Chapter Five
Now
Time was elastic. The space between dreams and reality shifted every time Piper opened her eyes.
Blink.
Ten years old and having a sleepover with Allie.
Blink.
The world on fire, and all she could see was red.
Blink.
High school prom and dancing with Wyatt.
Blink.
Darkness and the roar of the ocean.
Piper broke free from the limbo of her dreamworld, her mouth tasting like cotton and something metallic. Blood? When she inhaled,
her lungs burned as if she’d smoked a pack of cigarettes.
Where was she? Her hands curled into sand by her sides. A man stood by the water’s edge, looking out at the horizon. Was she
on vacation? Or hungover? Was this a dream? The man walked toward her, and she squinted.
Wyatt?
Everything came rushing back. Getting on the plane with Wyatt, the alarm bells, the plane splitting apart. Her stomach churned,
and she rolled over, vomiting in the sand. Doing so awakened the nerves in her body, setting pain in motion.
Every limb ached. Her head throbbed with persistent pain that radiated outward like cracks on a windshield. A sharp pressure behind her eyes made it difficult to concentrate or even think clearly. Her hand grazed a bandage covering the right side of her forehead, the skin itchy beneath. Where had that come from? A knot the size of a golf ball had formed at the top of her skull, the source of her throbbing pain. Exploring further, she combed her fingers through a warm, sticky substance matting her hair to her head—blood. She pulled her hand away, shaking, her stomach churning. Hurting too much to move away from her vomit, she lay back in the sand and watched the clouds pass overhead.
“Hey, you’re awake!” Wyatt knelt beside her and wiped her mouth with a wet rag, relief flooding his voice. “I want you to
take two Advil if you think you can keep it down. Let’s start with some water and see how that goes.” He pressed a gentle
hand under her shoulders, guiding her upright, and the world spun again.
Wyatt steadied her and brought a canteen to her lips. “Take it slow.”
The fresh water tasted better than ice cream on a summer day, but Wyatt pulled it away before it quenched her thirst. Her
vision blurred, sea and sky melting into each other. The water helped, but only a little. Piper lay back, and Wyatt placed
the wet rag on her forehead. She wanted to ask him what had happened to her, and the plane, and if they would be okay, but
darkness swept over her before the words left her mouth.
It could have been a few hours or a few days, but eventually, Piper woke again with a clear head, no longer imprisoned by intense pain. She sat up inch by inch before raising her arms above her head in a long stretch. Her body creaked like the Tin Man in need of oil, and her head still throbbed, but the sharp pain was gone, making it easier to think. The knot on her head was smaller, and the cut on her forehead—at least she guessed that’s what was going on beneath the bandage—itched more than hurt. Satisfied she was no longer on the brink of death, she looked around. Where the hell were they?
High in the sky, the sun cast palm-frond-shaped shadows onto the sand. The fragrance of salt mixed with something acrid tinged
the damp air. From under the tiny hamlet of palm trees where she sat, the rolling ocean stretched on forever. The turquoise
water sparkled crystal clear, beautiful in an unnatural, too-bright way, like a real-life Instagram filter.
Only a few yards of sand existed between where she sat and where the ocean lapped the shore. Behind her, a maritime forest
presented a tangle of trees, brush, and roots. Down the beach on her right, the shoreline ran along the ocean for miles until
it curved out of sight. Meanwhile, a rocky cliff blocked her view of the ocean on the other side, sand quickly giving way
to jutting boulders decorated with moss. Everything grew wild, untouched by man, except for the burned-out husk of metal that
sat sculpture-like on the sand a short distance away.
Their plane.
Or what was left of it.
She could make out the red stripes of the aircraft, but flames had singed both wings black, and the metal was bent at odd
angles. The back half of the plane, the half she’d sat in for most of the flight, was nowhere in sight. Probably somewhere
in the Atlantic now. The wreckage reminded her of horrible car accidents depicted on TV—the kind where the Jaws of Life were
necessary to pry someone out.
The kind where no one survived.
Despite the warm air, a chill ran through her. She choked back a scream that threatened to wrench itself from her body. She’d
been hoping when she became coherent she’d discover they were not, in fact, crashed on a desolate beach. That she wasn’t stranded
with her ex.
No such luck.
Down by the water to her right, Wyatt dragged pieces of driftwood into a pile. His once white T-shirt was stained with dirt and dried blood—his or hers, she didn’t know. Swim trunks hung low on his hips. Strips of fabric were tied around his left arm, and though he favored his right side, he appeared in overall better shape than Piper. Actually, he was in great shape.
Piper swallowed hard, taking in the way Wyatt’s muscles rippled under his shirt as he dragged another log down the beach and
wiped sweat from his brow. There was no way around it—Wyatt was a bona fide hunk.
She squashed the thought like it was a pesky mosquito as soon as it swarmed in her mind.
Dirt and blood caked her body, and smoke clung to her hair. Everything itched, and she’d never felt so in need of a shower.
The endless ocean in front of her beckoned like a siren’s call, the crystal water promising relief to her aching body and
sunburned skin. She stood, testing her strength. The beach didn’t swim in front of her as it had done before. So far, so good.
After checking that Wyatt remained a respectful distance down the beach, she stripped down to her sports bra and underwear
and waded delicately into the ocean, sighing with delight as the cool water soothed her skin like an aloe bath. The waves
licked away the dried sweat from her body, and the salty water held her buoyant, rocking her like a baby.
Her throat tightened, and before she could stop them, hot tears sliced down her face, splashing onto the water’s surface before
becoming one with the salty sea. Once her first teardrop fell, it was impossible to hold back the onslaught of fear and shock
that poured out of her like a faucet. This couldn’t be real. Had she really survived a plane crash? Where were they, and how
would they get home? What if they never made it home? Wild thoughts raced through her mind, each one darker, more depressing
than the last.
Facing out at the blue water that stretched on as far as she could see, Piper tilted her head back and let out a primal wail, not caring if Wyatt heard her. She screamed at the ocean, the island, and their stranding until her voice grew raw and her body sagged back into the hug of the water.
Her mini meltdown hadn’t gotten her closer to rescue, but it had loosened the tight knot of fear in her chest. Minimally.
At the very least, she’d worn herself out.
Coming out of the water with the waves at her back was a little trickier than wading in, and she rocked unsteadily on her
feet in the wet, shifting sand. Her vision blurred, and her legs betrayed her, but strong arms scooped her into a fireman’s
hold before she’d even registered she was falling.
Too woozy to protest, she let Wyatt cradle her against his chest as he strode across the beach. His skin smoldered so warm
against her wet body that she half expected steam to rise from the places where their bodies touched. She clung to him, hating
how much she needed Wyatt’s sturdy arms right now. But more than that, she hated how much she’d missed being this close to
him, how badly she wanted to pull herself even closer. Wounded, half naked, wet, and defenseless, she’d never been more vulnerable,
yet somehow felt unreasonably safe in this moment. In Wyatt’s arms. She buried her tearstained face into his strong chest,
trying to calm her racing heart.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he murmured in her ear.
How long had she unconsciously craved the comfort of his hug, of his warm body holding her? She worried this tiny taste would
set her back years of getting over him, but it didn’t stop her from breathing in the still familiar scent of his neck.
Too soon, Wyatt set her down beneath a clump of palm trees. Piper instantly missed the warmth of his body and scrambled to steady herself, pulling on the fresh T-shirt he handed her. It must have been one of his because it fit Piper like a dress. She was thankful for the coverage, though it resembled a very “post hookup” look, which did funny things to her mind.
“You look a lot better. How’re you feeling?” Wyatt handed her a water bottle.
Piper took a long sip before answering. “Not great.” She tried to fight back the new round of tears forming in her eyes. “What
the hell happened? Where are we? Unless they grossly mismarketed the resort on their website, I’m guessing this isn’t the
Four Seasons Resort?” In her hoarse, scratchy voice, the joke came out flat. The tears rolling down her face didn’t add any
humor either.
Wyatt sat next to her, leaning back against a tree. Dark circles tarnished the hollows under his eyes, making his irises appear
lighter than usual.
“Unfortunately, no. If I had to guess, I’d say we’re somewhere between the Florida shore and Turks and Caicos.” He brushed
some sand off his arm. “I don’t know why we crashed. That storm came out of nowhere. I swear it wasn’t even on the radar,
and the wind forced me to fly too low. I think we may have hit some rocks or a tree, and the force of impact completely split
the plane.” He winced as if remembering the impact. “I leveled us, so we didn’t crash into the water or worse, but it was
a really close call, as you know.”
Piper gulped, wiping a tear from her eye. She far preferred stranded on dry land to shark bait. “I don’t remember any of it,”
she whispered.
“I’m not surprised.” Wyatt picked at the cuticle on his thumb. “I must have been thrown from the force of our landing because I ended up on the sand a few yards from the plane. It caught on fire, and you were still strapped into your seat. I somehow got you out of there, but you were out cold, and I could barely find a pulse.” He shook his head like he was trying to rid himself of the memory. “There was so much blood coming from your head. It was awful. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I didn’t even notice I’d burned my arm until you started breathing again.”
Piper wrapped her arms around herself in a hug. The charred and twisted hunk of metal down by the water made her stomach twist
in cold dread. How had they even survived that landing in the first place? She guessed she wouldn’t have without Wyatt.
Swallowing hard, she attempted a grateful smile in his direction. “How’s your arm now?”
Wyatt glanced at his bandage. “It’ll be better in a day or so.”
“Well, thanks for not letting me burn up in there,” Piper said lamely. How did you properly thank someone for saving your
life, especially when that someone was the guy who’d also broken your heart?
He shrugged like it was no big deal. Like he saved people from burning planes all the time. For all she knew, maybe he did.
Piper’s stomach growled like a cornered animal, interrupting her train of thought.
Without a word, Wyatt produced a granola bar from a camouflage backpack nearby and handed it to her. Piper tore off the wrapping
and bit into the chocolate oatmeal goodness, fighting the urge to cram the entire chewy bar into her mouth. She couldn’t remember
the last time she’d eaten. A muffin for breakfast at the airport? Had that been yesterday?
She took another bite. “How long have I been out of it?”
“About a day.”
So, she’d lost a night—Allie’s bachelorette night. Not ideal, but there still might be a way to make it to the wedding. Given
their circumstances, it was a wild, irrational thought, but one she needed to keep her sanity. The obstacles to them getting
to that point were not insignificant, but she wasn’t ready to abandon all hope.
She raised the bar to her lips and tore off another bite.
“Make that last,” Wyatt cautioned. “We both packed some snacks that survived the crash, but we should ration them until we find another food source.”
Piper swallowed hard at the gravity of his words and set the rest of the granola bar down. “Or until we’re rescued, right?
I’m sure by now my parents have the entire Coast Guard looking for us.” It was easier to think they were hanging out on a
beach with help right around the corner than that they were stuck in some twisted version of Swiss Family Robinson .
“Hopefully,” he said, his tone less than optimistic. “But in the meantime, we should build a shelter and find food and water.
Maybe see if we can start a fire—the usual.”
Piper narrowed her eyes. How was Wyatt so calm and confident about this when she wanted to vomit? Again. “The usual? Did you
take some sort of survival class that I missed in high school?”
“No, but I spent five years in the army and deployed overseas twice,” he reminded her. “You pick up a thing or two.”
Piper flushed. Of course! Why hadn’t she connected that sooner? Even with two years of medical school under her belt, he probably
knew more than she did. But then again, she’d never had to assess her talents and knowledge for basic survival skills in a
real-life crisis.
“I still can’t believe we crashed,” Piper murmured, more to herself than to Wyatt.
This was insane. In what world was she talking survival strategies with Wyatt—“Mr. Love ’Em and Leave ’Em”—of all people?
Any second, she’d wake up from this horrible dream and find herself back on the plane, about to land—safely—in the Bahamas
in time to celebrate with Allie.
The anxious energy coursing through her body forced her to stand. Another mini panic attack clawed its way up her throat.
Piper paced, still unsteady on her feet, and rubbed her forehead, trying to replant herself in the version of reality that
involved margaritas and wedding cake—away from this island nightmare.
Her hand came away warm and sticky—she’d reopened the gash on her head. At the sight of blood, her body broke out in a cold sweat, the way it did when she was called on in class and she didn’t know the answer.
She sank back down to the sand, taking several long, practiced breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. Even
talking about body-fluid-related medical ailments made her queasy, but she was used to hiding from her classmates how ill-equipped
she was for a career as a surgeon. Except back home, she had a prescription for Xanax to get her through the harder days.
She also had her parents’ daily phone calls cheering her every step of the way. Here, she didn’t have the energy to put on
a brave face.
“Do we have any more bandages?” Her voice shook as much as her hand, and more tears prickled her eyes.
Wyatt looked at her like she’d sprouted an extra nose but hopped up and returned with a strip of cloth and some bandage tape.
“I thought you were studying to be a doctor. Wasn’t that the plan? How’s a little blood freaking you out this much?”
“I’m only halfway through medical school,” Piper said, focusing on breathing. Blood dripped from her head into the sand, making
wavy lines appear in her vision like a flickering TV. “Do you want to chat about my career path, or do you want to help me?”
“Hold still. I’m helping.”
Piper froze as Wyatt brushed her hair away from her face and wiped some of her blood off with the edge of his shirt. Doing
so exposed the smooth skin of his hard stomach, and a deep pull tightened in her gut at his light touch. She concentrated
on remaining as still as possible, closing her eyes to avoid being caught ogling his body, but she couldn’t block out the
tingle dancing up her spine from his touch.
“There, all set.” Wyatt stepped back and examined his handiwork. “Try not to touch it again. It could’ve used stitches, and you’ll likely have a scar, but it looks worse than it is. Head injuries always bleed more.”
Piper squirmed and wiped her bloodied hands off on the sand. “Can we please stop talking about blood and cuts?”
One corner of Wyatt’s mouth twisted upward. “I guess it’s a good thing that you needed bandaging instead of me.”
Piper wasn’t ready to joke about this just yet, but her body relaxed with the sight of blood behind her. She’d forgotten how
much of a natural caretaker Wyatt could be. Probably because he’d grown up taking care of his mom. Watching him jump into
action to patch her back up reminded her of the many animals he’d rescued over the years, like the baby fox he’d found whimpering
in the dark the summer after ninth grade. He’d bottle-fed it until the kit regained enough strength to be released back into
the wild. Or the pregnant stray cat who’d trusted Wyatt enough to give birth in the clubhouse under his care. The runt of
the litter, Peregrine, was living a life of luxury with Aunt Molly, and her littermates had all been adopted by loving homes.
And that didn’t include the many times he’d swept in and rescued his friends.
Rescued her.
Until he’d been the one she’d needed rescuing from.
Thinking about her dead and buried relationship with Wyatt was the kick in the pants she needed to snap into action. He may
be fine playing cool, calm Island Ken, but she couldn’t just sit around chatting with him like they were old friends at a
beach party. The window for repairing their relationship had closed long ago, no matter how much she missed him. She couldn’t
afford to fall for his charm and nurse another broken heart for years. She needed to get to that wedding and get on with her
life.
But first, she needed a plan.