Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59739 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59739 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Baby steps, I suppose.
What I would kill for, right now, is a scalding hot shower.
Aggie returns close to sunset, hair wild, skin streaked with charcoal from whatever she was working on. She notices me awake, and her eyes widen. She rushes over, sitting beside me and pressing a hand to my head. “Oh gosh, honey, your fever is gone.”
I smile, even though it hurts. “I think I am getting better.”
Her eyes well up. “You have no idea how scared we were.”
I stretch my hand out, taking hers in mine and squeezing. “I love you, Aggie.”
Guilt consumes me. I want to tell her about Kellen, but I also don’t want to hurt her or Rachel.
“Is everyone doing okay?” I croak.
She gives me that smile—equal parts exhaustion and reckless optimism. “We’re a goddamn mess, but we’re not dead. Adrian has found a heap of parts and is trying to build a radio. We don’t hold much hope, but it’s keeping him entertained. Zeke actually caught some creature—I don’t even want to ask questions—but we have some red meat, which is absolutely the best thing ever. Kellen and Ace have been working on fixing the wreck, and we help where we can. We’re all just ready to get out of here, you know?”
“Is Tati doing okay?”
She rolls her eyes. “She’s Tati. That girl seems fragile, but damn, she’s strong. She and Zeke have been spending a lot of time together. Good for them, I say. She has really gotten the hang of weaving and makes some really cool things out of the fronds and vines.”
Of course she does.
“She’s a legend in her own right, that girl,” I laugh.
Aggie giggles, then falls silent.
“And you?” I squeeze her hand. “Are you doing okay?”
She hesitates, then nods. “It’s just... a lot. I wasn’t made for managing people, you know? I was a dancer. I led a team, but this is survival. Kellen doesn’t listen half the time, he wants to be the boss. Zeke has turned into Tarzan and I am certain he could happily live here, and well, Adrian is just surviving. The girls, we’re keeping it together but it’s exhausting. Ace is—well, Ace is Ace.”
I laugh, which causes me to cough and then wince. “Yeah, he is. But know this, honey, you’re doing a fucking great job.”
She closes her eyes, just for a heartbeat, and when she opens them, her face is clear. “I love you,” she whispers. “Now, I’m going to find Ace and tell him you’re awake. He will kill me if I don’t.”
It feels like Aggie is only gone for a second before Ace is there, appearing at the opening. He’s not quiet about it. He never is. His eyes lock on mine, and I see an immediate relief wash over him, something that I haven’t seen on his face before. It makes my heart swell, a feeling I can’t quite contain. What he did for me through all this—hell, it makes it really hard to stay mad at him.
He saved my life.
He built me a shack.
For the first time since we got here, I look at him, really look at him, not through a haze of fear, lust or pain. He’s a disaster in the best possible sense. His beard has overtaken his jaw, flecked with gold where the sun caught the ends. His hair is longer and wild with salt and humidity, streaked slightly lighter in parts from the sun.
He’s shirtless, and his chest and arms have gone that gorgeous coppery brown from weeks of sun, muscles cut with shadows. There’s a shallow gash up his left bicep, half-healed, and a string of new bruises. Sweat has mapped dirty rivers between his ribs. The man looks like he could pick up the world, shake it upside down, and see what coins rattle loose.
He’s fucking perfection.
He kneels beside the bed and the smell of the jungle, smoke, and saltwater clings to him. For a second I hate the way it makes something in me leap. He puts a palm over my forehead, his eyes locked on mine. His hands are rougher after a month out here, but I don’t mind. His thumb traces my hairline, and for a second the world is silent.
“Didn’t think you’d make it,” he mutters, not quite looking at me. “Should have known you were too tough to go anywhere.”
I attempt a smile, my lips sticky and split. “Of course. I’m too stubborn to die.”
“Yeah,” he grunts, “no shit.”
His fingers pause at the base of my throat, like he just needs to confirm my heart is still beating somewhere in there. There’s a softness to him now, something I’ve never seen. Maybe I broke him a little, too. He rocks back on his heels, knees splayed and props his elbows on his thighs. He doesn’t move for a while, just watches me breathe. That’s when it hits me how deeply tired he is—not just physically, but in that way that a man gets when he’s forced to keep everyone else alive.