CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
C al
MY EYES FLICK OPEN . Last night’s inky black sky has melted away, replaced with familiar pastels that do not belong in nightmares.
Something’s beside me.
I freeze, then turn my head.
It’s Jason.
He’s only a few inches away, curled toward me, hands tucked under his head. I blink, confused. He wasn’t here when I fell asleep.
His mouth is slightly open. He’s snoring. It should be annoying, but somehow... it’s not. His blond hair’s mussed, his brow faintly drawn as if he’s fighting a battle even in sleep. Absolutely typical of him.
I watch the moment his eyelids open. I dart my gaze away like I wasn’t watching him sleep, which, okay, technically I was. But only because I was surprised to see him.
“You were on the other side of the beach,” I say.
He stiffens, and when I look back at him, his features have twisted and hardened.
I look toward the ocean. Something is different. “Good morning.”
Jason pushes himself up. “Still in paradise.”
“Yup.” I nod at the crystal blue ocean. I scramble for my sunglasses and put them on.
I groan and massage my shoulder. “Fuck.”
Jason eyes me. “I’m still not giving you a massage, Prescott.”
“I still didn’t ask for one!”
Jason’s lips curve into a grin, and he turns his attention to the water.
Right. I probably should have been looking there too.
“Any boats?” I ask.
He exhales. “No. We’re probably off the major routes.”
“Huh.” I stare at the waves.
The place is ridiculously beautiful, like any advertisement for a tropical honeymoon ever.
Jason stands, slower than yesterday. His movements are stiff, and he winces.
“You still haven’t told me why you came over.”
He hesitates. “I heard a scream. I wanted to check you were okay.”
I blink. “Oh. That’s... nice.”
He rolls his eyes. “I was trying to make sure you weren’t getting murdered by a crab.”
He stalks off, and I can’t help watching him go... until I remember watching Jason is still on the Don’t List.
I follow Jason to the coconuts. “You said an animal screamed?”
“Maybe you had a nightmare.”
I bristle. “I wouldn’t—” I stop. Because maybe I would . Maybe I did.
“You looked calm,” he says softly. “When I checked.”
I nod, jaw tight. I don’t like the thought of my unconscious self being anything less than composed. I hate that it might have betrayed something I don’t remember.
“Could’ve been an owl,” Jason offers.
The ocean stretches in front of me—vast, endless, and empty.
But something’s wrong.
And then it hits me: our jet ski is missing.
I sprint to the shore, scanning wildly. Nothing.
Panic flickers in my chest. Then it ignites.
I rush toward Jason, who’s at the coconut tree. “The jet ski’s gone!”
Blood drains from his face. “For real?”
I nod. “I’m sorry.”
“I-I should’ve secured it better. It’s my fault. The waves were terrible last night, and the tide...”
“...swept it away.”
His face turns a gray shade I despise.
“It’s fine. Just thought you should know.”
“I’ll get coconuts.” I grab a stick. I don’t want Jason to think I’m weak. Or annoying. Or more of a mistake than I already am.
“Cal...” Jason’s voice is too gentle.
“I want to help. I am helpful.”
“You are.” His voice has a soothing quality I despise.
God. He can tell I’m rattled.
I jab at the sand with my stick. “I played hockey too, you know.”
“You were good.” He drops the rocks he’s gathered. “Want me to show you my technique?”
“Yeah. I’d like that.”
“You were a good hockey player. Everyone in that group was.”
“I’m not in the NHL.”
Jason smiles. “Pretty sure you don’t need to be in the NHL to knock a coconut out of a tree.”
The warmth in his voice settles in my chest.
“You’re being nice to me,” I murmur.
“I’m a nice person.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Usually,” he adds with a sigh. “Look, I didn’t exactly come off great to my teammates.”
“I don’t think ‘quiet’ was the issue.”
He hesitates. “I was... jealous.” His own words seem to surprise him. “Never mind.”
“We can talk about it.”
He eyes me warily.
“Off the record,” I promise. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you jet ski alone. You probably wouldn’t have gotten stranded.”
He shrugs. “Maybe I’d have taken the bad jet ski. Maybe no one would’ve come back for me.”
A sour taste invades my throat, and someone has put my heart on a merry-go-round. “But that’s not what happened.”
“No,” Jason agrees, voice gruffer now. “And in this version of events? I’m glad I’m here with you. I don’t like that you’re stuck here, but... I’m grateful I’m not alone.”
My breath catches. “Thank you.” I swallow. “And... thanks for rescuing me.”
“I would never have left you on purpose,” Jason says. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
I can’t speak. The world tilts and dims, and I tighten my grip around the stick until splinters puncture my hand.
Jason gently takes the stick and rock from my hand and sets them down. “I have an idea.”
“What?”
“We can make a signal in the sand in case a helicopter passes.”
“Like write H, E, L, P?”
“Uh, huh. But let’s use sticks.”
I beam, and his chest widens with something like pride.
We head into the jungle together.
Jason walks ahead, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt as he gathers branches. He tears off leaves, working with quiet focus.
I stare a little too long. Not because I’m besotted. I’m not .
It’s just nice he’s not dreadful.