Chapter Eight
Jules
I never imagined I’d be spending a night in bed with Darren again, and maybe it’s fitting that it’s so uncomfortable.
Darren and I have slept side by side for two years, but tonight it’s all elbows and knees.
I can feel him getting annoyed by the sound of my breathing and by the fronds rustling whenever I shift.
Never mind that the rain is a racket all on its own.
I roll towards Mathieu, hoping he’ll be less annoyed by me.
“Are you cold?” Mathieu whispers. He scoots close, gently draping his leg over mine and slipping his arm up my side. I make a startled sound as icy fingers make contact with my waist, where my shirt is rucked up.
“Sorry.” Mathieu withdraws his hand.
I catch his arm, guiding it back. “Warm up your fingers.”
Mathieu’s soft exhales are warm across my collarbones.
He scoots closer, hand rubbing slow circles beneath my shoulder blades, then between them, then above them.
My eyelids flutter shut. Without thinking, I nuzzle in, burying my face against his warm throat, pressing a kiss to his skin. His pulse jumps.
“Are you cold?” Darren asks.
I tense, and quietly angle my face so even though I’m buried in Mathieu’s neck, I’m not kissing skin. I shouldn’t have done that. He’s just warm, and he’s nice. Tears sting behind my eyes. I keep them screwed shut.
“It’s hard to get warm when we’re all in thin shirts and shorts,” Mathieu answers.
“A blanket would be nice,” Darren says. “Here.” He rolls onto his side, thigh hiking up over mine and Mathieu’s already intertwined legs. His arm comes next, encircling both of us. He’s flush against my back. “At least we have body heat. Am I squishing you, Jules?”
“No.”
Mathieu’s breaths feel warm and comforting. Darren’s don’t. The very air he exhales is heavy with annoyance.
“Try to get some sleep,” Darren says. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”
Is he talking to me?
Mathieu rubs my back in soft circles, his hand a barrier between Darren and me.
I relax again. I’m being silly. Holding on to grudges when we’re shipwrecked on an island.
Darren probably wasn’t annoyed by me breathing or moving around, but by how uncomfortable it is.
The shelter isn’t keeping us dry. Water is dripping on my waist, and every few minutes, a breeze flurries droplets in on top of us.
The night passes excruciatingly slowly. The pounding rain drowns out the sound of scary rustling, but not my thoughts.
The ache in my neck is too intense to push from my mind.
But worse than my body or the elements is Darren, awake behind me.
His shuffling, the rain doesn’t drown out.
I’m too aware of it. I’m glad that Mathieu is in the lean-to.
The rain finally lets up as the first glow of dawn lightens the sky. Mathieu is breathing regularly, asleep. Darren leans in and presses his mouth against my ear as his hand slides across my throat. “Nice holiday, Jules.”
I go rigid. “The—”
The hand on my throat tightens, fingers digging in. “If it’s not bad enough that you got us shipwrecked, you have to spend the whole time lying around, ordering us about while you slack off? And on top of that, you’re flirting with Mathieu?”
The muscles in my neck spasm, pain shooting into my shoulders.
“You’re taking advantage of him being a nice guy, doing the whole injured-puppy act.” Darren’s voice is laced with disgust. I grip the hand at my throat, but I know from previous experience it’s better to let Darren say what he wants and release me himself.
“Stop embarrassing yourself. Everyone can see how obvious you’re being, and it’s pathetic.”
Mathieu stirs.
The hand at my neck vanishes. I drag in a breath that sounds harsh in the still morning air.
Mathieu tenses. “Jules? Are you okay?”
“Just a nightmare,” Darren says. “I don’t blame him.” He sits up. “I’m going to see if there are any lights on the horizon. Jules, I’ll get you some water on the way back.” His hand brushes over my ankle as he leaves.
Mathieu does that soothing stroking down my back again, rubbing circles. My breathing levels. A figure appears and kneels in the spot Darren vacated.
“How are we doing in here?” Cillian asks.
“It was cold all night,” Mathieu says. “And Jules’s neck is hurting him.”
“Yeah, that rain wasn’t getting stopped by anything.” Cillian brushes his hand lightly against the back of my neck, drawing a groan from me. Mathieu makes a sympathetic sound, and Darren’s accusation rings in my ear. Injured-puppy act.
“I’m not acting injured. I am injured.”
Cillian’s mouth twitches. “If you’d do me the favour of ‘acting’ injured today, I’d appreciate it. You are forbidden from moving around. You can sit up to eat and drink, walk down the beach if nature calls, and that is it.”
“I agree,” Mathieu says.
I’m not even sure I can turn my head right now. “Mhm.”
Mathieu and Cillian exchange a worried look. Cillian leans in to study my face. “Do you have a headache? Why aren’t you arguing?”
“I’m tired.”
Cillian squeezes my arm. “We need to get some calories into you. Seán saw fruit trees inland, so I’m going to go with him to gather food for everyone.”
“I can help,” Mathieu offers.
“I’d rather you stay here with Jules. Make sure he ‘acts’ injured.”
“Should I tie him up?”
“If you need to.”
“Guys.”
“I’ll set some vines aside,” Cillian continues.
“You’re not funny. Either of you.”
Mathieu makes a sorry sound in his throat, petting my hair. “Was someone telling jokes?” he asks.
I scowl.
Cillian chuckles. “Alright, you get the idea. Just take it easy.”
I’m the last to get up. The clouds are gone, and the sun shines down brightly on the beach.
The others drag out the fronds we slept on to use as cushioned seats.
Mathieu won’t let me help. I’m not the only one who’s tired, and I can see it in everyone’s faces that they’re equally disgruntled about not being able to brush their teeth.
Cillian returns with a bunch of bananas, while Seán has a bundle of figs stuffed into his makeshift sling, alongside a large handful of green leaves.
My stomach is more settled than last night, and I eat everything Mathieu puts into my hands.
I make sure my gaze doesn’t cross Darren’s, but I feel his stare as Mathieu continues to stick to my side.
“This, you are all going to appreciate,” Seán announces. He gives everyone a handful of the green plant.
I sniff it and brighten. “Mint?”
“Thank God!” Mary exclaims.
We all chew, and whether it’s the fresh taste or the food in our stomachs, the mood rebounds.
I cast a look over the group and push Darren’s accusations aside as I draw in a deep breath. “Should we move our setup?”
There’s a series of puzzled looks.
“We’re exposed to the wind here. It’s warm now, but I was cold last night.
” A few people nod. “Even just a few feet into the treeline would be a good buffer.” We all look to the wall of jungle.
I wince. “Or maybe walking to the other side of the island so we’re sheltered by the jungle?
Either way, I think we need to do something. ”
Darren’s mouth hooks at one corner. I hear the sardonic we? in his gaze.
“That being said,” I rush out before he talks, “I’m having a hard time even turning my head, so the work would be carried out by you guys…”
“Seán and I were discussing this when grabbing food,” Cillian says. “I noticed a natural break in the treeline about a kilometre that way that I think would make a good spot. We can have the shelter without fighting our way through that.” He gestures at the wall of green.
My shoulders loosen at Cillian’s agreement.
“We’d keep the yacht in sight that way too,” I point out. We all look to where it’s sitting half-submerged. The punishing waves have gone, and the water doesn’t look dark and menacing any more. It’s not any different from the beach we were snorkelling at a day ago.
“Sounds good to me,” Mary says. “Though I’m the same as Jules. I can’t help with the heavy lifting.”
Charles leans over and pecks her on the lips. “Your job is to heal up that ankle, and I’ll do the heavy lifting for you.”
“Mary, if you could help weave together leaves, getting some layered walls done would be a great help,” Seán tells her. “We need more to keep that rain off us.”
Mary looks relieved and nods. “I’m good with my hands.”
“True,” Charles agrees.
Mary slaps his thigh.
“Baby, I’m referring to your pottery skills,” Charles says. He meets her eyes and winks. “And other skills.”
He gets another light swat, and Charles cackles, kissing her cheek again. “Love you.”
“I can help Mary,” I say.
“No, you are—” Mathieu begins to object, but Cillian catches his eye and nods. Mathieu changes course. “You are allowed to help.”
I take the time to glare at them both. Cillian raises an eyebrow. Mathieu blinks bashfully and takes nothing back.
It’s decided that Seán will stay at the new camp to get it set up, Cillian and Willow will gather more food, and Darren and Yasop will walk the perimeter of the island to see if there’s anything we missed yesterday.
Before they set out, everyone, excluding me, because Mathieu and Cillian are equally meddlesome, helps to carry the lean-tos over to the new camp.
A narrow pathway angles through the trees to a small clearing. The break in the trees leaves a small gap in the canopy, but it’s thick along the edges. The trees will be more than enough to protect us from the wind.
Mathieu, Mary, Charles and I remain to help Seán.
Even though it’s Seán’s dominant right arm in the sling, he’s remarkably competent one-handed.
He shows us how to create the walls, overlapping leaves orientated in the same direction.
“So the water drains off to the side,” he explains.
“Since they’re movable, we’ll be able to prop them against the lean-tos on whichever side the wind comes from. ”
I sit with Mary, and we work together to weave fronds into the frame the others put together. I feel bad watching how hard a time the others are having just getting the resources for it all. I know from yesterday how annoying it is.
Before I know it, the sun has passed by overhead, everyone has stopped by for lunch with a bounty and gone again, and I’m so sick of bending leaves around branches that I want to throw it all away. I’m not sure where the intense frustration comes from. It’s hard to ignore.
Sweat runs off my forehead onto my working hands. I push the wall I’m working on from my lap. “I’m rinsing off in the water.”
The others are all at the bamboo crop.
Mary nods. “I’ll probably ask Charles to carry me down once he’s back.”
The sun beats down on me as I walk down the beach.
The sand is white and soft underfoot. I walk straight into the water without pausing, advancing until I’m waist-deep, then sinking down.
The cool water feels wonderful against my neck.
I eye the yacht as I wash myself, using just my hands. Behind me, I hear a splash.
I turn to find Cillian wading in behind me.
“I’m not doing any heavy lifting. This is basically a holiday.”
His grey eyes track over every inch of me before he nods.
He joins me in the water, shrugging off his shirt, revealing an impressive, tattooed physique.
The Celtic designs that cover his arms spread further.
Interlacing knotwork and spirals dominate his chest, his back, his sides.
He must have sat for hundreds of hours getting inked.
He’s so solid. Like that boundary marker that inspired his first tattoo come to life.
The ink makes it impossible to tell whether the yacht left bruises.
He washes his shirt in the ocean and uses his hands like I did to clean himself. He dunks his head and emerges with wet hair, salt water racing down his skin in rivulets. They lead to the waistband of his shorts. Tattoos disappear mid-design beneath the band. Do they cover all of him?
He catches me staring.
“I think I could make that swim,” I divert.
“I will tie you to a tree, Jules. I swear to God.”
I like the way he says my name. It doesn’t feel like a curse, even though he’s exasperated.
“I didn’t say I’m going to. I just think that I could.” I drift closer to him, eyeing the yacht again. “We made it in, after all. If it’s calm like this, that’s an easy swim.”
Cillian stares at me like he has a whole lot to say. He juts his chin towards the yacht. “Do you see the way it’s sitting in the water? With the front end submerged like that?”
“Yeah.”
“I think it’s sitting on the edge of a shelf. Maybe it’s secure, maybe it’s not. And the water looks calm, but sometimes there are currents you just can’t spot from the beach.” Cillian scans the water. “If I thought it was safe, I would have swum out there first thing this morning.”
I start drifting away, a current pulling me out. Cillian catches me by the arm and gently tugs me back to him. He studies my eyes.
“Is your headache unbearable? I know having painkillers just over there is frustrating, but I don’t think it’s safe.”
“Forget painkillers, I want a toothbrush.”
Cillian’s lips twitch.
“And a blanket. If I have to spend another night next to Darren while he’s acting like…” I stop. “I’d kill for a coffee. I bet my headache is from caffeine withdrawal.”
“Acting like what?”