up with.”
“And the salt water will do that?”
“Who the hell knows?” I threw my arm over her shoulders. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we? Now, let’s go find G and play with fish bones.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
...............................................
G A L L O W A Y
......
EIGHT WEEKS
WAS IT POSSIBLE to hate everything but be grateful at the same time?
I hated clams, but I loved them because they fed us.
I hated the evergreen-tainted water from the trees, but I loved every droplet because it quenched my thirst.
I hated the sand, the sun, the waves, the island, the calendar on Estelle’s bloody phone marking every day we’d been missing, but I loved them all because I was alive to see them.
And I hated Estelle...but I loved her, too.
Damn curse.
Damn woman.
I’d done what I’d promised and locked away every desire and craving I had for her. I treated her like the best friend I never had. I went out of my way to be kind and courteous and how did she repay me? By watching my every move with lust dripping from her pores. She licked her lips if I stripped in the hot sun. She sucked in a breath if I accidentally brushed past. Her body sent message after message to take her.
She infected my dreams, my thoughts, every damn moment.
It wasn’t fair.
I suffered a permanent case of blue balls and deliberately sat farther and farther away from her at meal times and during chores around the camp.
But it didn’t help.
There was no ignoring the heat in her gaze or the begs in her body.
But she’d told me no.
And until she told me yes, she could keep staring, keep hurting both of us. I’d tried to make her accept me, and she’d turned me down. If she wanted me...it was her turn to do the grovelling.
Conner groaned as his spear flew sideways down the beach. If the kid wasn’t in the ocean hunting fish, he was on the sand practicing.
Today was no different.
My leg itched and I wanted the splint off. If I were honest, I’d wanted it off the day Estelle had put it on. But I didn’t dare remove it. I was too chicken to see if the break was still abnormally crooked.
I’d become used to estimating the time with the placement of the sun, and I guessed it was threeish. Estelle and Pippa had disappeared to find firewood, and I was sick to death of plaiting rope for a house I still wasn’t physically ready to build.
Screw it.
Hauling myself up, I grabbed my walking stick. Last week, I’d chopped my crutch in half so I could use it as support rather than a second leg. I’d disposed of the end, keeping the bulbous root for a convenient handhold.
Hopping toward Conner, I was grateful the sharp pain had turned to an aching throb and was tempted to put more and more weight on my ankle.
Don’t be an idiot.
In my heart, I knew it hadn’t healed. If I rushed it...it would only backfire.
Conner swiped his long, sun-turned hair from his eyes as he jogged to collect the spear and return to his starting spot. He frowned as I patted him on the shoulder and kept hopping toward the water’s edge. “Come on. I have an idea.”
He immediately ran after me. Shirtless, his chest had filled out, straining to become a man even on limited food. “Hunting?”
“Yep.”
“But the fish aren’t around at this time. They’ll be back to feed in an hour or two.”
I smirked. “Been staring at them so long you know their dates and appointments, huh?”
He scowled. “If only that knowledge came in handy and let me catch the bastards.”
“Language.”
He snickered.
I let him swear. After all, if we couldn’t curse here...where could we? Estelle and her need for verbal purity be damned. “Well, let’s try for something else.” The thought of a cheeseburger with all the trimmings once again tormented me. I missed flavour. I missed lemon zest and mayonnaise. I missed garlic and barbecue sauce. Everything that made boring food awesome was missing in our bare essential pantry.
My crutch sank into the wet sand as I traded dry land for lapping waves. Wriggling my toes in the water, I glared at the turquoise sea. Our turquoise prison. “Let’s see what else we can find.”
“Like what?” Conner splashed beside me. He’d become part water nymph with how much time he spent in the salty realm.
I shrugged. “Not sure.”
His eyes fell on my splint. “Can you swim with that?”
He knew the answer already. We’d been on this island for two months, and I’d yet to wade out of the shallows because I couldn’t kick with the cumbersome weight.
His voice lowered. “Do you think you should rest it more? I mean, you’ve never just lay down and let us do the work. What if it’s not fixed—”
I cut him off. I couldn’t stomach that conversation. “I can rest when I’m dead, and I have no intention of dying on this island. Broken bones won’t stop me from doing what I need to do.”
“Doesn’t matter anyway.” Conner stabbed his spear into the crystal water. “The reef isn’t that far. It only comes up to my chin, so you’ll be okay. You won’t have to swim.” He squinted in the sun, assessing my height. “You can be on spot duty. If you see something, yell and I'll catch it.”
br />
I cracked a grin. “All right, Aqua Boy.”
He rolled his eyes. “I want a cooler nickname.”
“Can’t get a nickname unless you earn it.”
“I’ve earned it.”
I waded deeper. The density of the water fought the floatable properties of my walking stick.
Don’t need it in the water anyway.
Twisting, I tossed the support up the beach and out of the wave’s grip.
“Ready?”
Conner smiled. “Ready.”
“Let’s see if we can get you a cooler nickname than Aqua Boy.” The sun bounced off the surface, blinding me. Every day, I mourned the loss of my glasses. I was sick to bloody death of straining to see and living with a permanent haze. Would I ever see Estelle in high definition again? Would I ever be able to look into her eyes and see hazel swirls and not a mist of muddy colour?
That’s besides the point.
She’d never let me get close enough. She wanted me but for some reason turned me away. I wasn’t going to keep begging.
Limping through the warm water, I said, “Keep your eyes open for anything on the bottom. That’ll be easier to catch than fish at this point.”
“Good because I suck at catching fish.”
“You don’t suck.”
“Do too.” His jaw clenched. “But I’m gonna become great. Every day, I want to catch a fish for each of us. Four fish a day. Watch me. It will happen.”
I sucked in a breath as the water crossed my waistline, reaching for my chest. “I have no doubt.”
“Strange that I want them so bad when I don’t even like fish.”
My eyes widened. “You don’t?”
He pulled a face. “Hell, no. They’re gross.”
I chuckled. “Believe me, if you never get off this island, you’ll start to like fish.”
Conner froze at the reference of never being free but stuck out his tongue and played along. “No, I won’t.”
“Believe me, you will when there’s nothing else to eat.”
“You found clams, and they aren’t too bad.”
“Yes, but we have to vary our diet; otherwise, things like scurvy happen.”
Conner ducked under the water to wet his hair. “Scurvy? Is that like the bleeding gum thing pirates used to get?”
I laughed. “Where did you learn that?”
“Playing Assassin’s Creed.”
“Of course, you did.” I kept moving. “And to answer your question, you get scurvy from lack of vitamin C.”
“Well, sorry to say I don’t see any oranges growing around here.”
“Vitamin C comes from many places, but you’re right, that’s one source.” Out the corner of my eye, I spotted a flash below the surface. Lunging forward, I snatched Conner’s spear and stabbed it into the sand.
An awful squelch and crunch of something living ricocheted up my arm. “Got dinner.”
Conner shoved his face underwater (as if he could see without goggles). Spluttering, he said, “What? What is it?”
Whatever it was wriggled and fought. “Not sure.” I couldn’t make it out through the rippling ocean and my shoddy eyesight failed me once again. Whatever I’d harpooned wasn’t happy about it.
Sand swirled from the depths.
Conner squeaked, lifting his feet off the bottom. “It’s fighting pretty good.”
My arms bunched as the spear shifted to the left, moved by whatever I'd stabbed.
“If I pull up, it will escape.” I frowned. “We need to get it to the surface somehow.”
“What do you want me to do?”
I ran through the scenarios. We couldn’t use our hands—just in case it was venomous. And we had nothing else. Inspiration struck. “Run back to the camp and grab the piece of metal we use as a spade.”
Conner didn’t need telling twice. He swam off in a breaststroke, beaching himself and tearing up the sand.
I stood there, fighting with the creature below, waiting for him to return.
He didn’t waste time. Bolting back with a smaller piece of fuselage, he dived into the water and popped up beside me. “Here you go.”
“Use the metal and go down there and wedge it beneath it.”
“What? Hell, no. I’m not doing that.”
I laughed. “Just testing your manliness.” If he’d agreed, I would’ve forbid it. What sort of father figure would I be if I made him fight with an unknown sea monster? “The look on your face means you’ll forever be known as Aqua Boy.”
“You suck.” Shoving the metal at me, he wrapped his hands around the spear. “New deal. I’ll hold it while you go down.”
“Good plan.” I let him take control.
The moment I let go, his face shot white. “Damn, it’s struggling hard.”
“Don’t let it escape.” I brushed hair away from my face, preparing to dive under. “Stay leaning on it. Got it?”
He nodded.
Taking a deep breath, I shot beneath the surface, blinking in briny water. I couldn’t see crap, but something blurred and wriggled like a demon on the seafloor. Doing my best to fight buoyancy and swim with a splinted leg, I stabbed the sharp tip into the creature, trying to put it out of its misery before wedging the metal into the sand beneath it.
Is it dead?
Something slimy wrapped around my wrist.
Shit, not dead.
I swallowed a mouthful of water and shot upright.
Conner fought the creature, his face dripping wet. “Now, what?”
Rubbing my wrist, I made sure I hadn’t been bitten or stung. The slime and suckers said we’d stabbed an octopus.
Lucky us.
Hopefully, it wasn’t a blue-ringed bastard. Those were dangerous and definitely not edible. “I’m going down again. I’ll raise the metal while you move with me, okay? We’ll keep it pinched between the two. Just move when I push.”
He swallowed hard. “Got it.”
Taking a breath, I dived again, fighting revulsion as the prey instantly wrapped around my wrist. Ignoring it, I pushed upward, signalling to Conner to rise with me.
He did as planned, slowly pulling the eight-tentacle animal from the depths.
The closer I got to the surface, the more my skin crawled. The octopus wrapped three, four, five sucked arms around my skin.
At least, Lady Luck decided to give us a break. The flesh of our prey was slimy-grey, not bright blue circles.
Conner squealed as our meal erupted from the sea, wriggling in its multiple-armed glory.
The suckers remained glued to my arm, but its head and nasty beak were pinned against the metal.
Struggling a little with its heavy weight and flailing body, I took the spear and kept the octopus safely pinioned. “Good job. Let’s go.”
Wading back to the beach, I caught sight of Estelle as she appeared with Pippa from the treeline. Afternoon sun glowed on her face, hardening my cock despite my resolution to avoid everything to do with her.
There was something about her.
Something I couldn’t ignore.
I just hoped she couldn’t ignore it, too.
Because I didn’t know how much longer I could keep my promise to be her friend.
.............................
“We come in peace.” Conner pranced ahead with the dead creature aloft.
We’d taken the time to kill the octopus down at the water’s edge and wash off the natural slime and too-late-to-be-effective ink.
The girls (who had their heads bent together weaving the flax Esselte had boiled in the sun for a week) looked up.
“Eww!” Pippa sprang to her feet, backing up. “Get it away.”
Conner laughed, dashing forward to taunt his sister. “What? Never seen an octopus before?”
“No!” Pippa darted behind the umbrella tree. “Co, don’t!”
Conner didn’t listen, chasing her and waving the eight-suckered sea life in her face. “It’s gonna get you, Pip!”
“No!”
“Conner, stop harassing your sister.” Estelle set down her work and stood, massaging the kinks in her back from working with no table or chairs.
The past few weeks things I’d taken for granted became sorely missed: a table to write on, chairs to recline in, utensils to help us resemble human beings rather than sand dirty savages.
I missed light switches and air-con and flushing toilets. I missed cars and radio and internet browsers. But I also missed simpler things. I missed the silence of a house when all the doors were closed. I missed the comfort of having a roof and walls protecting me from the outside. Here, the slap of the waves was constant, the buzz of mosquitos never far away, and the breeze we could never escape was part enemy, part friend.
Estelle’s gaze dropped to my soggy splint. “How was it swimming?”
“Useless. I think it’s time to come off.”
She pursed her lips. “You might be right.”
I stiffened. First thing I’d be right about, according to her.
I wanted it off. I could’ve done it myself many times over, but I didn’t because of some stupid reason.
A reason that would never come true.
I want her to do it.
I wanted her fingers on my thigh. I wanted to make her touch me because God knew she wouldn’t touch me otherwise. She hadn’t even changed the leaf-padding in the weeks it’d been on...deliberately withholding care from her patient. A patient who’d reached the end of his patience. A patient who wouldn’t be able to stop if she ever did touch him.
In two months, I hadn’t been touched. It wasn’t something that’d ever crossed my mind that I needed...but hell...I did.
The kids weren’t cuddly. Pippa got her needed affection from Estelle, and Conner was happy with a fist-bump rather than an embrace. And Estelle got her hugs from Pippa and the occasional one from Conner.
What did I get? Nothing.
Bloody nothing.
I’d never been a massive hugger—only hugging those I truly cared for. My dad earned his fair share, and my mother was smothered in them toward the end.
But apart from that, I kept my physical contact to a minimum—even when I’d had no choice with what happened after my mum’s death, I didn’t seek out any more than I had to.
But Estelle?
Living with her. Sleeping by her. Watching her. Being the best goddamn friend I could be to her.