Chapter Twenty
Now
Wyatt snapped open a Coke with a pop, took a sip, and handed it to Piper. The fizzy bubbles danced on her tongue, coating
her throat with the sweet syrup—impossibly delicious. It acted as a touchstone to home, of stealing sips of soda as a child
from her dad, late-night study sessions with Allie, and her go-to college drink: Captain and Coke. She passed the soda back
to Wyatt, biting the inside of her cheek as his mouth pressed against the top of the can in the exact spot hers had. What
would he do if she leaned over and captured his lips with her own?
“Hey, can you show me where you found the Yeti?” Wyatt broke through Piper’s reckless thoughts.
She raised an eyebrow, curious. “It was right in front of the cliffside. Why? Do you think there could be more where it came
from?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure. Probably not, but I’ll feel better if we check.”
They left the Yeti with the radio and trekked back toward the cliffside. The tide crawled to shore, moving farther up the
sand with every crashing wave, erasing the traces of Piper’s previous footsteps and sending crabs skittering for cover. When
they met the rocky wall, the sandy path that once outlined the cliff was covered in a foot of water.
That didn’t stop Wyatt from barreling forward.
“Watch out for rocks,” Piper cautioned, even though she knew there was no point in lecturing him when he had that determined look in his eyes. She followed at a slower, more careful pace, picking around rocks and shells.
“There!” Wyatt exclaimed from the other side of the protruding cliff. “Do you see that?”
The sun staggered toward the horizon, casting beams of light at sharp angles onto the water. Piper caught up with him and
craned her neck to follow Wyatt’s finger. Sure enough, something metallic sparkled in the water, lodged on a reef or sandbar
far out at sea. It was hard to tell exactly what it was over the choppy waves, which had strengthened as the tide turned.
Wyatt shaded his eyes with his hand. “I think it’s our plane or what’s left of it. Do you see that red stripe? I bet it got
brought in by the storm last night.”
“Maybe.” Piper didn’t want him to get his hopes up.
“I’m going to swim out there and see. There could be more food or something to help us out.”
Piper’s eyes widened. She put a hand on Wyatt’s arm, stopping him from diving headfirst into the water. “I don’t know if that’s
a good idea, Wyatt. I know you’re a strong swimmer, but those waves are getting bigger, and it could be farther away than
it looks. Plus, I doubt you slept well last night.”
He waved her off. “If we wait for the water to calm down, it could get washed back out and we’ll miss our chance. Besides,
I’ve eaten better today than any day since being here. And for the first time on this island, I’m caffeinated! There’s no
way I’m not going to check it out.”
“Rescue is coming tomorrow. Why risk it when we’re so close to getting off this island?” Why did he always have to press his luck?
“The same reason you swam out to get the Yeti. We can’t count on rescue. They were delayed before and could be again. I don’t want to pass up an opportunity to see what other supplies we might find. What if it’s the difference between life and death?”
She should have guessed he wouldn’t listen to her. “Then I’m coming with you.” She wasn’t about to let him do something foolish
alone.
He sized her up with a long, even stare as if trying to measure her current level of stubbornness. She lifted her chin and
met his gaze.
He let out a breath. “Fine, but if I say the current’s too strong, we call it off, deal?”
“Deal.”
For the second time that day, Piper stripped down to her bathing suit, tossing her clothes onto the sand, away from the approaching
tide line. Wyatt waded in hip deep before cutting a clean line out to the visible tip of the plane, skimming under waves that
threatened to smash him to the ocean floor. Following in his wake, Piper struggled to keep up, cursing every wave that forced
her under. She didn’t take a full breath until they crossed over the barrier of the biggest waves, to where the water was
calmer, but not by much.
Up close, she could tell the twisted metal structure was indeed their plane. Only the tail poked through the water, bent like
a broken arm, a bright red stripe signaling its identity. Treading water several yards back, she watched as Wyatt reached
the plane and dove underwater. He came up empty and swam to the other side of the plane, fighting the current. Diving back
down, he stayed under longer this time before finally resurfacing with a sharp inhale.
He waved an orange box in the air at her. “Flares!”
Piper stroked closer, and he tossed her the plastic container. It floated in the water until she could grab it, waterlogged
but otherwise undamaged.
“Be careful,” he warned. “The waves are acting funny around this reef. The tide’s creating an unpredictable current pattern.”
“Let’s head back then.”
But he ignored her, determination gleaming in his eyes. “I saw a bag of something, peanuts or pretzels maybe, sticking out
of an overhead bin, or what’s left of it. Wait here; I’m going to try to get it.” He took a deep breath and tipped headfirst
back underwater.
Piper treaded water, her arms aching against the relentless waves, trying not to think about how far out they had swum. From
out here, their beach resembled a scene from a postcard instead of their home for the past four days. What would happen if
they kept swimming away from the shore? Would they find help? Another beach? Or run into a shiver of sharks before getting
too far?
Piper turned back to the place where Wyatt had vanished. Somewhere beneath the waves, her original plane seat rested. Her
stomach churned with bile thinking of how close she’d been to a watery demise, strapped to this ocean death trap forever.
A murky undertow caused by the storm marred the usually crystal-clear ocean, making it hard to spot Wyatt. Not being able
to see him made her nervous. What was taking so long?
She counted to ten. There was no reason to worry; Wyatt swam like a pro athlete. He was probably working on getting whatever
he had seen loose. Even so, panic forced the air from her lungs as visions of worst-case scenarios filled her head. She couldn’t
lose him. Not now, not like this.
When bubbles broke the surface a few feet to her right, she acted on instinct, letting go of the orange box and diving under,
ignoring her fear of being submerged in water.
After a few sharp strokes downward, she spotted Wyatt’s dark hair. Why wasn’t he swimming in the right direction? Kicking
closer, she hooked her arms under his shoulders and yanked him upward as hard as possible.
Together they crashed through the surface.
Wyatt sputtered, then coughed up a mouthful of ocean water before gulping in a shaky breath of air.
“What happened down there? You scared me!” Piper couldn’t help the shrillness of her voice. She had more to say, but the dullness
in Wyatt’s eyes and the pinch of his face stopped her.
Something was wrong.
“A swell knocked me into the plane. I hit my head, and I got all turned around.” Wyatt gasped for air. “I think I cut my leg
on something, too.”
Piper pushed aside visions of sharks sniffing out blood if he’d cut himself. “Come on, let’s get you back to shore and take
a look.”
“Grab the flare kit first,” he grunted.
Piper wanted to argue with him, but she knew it would waste time, and she didn’t know the extent of his injuries. She swam
to the orange container she’d left floating behind and then came back to help Wyatt, putting his arm around her shoulders
for support.
He clenched his jaw and kept his gaze anchored on the shoreline, now farther away than Piper remembered, as they painstakingly
paddled their way back. When they got close enough to stand, Piper snaked an arm around his waist, encouraging him to lean
on her. The pit in her stomach worsened when he didn’t fight off her help.
Wyatt stumbled out of the water before sinking onto the beach. A trail of blood dripped down his leg and into the sand from
a cut on his shin. Recoiling at the sight, Piper ran and grabbed her T-shirt. Breathing in through her nose and out through
her mouth, she snapped into doctor mode and applied pressure to his wound with her shirt. Wyatt remained unusually quiet as
she fussed over him, holding his head in his hands.
The bleeding stopped quickly, and when she mustered up the courage to look, she saw that the cut wasn’t as deep as she’d feared. More of a bad scratch that should heal on its own in a few days. Thank goodness. His head wasn’t bleeding, but who knows how hard he’d hit it or how much saltwater he’d ingested in the shock of being struck. Chances were good he had a concussion, but he was alive and still here with her.
That’s what mattered most.
Piper let out a trembling breath. Those few seconds he hadn’t resurfaced had crystallized the depth of her feelings for him.
Feelings locked away so tight she had believed they’d never break free—but she hadn’t planned for a plane crash or a near-death
experience. Or how good it felt being close to Wyatt again—or how hot he looked with a few days’ worth of stubble.
She’d ignored the shifting energy between them earlier, but now it came into sharp focus. Her desire to keep the barbed wire
up around her heart washed away completely. She wanted to take care of him, protect him like he’d been doing for her since
they’d crashed—since she’d known him.
Wyatt lifted his head. “Am I going to make it, Doc?”
“You’re going to make it. I’m more worried about your head than your cut, which looks okay.” Piper tied a strip of her T-shirt
around his leg, protecting the cut from the elements. “But I wish we had something better to clean it out.”
He groaned. “Is this where I get my ‘I told you’ so lecture? Because I deserve it. I should have listened to you.”
She laughed out loud. “I gave up trying to get you to listen to me long ago.”
“Wow. I must really be hurt if you’re letting me off the hook so easily.” Wyatt meant it as a joke, but he shifted positions
and winced in pain at the new movement. He gritted his teeth. “Ugh, I feel like I’ve been through the spin cycle of a washing
machine. I’m going to have the worst headache tomorrow.”
Seeing Wyatt—her strong, brave Wyatt—in pain brought unwitting tears to her eyes. “I hate that you got hurt.”
He lifted his head at the catch in her voice. “Hey, this is nothing compared to what I’ve been through. And nothing compared to what could have happened if you hadn’t been there to drag my butt back to shore. I’ll be fine.”
Piper attempted to smile at him, but her mouth wavered with emotion. She kept picturing him beneath the waves, imagining what
would have happened if he’d been too injured to swim back to shore. Or if he hadn’t resurfaced at all. Her heart wrenched,
and a tear spilled down her face. She turned away from Wyatt, embarrassed about crying when she should be comforting him.
Tenderly, he wiped the tear off her cheek with his thumb, replacing the tear stain with prickling desire. When she turned
back to him, his face was mere inches from hers. His eyes mirrored her emotions—fear and longing.
She didn’t know who moved first, but his lips closed over hers, urgent and warm. The fire that shot through her veins burned
her from the inside out, paralyzing her. Tantalizing her. Maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through her blood, the years
of history between them, or the incredible sensation of Wyatt’s lips moving over hers. Whatever it was, the riptide of desire
swept her away, and she didn’t fight it.
Though it was under the most extraordinary circumstances, kissing Wyatt still felt like the most natural thing in the world.