CHAPTER THIRTY
C al
I wake up feeling like someone stuffed my stomach with sand and slimy fish.
The shelter is dim, gray light filtering through the woven palm fronds, and for a moment I can’t remember where I am.
Then Jason’s arm tightens around me, and it all comes flooding back—the island, the storm, the way he held me last night.
But something’s wrong. My stomach churns ominously.
“Jason,” I whisper, then immediately regret speaking as nausea rolls through me.
He’s awake instantly, athletic reflexes at work. “Hey. You okay?”
I try to sit up, and the world tilts sideways. “I don’t—” My stomach clenches, and I know I’m about to be sick.
“Shit.” Jason’s already moving, helping me scramble toward the shelter opening. I barely make it outside before I’m retching into the sand, bringing up what little coconut I had yesterday. My whole body shakes with the effort.
Jason’s hand is warm on my back, rubbing gentle circles. “It’s okay. Get it out.”
When I’m finally done, I slump back against him, exhausted. “Sorry. Fuck, that’s disgusting.”
“Hey.” He brushes my hair back from my forehead, and I can see the worry in his eyes. He presses his palm to my forehead, then my cheeks. “You’re burning up.”
“Cold,” I mumble, even though I can feel sweat beading on my skin.
“I know, baby. Come on, let’s get you back inside.” He helps me crawl into the shelter. He doesn’t follow me. “One moment.”
God, this is so embarrassing. I was sick in front of him? There’s no way to come back from this. He’s probably running to the other side of the beach to retch or something...
He reappears holding a coconut half.
My stomach lurches. “Don’t want to eat.”
“Rainwater. Drink it.” He holds the coconut shell up to my lips.
I focus on sipping and pretend the world isn’t spinning and my throat isn’t made of acid.
His fingers ruffle through my hair, and it’s the only thing that feels good right now.
“Cal, I’m going to see if I can find anything else for you to eat.
” He sets some other coconut shells beside me. “Try to drink as much as you can.”
Panic flares in my chest. “Don’t go far.”
“I won’t. I promise.” He shifts so he can look at me. “You’re going to be okay. This is probably your body telling us we need to diversify our diet.” He kisses my forehead. “Rest. I’ll be right back.”
After he leaves, I curl up and try not to think about how mortifying this is.
When he returns twenty minutes later, his expression is grim. “I couldn’t find anything. Sorry.”
I give a weak smile. “It’s okay. I’m too sick to eat.”
For some reason, the statement seems to make him look more worried.
“I should have tried to cook shrimp when the fire was going. I’m sorry. I-I didn’t think about that.”
“I didn’t think about that either. Besides, I remember having a good time yesterday.”
His eyes go soft. “Yeah. Once it’s no longer wet, I can start a new fire. Maybe tomorrow if we’re lucky.”
“Thank you. I know this isn’t...” I gesture vaguely at myself, probably looking like a sweaty, pale mess. “This isn’t exactly fun.”
“Cal, you know all the bad parts of me, and you still hold me and make me feel accepted. I’ll do anything for you.”
“You’re not that bad.”
“See?” He grins, kisses my forehead again, then crawls out of the shelter.
And despite feeling absolutely terrible, something warm and bright blooms in my chest.
JASON
The rain washed away our signs during the night. Fragments of palm fronds and twigs are scattered across both beaches, our careful work erased. I rebuild them in letters large enough to be seen from the air.
I then head into the jungle, pushing deeper than I’ve gone before. The canopy is thick here, blocking most of the sun, and everything smells rich and green and alive.
That’s when I spot them: a cluster of yellow-green fruit hanging from a tree.
Bananas.
Small ones, not quite ripe, but unmistakably real food.
I scramble up the tree and manage to break off a whole bunch.
I did it. I actually found food. Real food that might not make Cal sicker.
I’m practically bouncing as I half-run, half-stumble back toward our camp, clutching the bananas like they’re made of gold. “Cal!” I call out as soon as I can see our shelter. “Cal, you’re not going to believe what I found!”
He’s sitting up when I reach him, looking better than he has all day. When he sees the bananas, his whole face lights up.
“Are those real?”
“Super real!” I drop down beside him. “I found a whole tree. More than one tree.”
“Jason, you’re amazing.”
I peel one carefully and take a tiny bite. It’s tart, not as sweet as store-bought, but definitely banana. “See? Still alive.”
Cal laughs, the first real laugh I’ve heard from him since he got sick. “My hero.”
I’m about to make some joke about being his jungle survival expert when I hear it.
A distant humming sound.
We both freeze.
“Do you hear that?” Cal whispers.
The sound is getting louder.
I scramble to my feet, squinting up at the sky through the palm fronds. “There—” I point as a dark shape appears over the treeline. “It’s a helicopter.”
I pull Cal up, both of us staring as the helicopter circles our island, then starts to descend toward the beach.
“The signs worked! They found us!”
We’re both shouting, waving our arms like maniacs, even though the helicopter is absolutely landing. I grab Cal’s hand without thinking, but he drops it.
The helicopter touches down in a whirlwind of sand and noise.
The door opens and people start climbing out—a pilot, then a man in an expensive suit who looks familiar.
He flashes an anchor worthy smile. Which makes sense, because he is a sports anchor. Though I have no idea what he’s doing here.
“That’s not...”
“That’s my boss.”
Rex Manley. I recognize him from television and the press room. Sports Sphere’s biggest name.
A younger guy with bleached hair jumps out after him. He’s another reporter. Jeremy something or other. Shit. Is this Cal’s roommate? It must be.
“Cal! Holy shit, we thought you were dead!” Jeremy pulls Cal into a fierce hug.
I stand there awkwardly, suddenly aware I’m shirtless, covered in dirt and scratches, and holding a bunch of bananas like a caveman.
Rex approaches me with that television smile. “Jason Larvik. Nice to find you alive.”
“Happy to be alive.” My gaze keeps drifting to Cal and his roommate, but I force myself to look at Rex. “I, uh, didn’t expect to see you here.”
Rex snorts. “Nope. Wasn’t planned. You two gave us a fright.”
And then something else occurs to me.
All this time I thought I wasn’t supposed to sleep with Cal, he was thinking the same thing.
Because he’s a journalist, and I’m his interview subject.
And journalists have rules too.
Rex is a man who notices everything.
He can watch entire games and know how each player played. He watches the puck and the defensive strategy.
I inhale.
It’s fine.
The important thing is that Cal and I have been discovered.
Because perhaps we’ve only been gone for four nights, but the fear of it stretching out endlessly was on my mind.
Everyone has heard those stories of World War II fighters being discovered on tiny tropical islands in the Pacific after being stranded for decades.
I didn’t want that to happen to us, but even though I never told him, I feared it would.
Acid prickles my stomach lining.
Jeremy is fussing over Cal, checking him for injuries, offering him water and energy bars from a backpack.
I look down at the bananas in my hands and feel ridiculous.
I turn to Rex who has an odd expression on his face. But then, he’s probably not used to seeing open affection between men.
Rex used to be an athlete, back when teams were even more homophobic than they are now.
I force a smile on my face. “Thank you for rescuing us.”
“I came for my employee,” Rex says, his voice dismissive.
“Right.” I blink. “I didn’t mean to imply you would have come halfway around the world for me.”
“Of course.”
I try to keep my expression bland. “Are there many people at the hotel?”
“It’s a five-star resort during high season, Jason. Naturally there are.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh.” This time he has the decency to look embarrassed. I’ve said too much. My instinct is to be cold. This feelings business is difficult.
Because he knows I’m really asking if anyone has come for me.
My family.
My—
Well, I don’t have friends. Hockey has taken up too much time. My friends on other teams are now my rivals, and my current colleagues despise me.
“I assume you’re behind this?” I ask.
“They thought you were dead,” Rex says. “Your jet skis were found floating.”
My pulse quickens, and for a moment, I’m right back there. “Cal’s jet ski broke down, so I took him on mine. And then that jet ski was swept off into sea.”
“The hotel thought the worst. They did look for you, but not on this island.”
“We were headed for another one.”
Rex gives a curt nod.
“I owe you a huge thank you,” I say. “Thank you for finding us.”
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Rex says, but his words are stiff, and his direction remains focused on Cal and Jeremy who are chattering quickly on the side.
This is good.
This is amazing.
But worry bubbles through me all the same.