3 #3
My voice comes out snappier than I intended, but I just want to lay down and sleep. I don’t want everyone fussing over me. He leans in, and for a moment, he is so close I can smell the salt and smoke on his skin.
“You sick?” he asks. He doesn’t say it softly, but he says it with a concern so raw it doesn’t need volume.
“I’m fine.”
“She’s not,” Tatiana calls and I throw a scowl in her direction.
“I am,” I say again, before he can answer.
He leans in, lowering his voice. “You’re not well, Grace. Let us help before it gets worse. You matter to us and we need you.”
The words land with more weight than I want to let them, so I just shrug like I don’t care.
But he’s relentless. “I’ll make you some electrolytes, and we have some Tylenol left.”
“I’m not taking that,” I say, shaking my head. “No. Someone might need that more than me. I’m fine, I just need to rest.”
His face hardens. “I’m not listenin’ to your bullshit. I’m getting it. Sit.”
With that, he turns and walks away, leaving me no room to argue.
Ace brings me back some electrolytes and painkillers, and Aggie gives me no choice but to take them. I do, and the relief is almost immediate. I finish making my bed again, then I spend the rest of the afternoon in a restless sleep.
When night falls, I wake to the sound of Zeke cursing softly.
The rain has come in, pounding the rocks, and he is trying to re-tarp a corner of the cave with a sheet of plastic they took from the shipwreck.
“Fucking useless,” he mutters, then glances at me when I go to move.
“Don’t get up. You look dead on your feet. ”
“Thanks,” I rasp.
Ace appears from their camp, looking wet and pissed.
He ignores everyone and stokes the fire which we have managed to get lit under the overhanging rock.
I watch him for a long time, trying to figure out what is happening in his head.
After a while, Zeke goes over to him, and the two exchange tense whispers.
Tatiana comes over, squatting by my bed. She peers at me, then glances at Ace. “You two get back together yet?”
I cough. “Zip it, woman.”
She laughs, softly. “You know where I’d be if I wasn’t stuck here?”
“Where.”
“At the finest hotel money could buy, laying in my robe on the bed, eating room service food and drinking wine right from the bottle.”
I understand that.
“You miss home?”
“Every second. Even the shitty parts.” She pauses. “I’d take the worst hangover over this. Do you?”
I shake my head. “Not home, as such, but yeah I would do anything to get back there.”
“I’m going to get you some water,” she whispers. “You’re flushed.”
She gets up and walks off. I wrap my arms around myself and try not to shiver. I stare at the fire until my eyes burn, and when I finally get up to pee in the brush at the edge of the cave, I catch a glimpse of him—alone, standing at the edge of the trees, back to us, hands balled up at his sides.
Ace, again.
He looks like something is eating him alive.
Maybe it is.
I try to sneak past, my head pounding, but he turns when he hears my footsteps.
Our eyes meet.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
He turns, walking closer to me, his eyes narrowed. “You look like hell.”
“I feel it,” I admit.
Without thought, he reaches out and his hand rests against my forehead. “Fuck, Grace, you’re burning up.”
“Oh,” I whisper.
“Go lay down, I’m goin’ to get something for you.”
“I don’t want anything else, Ace. It isn’t fair if someone gets sick and I have used it all.”
“Can you just fuckin’ trust me,” he mutters.
I press my mouth closed.
He disappears and I go back to my bed, lying down, my head pounding in a way that makes it hard for me to focus on anything else.
The ache in my body is growing, as if every muscle has been worked to its absolute limit.
Scratching at a heap of mosquito bites on my legs, I roll to my side and try to relieve the pressure in my back. But there is no point. It doesn’t work.
Ace returns less than five minutes later with a cloth soaked in water.
Kneeling beside me, he places it against my forehead.
The relief is immediate, and I sigh. His hand, warm and calloused, brushes against my skin, feeling the temperature and then he sits beside me, without question or invitation.
I don’t have it in me to fight him.
“Tell me what you’re feelin’,” he murmurs, keeping the cloth against my forehead.
“Mostly my head pounding, all my muscles aching and just tired. So fucking tired.”
He goes quiet again.
“I’m movin’ our camp back here. We can’t keep goin’ on like this.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off.
“You can fuckin’ hate me all you want, Grace, but the fact is that we are in this together and I’m not leavin’ any of you unguarded again. Not after what we just had show up.”
I don’t bother arguing, because honestly, what is there to argue about?
We’re all stuck here, and that isn’t changing anytime soon.
He doesn’t say anything else, just keeps that cool cloth pressed to my head like he can will me back to health if he tries hard enough.
It’s awkward, this closeness after weeks of keeping a safe, angry distance, but I’m too exhausted to move or protest. Instead, I close my eyes for a second, letting my body rest against the flat rock beneath me.
The fabric against my forehead is heaven.
I feel myself starting to float, not fully asleep but not quite present either, and it hits me how simple this moment is compared to everything that came before.
Just Ace, just me, just the ache in my bones and the warm weight of his hand.
He clears his throat, a low rumble, like he’s about to say something important and my eyes flutter open.
“Tell me there will come a time you’ll forgive me. ”
He says it low, so low I wonder if I’m just imagining it.
I swallow, my throat burning.
“For whatever it’s worth, and I’m sure that is fuckin’ nothin’,” he goes on, “but I wouldn’t have done it. When I signed up, I was desperate to help my family, the only family I knew. Then I met you, and...I wouldn’t have done it. I would have found a way to get you all safe.”
I squeeze my eyes closed, my feelings stirring deep inside me. “I...I can’t do this tonight.” My voice cracks at the end and I decide that’s it—I’m done fighting, at least for tonight.
The exhaustion is too much.
The hand with the rag pulls away a second, then returns softer than before.
“That’s fine, but I’m not leaving. Not while you’re like this.
” The words dangle there, and I don’t trust myself to answer, because if I open my mouth I know it’ll just be more pointless words or worse, something that sounds like hope.
Instead, I let go. I let the exhaustion pull me under. I don’t know if I’m asleep or dreaming, but as I drift, I swear I hear his voice again, quieter than the rain outside and almost gentle. “I’m right here, Gracie. I won’t hurt you again.”
And in that weightless moment, I let myself believe him.