Chapter 18
Eighteen
CALLUM
I jolt off the bunk.
The echo of a scream reverberates through the hut.
“Fuck!”
I’m off the bunk and out the door before my head can catch up.
Another scream.
I take off at a run toward the sound. The brush is whipping around in the wind. The ground is too damn slippery. My feet are bare.
Dammit.
Thundering through the trees, I’m a man possessed. The only other person on this island is Evie. If those are screams, they’re hers.
The storm releases its fury on my little island like it has fucking permission. I pick up my pace.
Another scream. This time, it fades out. Like she’s giving up.
Christ, mo nighean.
I slide to a halt, breathing hard as I brace against a tree. Water courses down the bark, washing over my hand. The canopy looses its watery load onto me. Its icy fingers slide down my neck, soaking into my collar before running down my back and chest.
The faint sound of something moving toward me comes from not too far away.
She almost made it.
I take off toward the rustle, hoping to find her unharmed.
Why the hell is she out here in the fucking storm?
What would possibly drive her from the safety of the lighthouse in this shit show?
I round an oversized trunk and slow my stride as I see her lying on the ground. The tons of weight that hit my heart at the sight of her steal the hot air from my lungs. I stand, hands hanging, taking her in. Her desperate face, pained and twisted as she sobs, lying on the forest floor.
With gentle movements, I eliminate the space between us and squat as she sits up, eyes still closed. Her shoulders heave. Her hands wring. Her throat works. Her body shakes.
She’s terrified.
Oh, my girl. What the hell?
I burn to touch her. To take away the fear. Pull the pained look from her face.
My calloused fingers sweep over her jaw. She jerks backward. Her chin wobbles as she struggles to take her next breath.
I swallow past the boulder in my throat before cupping her face with both hands.
“Evie . . .” I choke.
She’s shaking something fierce. Her skin is pale, cold, and awash in goosebumps.
I fold my arms around her and pull her away from the tree.
Her ragged inhale tells me all I need to know. “You’re okay, baby girl, I got you.”
I stand, bending down to sweep her up off the forest floor and into my arms. Pressed against my chest, my arms holding her, she opens her eyes.
I almost lose my composure at the torment lining them.
“Fuck, baby. Let’s get you dry and warm.”
“Callum?” She sobs, fingers curled around the opening of my shirt.
I grind my jaw shut, tamping back the emotion that wants out badly, and adjust my focus on tracking back to the hut.
When the faint lights of the hut finally poke through the rows of trees, I look down to Evie.
She’s out cold.
What has she been through since I left? What the hell was in that envelope? What happened at the house?
I push through the hut’s door and am thankful the wood stove is still burning.
Depositing her on the bunk, I bundle up as many blankets as I can find.
Which is four in total, since no one but me has stayed here for years.
I arrange them in front of the stove and add two more logs to the burner, leaving the door open.
It’s more like a small fireplace now. Evie sits on the bunk, staring at the floor, shaking.
“We need to get those wet clothes off,” I say softly, coming to stand in front of her.
Wide brown eyes look up at me as she nods slowly.
I reach for her shirt, and she raises her arms. I tug the wet shirt from her and lay it over a chair to dry. Her shivers intensify. Her white lace bra is also soaked.
“This too,” I rasp.
Her teeth chatter as she studies my face. “Y-ou d-do i-it.”
I lean over, sliding my palms over her back for warmth before I unclasp the hook of the bra. The wet lingerie slips away, and I tug it over her arms and toss it over the chair.
With trembling hands, she pulls her long hair to one side and squeezes the water from it. It hits the floor, splashing my feet. It’s fucking cold.
Christ, I need to get her warm. And quick.
I pull her to her feet and unbutton her shorts.
As I get them to her boots, I undo the laces and slip the boots off before taking her shorts and panties as well.
I turn back to lay her clothes over the chair.
Her chattering teeth fill the small space, urging me to hurry up. A reminder of what I’m doing.
Tell that to my throbbing, rock-hard cock. To the shallow cycles of air barely gracing my lungs. And when I turn back to face Evie, she’s shaking, hugging her arms around her body, eyes trained on the fire.
My girl needs warming up. And that’s what I’m going to do.
I sweep her off her feet again and carry her to the blankets. I lie her down on them, but she sits up, crossing her legs. She shuffles closer to the fire. So I drape one blanket over her shoulders and sit behind her, wrapping my body around hers.
I want to ask her what happened, but my curiosity can wait.
After a while, she places her head back on my shoulder.
I can’t resist nuzzling her neck. She’s warmer now.
I rub my hands over her belly as we sit on the floor in front of the fire without words.
Her hands move to cover mine. Her fingers are warm now, too. Not icy like when I found her.
Good.
“It was my fault . . .” she whispers.
I look up at her, my lips still hovering by her neck. “What was, baby?”
“Joshua.” The word is rote. Emotionless. Like a shock victim.
I should have thought of shock.
Fuck me.
“What’d you mean?” I ask.
“That he died. It’s my fault he died.”
“Hell, Evie. Don’t say that.”
Those words will bury their way into her soul and eat it from the inside out.
“I should have known. I should have put a stop to it the first time. But I’m just a coward, and now a good man is dead.” Her voice is too soft, but it drops an octave as she says, “And it’s all my fault.”
Grabbing her shoulders with both hands, I tug her around to face me. She relents and turns on her seat, brown eyes finding mine. I tilt her chin up when she tries to break eye contact.
“Hey, you listen to me. It was an accident . By definition, that’s no one’s fault. Least of all yours.”
She’s shaking her head. My fingers slip away.
“It wasn’t. I know now.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I made the wrong choice.”
She lies on the blankets and curls up on her side.
Christ.
I’m no more the wiser than I was back in the forest where this is concerned. But I won’t push her. Not now.
Evie falls asleep in front of the fire, and I lay beside her, studying the old tin roof like I’ll be able to find the answers to the mystery of this girl who has burrowed her way into my heart.
When none present themselves and my back aches from the hard floor, I fold another blanket around Evie and pad to the bunk. I don’t want to wake her, so I take the only pillow from the bunk and gently slide it under her head. She moans the sweetest sound but doesn’t wake.
Back on the bunk, I lie on my back with my hands under my head. Exhausted from a day in the sun and crashing around the forest mid-storm, I close my eyes. My body sinks into the old thin mattress and I let sleep take me under.
I wake with a start. The early rays of morning stream through the opaque windows. Evie is sound asleep on the floor, the fire long gone out. But it’s much warmer now, the remnants of the storm’s cold trail a distant memory. I sit up and run a hand over her clothes. They’re mostly dry.
“Please tell me there’s coffee in this shack of yours,” Evie drawls softly.
I roll off the bunk and set up a small pot with instant coffee from my bag and water from the rainwater tank, setting it on the burner of the stove. Evie hugs the blanket around herself, watching me. She looks paler than usual.
“How you feeling?” I ask.
“Fine, I’m okay.” Her eyes snap to the front door, as if she can avoid me by not looking at me.
“What the hell were you doing out in the storm?” I try to rein in my worry, but my words still sound harsher than intended.
Her knees slide up to her chest, her chin settling on top of them as she worries that goddamn bottom lip through her teeth. “I got scared, that’s all.”
I squat and brush the hair at her temple back over her ear. “What scared you?”
She looks up, hesitating, as if wordlessly saying what do you mean?
Her brows lower, and I thumb her bottom lip, ignoring my stirring cock as she subtly leans into my touch. “What scared you, Evie?”
A small breath hitches inward, and she shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. But thank you for finding me,” she whispers.
I push to my feet. “Okay, coffee’s ready.” I pull the pot from the stove as steam billows from the small spout and set it on the table while I find two enamel mugs. No cream or sugar in this old hut. Pouring two cups, I drop into a seat. Evie turns to watch me, eyeing the steaming mugs.
“One’s yours when you’re ready,” I say, not letting her gaze escape mine.
She stands and pads to the other chair, sinking into it, the blanket still wrapped around her naked body.
“Did my clothes dry?” she asks, taking a sip with one hand, the other clutched around the blanket.
“Mostly.”
“Are you staying out here another night?”
“Are you?”
She looks around the fishing hut, taking in the rustic minimalism. “It’s very similar to your other man-shack at the house.”
I chuckle. My man-shack. Nice.
“’Spose it is. You didn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t want to intrude. You came out here for something. And I doubt it included me.” Her eyes are glued to the tabletop, as if it’s fascinating.
Always putting other people’s needs first. “This sweet, nice girl shit is getting on my damn nerves, mo nighean.”
“Mo nighean? What does that mean?”
“You’re the queen of words, you tell me.”
Her cheeks flush. She knows what it means, alright. Smart little thing figured it out. Of course she did.