50. Adrian
FIFTY
ADRIAN
It’s Dylan’s birthday, and it’s as if the island has figured out it’s something worth celebrating, because I find the biggest crab I’ve ever seen. The fucker is huge and angry. It snaps its claws at me and is generally a menace to handle.
Unluckily for the crab, I’m not really in the kind of forgiving mood where I’d just feel sorry and let it go. This is our birthday lunch trying to crawl down the beach away from me. Fat chance of that happening.
I carry the crab to the fire and unceremoniously dump it into the flames.
“Whoa,” Dylan says when he comes back from gathering firewood and sees what I’ve been up to in the meantime. He beams at me. “Nice.”
I laugh and shake my head before I high-five him.
He’s been in a good mood today.
“It’s your birthday,” I say, “so I got the good kind of groceries.”
“We’re eating like kings today.” He grins at me.
“Hell, yeah. And since it’s your birthday, I’ll do the cooking.”
He eyes the crab with twitching lips. “I appreciate how you’ve been slaving at the stove. So what else is on the menu?”
“Oh, just wait and see. Real exotic stuff. Are you ready for this?”
His grin widens, and there’s a teasing glint in his eyes. “For anything. Bring it on.”
“Well in that case, prepare yourself for a…” I pause dramatically. “Fruit salad.”
“Exotic indeed.”
“Indeed,” I echo. “It’s coconut and jackfruit, so don’t get too hyped up but?—”
He puts his palm over my mouth and shakes his head. “You were doing so well there for a moment. Don’t ruin it.”
I make a face at him before I point to the shade of the tree. “Sit down and relax. Lunch is in fifteen minutes.”
“Sir, yes, sir.” He salutes me.
I’m still smiling when I get to the coconut tree. It’s weird as fuck to be chill and tense at the same time, but that’s pretty much what’s going on. I’ll deal with lunch, and then we’re going to talk, because I have things to say.
I gather four coconuts and take them to the spot we have set up to get the husks off.
I put the first coconut in place and pick up the large rock we use to drop on them, but the coconut just randomly rolls away from where it should be secured between the other rocks.
I huff in annoyance, wedge the rock I’m holding between my body and my arm, straining to keep it there, and put the coconut back in its place.
I’m just about to straighten myself back up when something lets out a loud screech from my left. It’s a weird, high-pitched noise that makes me jump with surprise.
The rock I’m gripping between my arm and body slips.
As if in slow motion, I feel it knock against my hip, and then it tumbles toward the ground. I pull my hand away, but not fast enough. The rock slams against my hand with so much force that it smashes my pinky and fourth finger between it and two other rocks.
I blink.
Nothing registers at first.
There’s static in my ears.
I try to pull my hand away.
Then it’s pure, unfiltered agony.
I have no idea if I shout or make any noise at all, but Dylan is suddenly there.
“Adrian?” he pants, out of breath.
I turn my head to look at him in some sort of strange daze, and then we both look down at my hand.
“Oh. Shit,” he says. He leans down and tries to move to rock. A gasp escapes my lips.
We’re both breathing harshly. Dylan swallows, and then his fingers wrap around the back of my neck, and his gaze locks on mine.
“It’s going to be okay, baby,” he says. “I promise it’s going to be okay. I need to get you free, and it’s going to hurt a bit, but we’re going to be okay.”
I draw in a shallow breath and nod, in the kind of weird daze that makes me see everything with tunnel vision. The static is still loud in my ears.
Dylan looks around for a moment, and then he’s running. A second later he’s back and he’s pushing a thick branch between the rocks.
“Baby, look at me,” he says, so I do. “On three, okay?”
I try to swallow, but I can’t, so I just nod.
“One. Two.” He leans his whole body on the branch. The rock moves out of place and tumbles to the ground.
Sweat is running down my forehead and temples.
My fingers…Everything from the knuckles down looks like a mangled mess. There’s blood. Lots of blood. I’m pretty sure I can see bone.
Oh fuck.
That curse is little more than an absent thought.
The injury registers only faintly.
“Let’s get you back to the raft,” Dylan says. He sounds calm, but he looks about a millisecond away from completely losing his shit.
His hands shake so hard the first aid kit rattles, and he can’t get the flap open at first.
“It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay,” he keeps repeating.
He takes two small branches and uses them as a makeshift splint. He ties those to my fingers with the help of bandages. He shakes two painkillers into his palm and hands them to me wordlessly with the bottle of water.
There’s some sort of lump in my throat, so forcing the painkillers down becomes a real challenge, but they go eventually.
Dylan sits back on his haunches, his breathing uneven and too rapid and loud. He pulls me against his body so tightly that I can feel every shaky breath and every rapid beat of his heart.
“We’ll be okay,” he says.