21. Chapter Twenty-One
Rachel
N ot even the lines of discomfort carved on his face or his unsure stammers made me regret bringing up my night together with Vaughn—at that moment, at least.
Now? I am not sure if I regret it either. But I sure feel disappointed, hurt, and stupid.
Jeez!
On second thought, I regret it a bit. I should have known the man wanted nothing to do with that conversation from when he drove me back home after dinner with his mom and siblings. But would you blame me? He seems different in a good way—more caring, more cheerful. The atmosphere is serene, beautiful, and perhaps even romantic?
I should have known.
But here I am, sitting miserably alone facing the ocean, my butt hurting from the hot sand beneath it, still hurt and disappointed by his reaction to my remark despite it being like two hours ago.
“Did you write about our time together in your study? Or would you say you forgot that already?”
Stupid. So stupid.
I got too comfortable, and a crumpled facial expression and a snicker were what I got in response.
“A-are you s-seriously bringing this up now?” His brows furrow into an expression of disappointment and disbelief. “I thought we both got the cue never to bring this up again!”
It’s my turn to stammer now. “I . . . I didn’t mean to . . .”
He stood up and disappeared into the bushes right after.
It’s not so much what he said that made me feel hurt, but the tone. Underneath his confused words was a somewhat angry undertone.
I get why he dismissed me the other time when he was driving me home and even laughed it off before asking me to get out, but why is he avoiding it now? Does he see our time together as something he’d rather put behind him, something disgusting and distasteful? Even if that’s what he thinks, why not say so? After all, it isn’t considered very kosher of him to be involved with his secretary in a sexual manner. If that is what he thinks, wouldn’t it be better to discuss it instead and put all of it behind us if that’s what he truly wants?
But why do I even worry? Vaughn has made clear that he doesn’t want to talk about it, so maybe I should get past it and try to forget something that happened that day. Our work relationship has survived just fine since then. I see no reason why it should suffer now.
I keep working for the most miserable, most successful soccer player on earth while breaking my back in the process, then come back home right after to a dinner of pain meds and cold soup while ranting about my day to a fluffy orange cat who’s probably tired of my rants.
As long as it guarantees a paycheck, why bother, right?
A series of waves crash rhythmically against the shore, accompanied by a soft breeze. Tall shadows of the surrounding trees are cast on the ground, and the sun seems to be sinking into the ocean in the distance.
I look at my phone to check what the time is, only to see that the battery is dead.
Fuck!
Powered by the frustration from Vaughn’s reaction, our dire situation, and how generally miserable my life is, I send the phone flying into a small cluster of shrubs to my left. I feel like yelling into the ocean, but that would likely attract Vaughn, whose presence I am actively avoiding; otherwise, I would have gone back to the shelter because it’s starting to get cold.
Something falls from my dress as I stand up; it’s the pain medication I had hidden from Vaughn. A smile crosses my lips as I figure I might need it soon. After all, the reason I use it all too often is right here with me. Perhaps the universe knows that, and that’s why my bag washed ashore.
Nice one, universe.
As soon as I bend down to pick it up, I hear a startling cry in the bushes. My senses instantly tense, my eyes darting in the direction it came from.
“What was that?” I mutter to myself.
It takes a second cry for me to realize that this could mean trouble. It sounds human. Vaughn and I are the only humans around here, and I could bet the cry definitely isn’t from me.
Without thinking twice, I grab the hem of my dress and sprint toward the bushes, my heart pounding. I don’t run for more than two minutes before hearing the cry again, and this time, I stop.
On a branch of a white oak tree perch three northern mockingbirds. The shade from the slender twigs and leaves partially conceals them as two of them keep on wailing, much like the cries I heard back at shore. I stifle a laugh as a wave of relief washes through me. The third mockingbird, which I assume is the mother, is pecking gently on one of the other’s heads. They would have looked cuter if they hadn’t just scared the shit out of me!
“I might as well just go back to the shelter since I have come this far,” I say to myself.
The leaves rustle against my tired feet as I walk toward the shelter, and I can feel soft shivers creeping all over my body. Soon, I hear another set of footsteps approaching me, and soon enough, Vaughn stands before me.
“Where the hell have you been?” he demands. “I was just coming back from the shore. I thought you’d tripped into the ocean or something!”
Yeah, that’s it. Old Vaughn is back. The tone of voice, the mannerisms, the default irritable expression, he’s always had—all back. It is disappointing and kinda heartbreaking. But on the upside, at least I now have my meds to cope with the upcoming stress, so well, yeah.
“What am I, stupid?” I snap back. “Why on earth would I trip into the ocean?”
“Who knows? You obviously can’t just remain in one place!” he scolds in a strong voice, a little too strong of a reaction for thinking I “wandered” off.
I got it now. This has nothing to do with him thinking I wandered off. He’s definitely mad about something. He’s probably mad about me asking what he thought about the time we spent together in his study. But do I blame him? Absolutely not. Instead, I blame my crazy feelings that keep hoping it meant something more to him other than just sex. Besides, am I not the one who brought it up on not one but two separate occasions? I literally set myself up for this sort of reaction! So yeah, I do not blame him at all.
A flame of anger slowly overpowers the hurt I feel, burning steadily in my chest as he keeps mouthing off about how I shouldn’t roam about randomly. My palms clutch tighter on the hem of my dress with each passing second. Just when I feel like I have had enough, I stomp my feet aggressively on the ground and open my mouth to tell him to shut his arrogant mouth and go fuck himself for the time being, only for him to beat me to it.
“Shut up, Rachel!”
What? So he’s figuratively beating me up and stopping me from crying?
Unsurprisingly, this gets me even more incensed, so incensed that it takes me like five seconds—five seconds I will forever be grateful for—to catch the look in his blue eyes, which have now turned dark. His body language is tense, and his demeanor alert.
I shift my weight to my left leg, unsure of what to make of the sudden shift from angry to tense.
“I said shut up, and don’t move.”
The seriousness in his voice this time makes fear creep up my spine, and I instantly know something is terribly wrong. The low, unmistakable sound of a hiss just behind me makes my blood run cold, and the cold feel of an object against my ankle sends me instinctively lunging toward Vaughn without so much as a thought. Though neither of us is prepared for it, he manages to grab me with his strong arms just in time, swinging me to the side. We almost crash into a tree as the snake lunges at me.
My God! I swear my ribcage would have cracked if my heart had beaten any faster. He lets go of me, but I would rather die than let go of him. Sensing my reluctance, he says, “I need to try and kill it.”
“Hell no!” I bark. My heart is beating louder than my voice, so I’m not even aware I sounded like that. “I am not about to be left alone with that thing. What if it tries to attack me again? Or tries to attack you, for that matter?”
My grip on his sleeve loosens as I witness the reaction that follows. He first raises a thick eyebrow, and then his serious expression morphs into laughter.
I feel a little bit embarrassed, a little bit of anger, and a little bit of confusion. I, for sure, know that none of what I just said was funny. No, none of what is going on here is funny. There’s literally a big-ass snake just a few meters away from us, probably looking for another opportunity to strike!
That sounds funny to you, Vaughn?
He gently removes my hands from his sleeve. “Trust me, it will be fine,” he says. He doesn’t sound reassuring, but his eyes look the part. I reluctantly let go of him, and he gently steps around me to retrieve a branch lying randomly on the forest floor.
“Don’t make a movement,” Vaughn cautions. He moves slowly toward the snake, which has now assumed a striking pose.
A few steps in, the snake strikes. Although I am practically glued to the cottonwood tree behind me at this point, my knees give away. Vaughn appears to have timed the snake’s strike and catches it on the head as he swings the branch. The snake does a swirling movement with its head before collapsing on the leaves.
“Is it . . . dead?” I ask, finally straightening my back.
Vaughn is now standing over the snake, his back turned to me. “Looks pretty dead to me. Wasn’t expecting it to die from just a swing.” He turns his head to me. “It looks a bit different from the common rattlesnakes I have seen.”
Snake knowledge is the last thing I am interested in right now. I am just glad we’re safe. Breathing a sigh of relief, I approach where he’s standing to take a closer look.
My mouth drops instantly. “Jesus Christ! That could have bitten me.” A crawling sensation runs under my skin as the thought of being a snakebite victim runs through my mind. On this deserted island, I would be dead before sunrise.
His gaze lingers on me for a while before he bursts into another fit of laughter.
“Seems like almost getting bitten by a dangerous snake is funny to you,” I say this time.
“Oh, it’s definitely not,” he replies, stepping over the dead snake as he heads toward the shelter, “It’s your reaction. You should have seen your face when you clutched at me desperately.”
“Oh.” A blush of embarrassment heats my cheeks. “Well, I don’t reckon anyone would clap and jump for joy when they encounter a big-ass snake like that.”
He laughs lightly again, and this time, it’s infectious. We share a laugh as we head back to the shelter, and for some weird reason I hadn’t noticed earlier (probably because I was scared), I realize it’s strange hearing him laugh. I have never seen him laugh that much before or even laugh at all. He snickers at most, and it’s usually not for friendly reasons. I can’t decide if I find his laughter adorable and pleasing because of its novelty or because of something else—something else like me getting all warm and fuzzy inside because he’s just protected me from a snake.
“See why you shouldn’t be roaming around aimlessly? Things could have gone—”
“Thank you, Vaughn.”
He slows down in his steps and looks at me, first from the corner of his eyes, then fully. He doesn’t say anything. I’ve already stopped, clutching at my sides against the light cold. We stare at each other in silence for a while, and at that moment, it seems like the Vaughn who rescued me from drowning, the Vaughn who wrapped his strong arms and jacket around me when I was sick, the Vaughn who climbs on trees to get fruit so I don’t starve, is back. I hope he never leaves.
These are the warm blue eyes I first saw when I opened my eyes on this abandoned island, and just staring into them pulls me in like the ocean.
A lump forms in my throat. I clutch a little tighter to my sides, and it has nothing to do with the cold this time. One of those mockingbirds screams as it flaps its wings above us, giving me the perfect opportunity to shift my gaze.
“Thank you for saving me back there.”
Still, silence.
“I don’t even want to imagine what would have happened if you weren’t there.”
Okay, this is starting to get awkward. I should shut up now.
His lips form into a smile, and without acknowledging that I just thanked him, he says, “We better get going. It’s getting late and cold out here.”
He resumes walking, this time in long strides, leaving me struggling to catch up to him.