Chapter Thirty
Cillian
I break Jules’s rules and ask Seán to join me on the walk to the watering hole.
Yasop, who was originally meant to go, agrees to keep an eye on Jules and Mathieu.
The heavy rain from the night before has the insects out in swarms, and I’m sick of swatting the stupid things before we’re even ten minutes into the trip.
Even with the salvaged bug spray, they’re annoying, flooding the air.
“We’re alone.” Seán breaks the silence. “Whatever you want to ask, go ahead.”
I’m leading the way, and not having to see what sort of face he’s making helps. “I always fall into relationships.”
“I know. You’ve dated at least three different women a year since you moved in with us.”
“Right. And I always know I’ll be dumped.”
Seán makes an unhappy sound in his throat, and I hear a catch, like he’s about to object. Instead he sighs. “Go on.”
“And I’m never upset about it, because I know from the start that’s how it’ll go.”
“Do you always think that, Cillian?” There’s a hint of frustration in his voice now. “Obviously you’re going to break up if that’s the mindset you bring into the relationship.”
Even with the first woman I dated—though I’m not sure I’d classify that one as dating, because we never did boyfriend-girlfriend stuff, just lived and slept together—I knew it wouldn’t last long.
“I never wanted something long-term. I don’t want to end up like my parents.
They hate each other. Genuinely. And they stay together anyway, making each other hateful and unhappy. ”
Seán lengthens his stride to catch up with me. I move over to make room.
“My parents love each other and make each other happy. And you know what? They’ve had you since you were fifteen, Cillian.
You’re more ours than you ever were your parents.
” Seán places his hand on my shoulder. “You’ve always been good to the people you care about.
You’d never treat a partner the way your parents treat each other. Or how they treated you.”
I step over a fallen log. A large lizard skitters into the underbrush. The rustling leaves remind me of snakes. My gaze slides up to the hanging vines. I’d rather not have one drop on me again. Getting bitten on the wrist hurts more than on the ankle.
“They’d be amazing to date.”
“Jules is a good friend. I’m sure he’d make a good boyfriend.
I didn’t know Mathieu before this trip, but as far as being trapped on an island with a group of people goes, he’s been a very positive, optimistic individual to be around.
If he can handle a situation like this with that kind of attitude, then I’m sure he’s well-equipped for a relationship. ”
I agree with all of that. “I don’t want it to be a short-term thing.
And I actually feel like it could work despite…
” I’m not sure Seán will cope with me discussing what I’m like in the bedroom.
“If it goes like all my other relationships and I get dumped two months in, it’ll hurt.
” I’m already closer to them than I was to Kara, and I dated her for four months.
“It’ll hurt in a way no other relationship has. ”
“So rather than taking a chance and risking hurt, your instincts are telling you not to jump in the first place?” Seán softens his words by squeezing my shoulder. “That’s usually how people feel before doing something scary, like asking someone out or starting a relationship.”
We pass the halfway point on the trail. “It doesn’t bother you that it’s both of them I like?”
“Nothing that makes you happy is going to bother me,” Seán says. I glance at him, and Seán meets my gaze, steadfast. “Are you going to ask them out?”
“Jules asked already.” While Mathieu stared at me with bright eyes, full of promise and challenge, daring me to say yes.
Sort of how he’d woken up and started pushing me off the bed, telling me to sleep on the floor because I’m so annoying.
I’m not sure what reaction he was looking for, but the grapple that ensued had been incredibly satisfying.
And that stuff he said afterwards. I suppose I do tend to get anxious after sex, though I think it’s reasonable for me to anticipate bad reactions after getting so many of them… right?
“Of course Jules did. What did you say?”
I’m quiet for too long.
“Cillian.”
“I asked if they were pissed off at me.”
Seán groans. “Why on earth was that your response? Jules wouldn’t have been asking if he was!”
In retrospect, Seán has a point. But I’m struggling to get my head around it.
They’re not annoyed at all? After I dominated them like that?
Sure, Jules explicitly said he felt de-stressed, and Mathieu wears his heart on his sleeve and looked perfectly content, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t secretly pissed off.
I can tell I’m looking for anger that isn’t there at all.
“Do you want to say yes?”
“Of course,” I admit gruffly.
“Then say yes. Now, I’m not willing to spend all day in the jungle, so let’s up the pace.” Seán moves on ahead, quickly gaining distance. I push myself to keep up. I’m tired after the late night, and my muscles quiver their objection.
By the time we reach the glade, I’ve never been more tempted to crawl my way up that path into the hill and step off the cliff edge, falling into the crystal-clear water.
I’d better not. I don’t have the energy to tuck my limbs.
Based on the trampled path leading up, someone has, if not jumped in, at least explored the upward path.
If I had to suspect someone of jumping in, two particular individuals come to mind.
◆◆◆
I stay in camp, boiling the water to buy myself time.
I puzzle over what words I’m going to use with Jules and Mathieu, and I’m so tired from the night before and the walk to the water that I don’t realise I’m shivering until I find myself huddling as close as I can get to the fire.
My fingers are inches from the flame, and I’m flirting with a burn by pressing the back of my hand to the metal pot for a split second at a time.
The itchiness across my body isn’t bugs; it’s sensitive skin from a flu.
“Great.” I dig out flu tablets from the medical bag and take two. I’m guessing the late-night shower and the dip this morning brought my temperature low enough for this to creep up on me. My nose isn’t runny yet, but my throat is tight.
When Charles and Mary come into camp to prepare lunch—fish and figs—I take the packet of flu tablets and a bottle of water and go in search of Jules and Mathieu. I’m dragging my feet through the sand all the way to our hut, and I’m ready to collapse when I reach it.
There’s no sign of them.
I remember Jules said he was going to be doing something with Willow and Yasop today…
What was it again? Something that needed my knife, now permanently strapped to Jules’s waist. That’s all the way back to camp, and further past it again.
A daunting distance. I stand in the doorway, willing my feet to move.
They refuse. Instead, I put down the bottle and tablets on the ground and flop onto the bed.
I feel around for the blanket and groan in annoyance.
It’s hanging outside to dry. I lie there for an hour shivering before gathering the energy to retrieve it.
I lie back down with it, still shivering.
Yesterday I decided not to build a campfire by the hut, thinking we wouldn’t need the heat. I’m regretting that now.
The blockiness in my head blooms into pressure, and my throat becomes dry. My tongue hurts. An intense itch pulses through my forearm every few seconds. I rouse myself to slap the skin several times, feeling like something is eating me. There’s never anything there.
I drift in and out of sleep, waking when someone sits down against my back.
“You scared me,” Jules says. Fingers card through my hair, soft and heavenly. I lean into his touch. “Are you shivering?”
“I’ve got a cold,” I manage to get out. I push through a heavy fog, trying to concentrate on my surroundings. Touch is concrete. Thoughts and everything else are filmy, drifting on a breeze. “There are flu tablets for you and Mathieu. Do you two feel alright?”
Cool fingers press against my forehead. “Jesus Christ. Mathieu? Get Seán. Quick.”
I can’t make out what Jules says next. All of a sudden Seán is there, even though I’m just after leaving him.
There are more fingers against my forehead.
“His temperature is way too high.” Seán’s voice is tight.
“I’ll get water and cloths.”
I feel the presence of more people than just Seán, but he’s the most immediate, hovering over me.
“I took flu tablets already.”
“What’s he saying?”
“I don’t know. He’s been mumbling the whole time. I got him to open his eyes for a few seconds, but he couldn’t focus on me.”
Voices blur together. Then something freezing is placed on my forehead. I try to remove it.
Someone catches my wrist, and it hurts like it’s being clamped in a vice grip. The muscle is dying.
“The snakebite,” Jules says. “Look at it.”