26. Harbor
Chapter 26
Harbor
Haley
I t’s not the brightest plan I’ve ever come up with. But the way the two of them were, well, rubbing on me a couple hours ago... “I figured if I flashed my breasts, you would both be so shocked you’d stop.” I’d just taken off my life vest, carefully hiding Calvin’s soggy bear inside it.
“Lots of men have become stupefied by a lot less. Brilliant plan but poor execution,” Dante says, his arm over his eyes. “I don’t suppose you’d want to help lift my spirits by doing it now?” He doesn’t raise his head, so I know he’s joking. Maybe. It’s hard to tell. He’s had a head injury.
“No.” My ankle hurts.
“Do you want one of the painkillers?” Easton asks.
Calvin didn’t want Dante to have one. We had to vote, and I had to convince Zane to change his vote to even get Dante some. And Dante was unconscious.
“Do you need some?” Easton asks again.
“No.” Yes, I want them. “But Dante should have some more.”
All the guys but Dante are glaring at each other.
“Dante, do you want some more pain relievers?” I ask.
“If you don’t care if I lie here, I’m fine without them.” Dante doesn’t move his head.
Calvin stands. “I’m going to get some wood.”
“I’ll go with you.” Easton gets up too.
They march off into the woods—jungle? Whatever it’s called. I don’t know—leaving me with Dante. “Are you feeling okay?”
“As long as I don’t move or talk. It’s nice to be on land. Even if the land doesn’t have air conditioning, beds, and a kitchen.”
“Let me know if you need anything,” I whisper.
I think he heard me. Dante’s chest moves slowly. I’m watching him even now. Worry is eating me up. We’ve lost enough already with Candy dying. And Sam... I take a big breath in. Easton and Zane are right. We don’t know what happened to him. Like Schrodinger’s cat. Although, if I’d gotten my hands on Schrodinger, we’d know if the cat was alive. I’m not so sure about the physicist, though.
I’m also not sure where Zane went. I lean over the edge of the raft to pull myself up. I stand mostly on one leg.
“You heard what the golden boy said: no standing.” Dante hasn’t moved his arm. He’s like my grandfather asleep watching baseball. When I tried to change the channel, he’d yell at me.
“Well, I’m bored. And I can be of some help.”
“Be some help by not getting injured any further. Sit down. Those two are liable to start tearing each other apart in the woods.”
I sink to the sand in a one-legged squat. “You think so?” My heart pounds. I turn around, trying to see where they headed into the jungle.
“No.” He stands, bringing his towel over to my makeshift ottoman.
“You should rest too,” I say.
“You wanted something to do. I’m giving you something to do. Can you pet my hair?” He raises his eyebrows at me.
“Your hair?”
“Yeah, like, smooth it down like I’m a pet.” He lies on the towel and puts his head on my lap, bandage side up, facing my stomach.
“A pet chef. That sounds dangerous.” I smooth his hair away from his forehead. It’s silky and dark with a wave to it.
“I’m harmless without my knives.” His eyes flutter closed. I keep petting him. He’s kept his crew shirt on, while all the other guys ripped theirs off the second they got their life vests off. I rub the circle on his back with my other hand. A slow groan hisses out of his lips.
“Sorry.” I lift my hand.
“No. Don’t stop. Feels good.” He’s talking like a drunken sailor, and I’m worried again. But I keep the circles slow with even pressure.
“So good. I’m not drooling on you.” Dante’s lips are open.
“It’s okay if you do.”
“You’re drool-worthy,” he stammers out.
I laugh. “Now I know something’s really wrong with you.”
“Seriously? You have no idea, do you? So sexy.” But that’s the last thing he says before he falls asleep.
I stop rubbing him but leave my hand on his back. Feeling his back lift with each breath makes me feel a hell of a lot better. We’re all here for such a short time, and anything could take us away. Like it did with my mom. Or Candy. I lean back against the raft and close my eyes too. I fall asleep and wake to the sound of Easton and Calvin bossing each other around.
“Just take the end of the log,” Easton says. “You wanted it.” Their voices are coming from behind the raft, so I can’t see what they have.
“Put it down there,” Calvin calls out.
Zane bounces around the raft first, his arms laden with dry driftwood. Calvin and Easton are holding a whole palm tree. I raise my eyebrows at Zane.
“Easton wants to burn it. Cal wants to use it as a support beam for the decking of a shelter. And I am staying the fuck out of it.”
“That’s a good idea.” I put my hand on Dante’s back.
Zane glances at him. “How’s he doing?”
“Sassy. And good.” I leave the hope out of it because I don’t want Dante to pick up a bad mindset.
“Good.” Zane nods.
Calvin and Easton take off for the woods, but Zane is running around the edges of the beach, grabbing enormous stones, bringing them back to the pile of firewood he’s collected. It’s backbreaking work, and after a long time, he settles down in the shade near his pile of rocks.
“I wish I could help.” My chest is heavy. I put a little pressure on my foot, and pain zings up my leg.
“You will, Haley. And watching over Dante is helping.” Zane moves sand and places rocks, making a perfect fire pit.
“That looks amazing. Have you done it before?”
The answer is in his glance. “No. I’m a city kid. I ended up on boats on a lark. A school mate started and got me a job on a day charter ten years ago. I’ve been working my way up. Saving. My boat. Oh well, there will be another one. And we better be getting paid.” He laughs. “Right?”
“There’s got to be something about it in the contract,” I mumble.
“More like something to screw us over.” He hands me his water bottle from his belt. It’s full.
My eyes light up.
“There’s a stream. And Calvin was all, ‘don’t drink it until we boil it.’ But?—”
“You drank some.”
“Yeah, it’s better than that bagged water.”
“But parasites?” I bite my lip.
“How are we going to boil water, Haley? We don’t have a pot. I’m not going to wait until Calvin finds clay, makes a pot, makes a kiln to fire the pot, and boils some water. This tastes good. If you want to wait to see if I collapse, I wouldn’t blame you.”
The moment I have it to my lips, Calvin and Easton are back on the beach.
“Don’t.” It’s Easton yelling. “We found coconuts to drink from while we wait and see what happens to Mister No-Fear.”
Zane takes the water bottle back from me. “Toss me one. I’ll open it and give it to Haley.”
Easton tosses it to Zane. He balances the brown shaggy nut on a flat rock, takes out his pocketknife, and uses the screwdriver blade and a small rock to punch a hole in it. He hands it to me. “Bottoms up.”
“I thought you’re a city boy?” I drink it down—it’s delicious. But the cup of liquid is gone in a few swigs. I tilt my head all the way back to get the last drops.
“A summer bartending at the Tiki lounge.” He beckons with his hand for the coconut back. In a few swift strikes, he has the thing opened. He pries the meat loose with his knife, leaving it in the shell, and hands it back to me. Then he repeats the process for himself. A few whacks and we’re munching on lunch that’s not raw fish or from a packet.
“Cheers.” I clink shells with Zane. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
Stretching to reach Zane jostles Dante. I pull the cushion from under my ankle and put it under Dante’s head.
Easton and Calvin are arranging palm fronds on the beach. I can definitely make out an S and the O, but the large log Easton wanted to use for the second S is too skinny and the same brown shade as the sand.
“Want to go see the stream?” asks Zane.
“I can’t.” I wiggle my toes.
“How about a piggyback ride, at least to the closest part?”
I glance at Dante. He’s asleep, and the other two are arguing about whether they should use the tree or not. “Let’s go. They won’t even notice.”
Zane’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, they’ll notice. Question is, do you care?”
“Sure, uh, no. It’s fine.”
He straddles my legs and pulls me up, grabbing me. But now we’re chest to chest and my legs are around his hips.
“Last time I checked, piggy backs were on backs.” I’m staring into his brown eyes, holding on to his large shoulders.
“Indeed, you’re right.” His hands are cupping my bottom. And in the next second, he moves me gracefully around his back. I hold him around the top of his shoulders, careful to not strangle him as he strolls to the woods.
It’s a different world. The temperature drops, but it’s humid. Sticky, even. Birds are chirping, and there’s a little trail leading from the beach.
“The stream isn’t far. Just up this way.” Tall ferns line the path. And the farther into the jungle he walks, the louder the birds sing and chatter.
“There. Stop.”
Zane stops.
“Look, it’s perfect.”
“What’s perfect, Haley?”
“That stick. It’s got a little Y in it like a crutch. I can use that, then you don’t have to carry me.”
“I don’t mind carrying you,” Zane growls.
“But you don’t have to carry me for everything. I’m too heavy. You should save your strength.”
“You’re not heavy, and what is there to save my strength for, anyway?”
“Zane, let me try it. Maybe it’s not even the right height.” Seriously, why does he want to carry me?
He lowers me to the ground and holds on to my elbow while reaching for the stick—driftwood that’s made its way into the jungle. I’m not going to think about how it got this far inland.
I tuck the stick under my arm. “It’s a little long, but I think I can make it work.” There’s a knot around where my hand naturally rests.
Zane shakes his head at me.
“What? I like being independent.”
“Just don’t independent yourself to a bigger injury.” His serious face turns into a bright smile.
“I won’t.” I stand up straight, taking in where we are and how to get back to the beach. The island didn’t look that big as we were crashing through the breakers, but now that I’m standing in the middle of the woods, things are larger than I expected. Ferns brush against our knees. And white butterflies are flitting around. Breathtaking. The exact sort of place I’d want to bring guests for a day excursion.
“The stream is just up there.” Zane points between some trees. “Let me know if you want me to carry you.”
I nod. He points out every rock and tree branch as we walk along the path. But he’s right, it is just up ahead. And if fairies don’t live here, it’s because they don’t know about it. The water meanders in and out of the ferns.
“I didn’t go too far when I was gathering wood, but it gets deeper up ahead. I think there might even be a waterfall, but I’m not sure.”
I kneel on one leg and wash my face and hands. It feels so decadent to wash the salt off my skin. Round limestone pebbles cover the bottom of the clear stream. I pick one up and put it in my tiny yoga pants pocket. Zane crouches next to me. When I glance back at him, the path is super noticeable.
“Right. Zane?”
“Yeah?” He runs his fingers lightly over my good foot.
“If this island is deserted, why is there a path?”
“That’s a good question.”
Ferns rustle farther inland. And they’re followed by a loud grunt.
Zane hoists me up. My bad leg touches the ground, and pain shoots up my calf. “Ouch.”
The grunt is louder and on the move; ferns’ tops wiggle out of the way of whatever is coming at us.
And the grunt turns to a squealing oink.
“Wild boar.” Zane picks me up. He cradles me to his chest, my stick gripped in my hand, and he runs.
The snorts from the boar are getting louder.