Chapter Thirty-One
Now
At some point in the middle of the night—knowing a plane wouldn’t see them in the dark—Piper crawled back into their shelter
to sleep. A few hours later, faint strands of daylight streamed in through the trees, waking the world, and her, with its
touch. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she’d woken up to Wyatt’s good morning kisses, his arms wrapped around her. Now she
opened her eyes to his back, Wyatt curled as far away from her as possible in the small space. The sharp contrast gave her
vertigo, her head spinning from their fast fallout.
Wyatt’s gentle snoring made it impossible to forget he was here—to shake loose the memory of his hands gliding over her naked
body, his lips nibbling her neck.
Suddenly she couldn’t take a full breath and felt trapped, like the thatched roof of their canopy hut was closing in on her.
She needed space. Needed to think and regroup.
Slinking out to the shoreline, Piper gulped in the salty, dewy air with relief as she began walking along the stretch of beach
headed away from the cliffside. As the sun crested the horizon, it painted the water in shimmering shades of pink and fiery
orange, casting a soft glow over the sand. The night sky faded away like a healing bruise.
How long would she do this dance? Tiptoeing around Wyatt like he hadn’t cracked her heart wide, like a crowbar prying open a locked door. Ignoring how her heart leaped every time he beamed that dimpled smile at her. Pretending like he didn’t have the power to devastate her, make her blood run cold, with cutting words.
Piper walked until the sandy beach gave way to a thicket of reeds and brambles, and their base camp was no longer visible.
Piles of black seaweed blocked her path as the shoreline met a narrow point of land. The vast expanse of the ocean rippled
before her in unending waves, making her feel like the last person on earth.
But she wasn’t the last person and she wasn’t here alone.
Despite the complicated double helix of love and pain that bound her to Wyatt, Piper couldn’t fathom being stranded with anyone
else. Wouldn’t want to be despite everything. No matter what, their destinies were intertwined—connected. They’d found their
way back to each other once before. Maybe they could again.
A seed of hope blossomed deep in Piper’s soul. Spending time with Wyatt this past week had healed the fissures crisscrossing
her heart like battle scars, his presence filling the cracks like flowers growing through broken pavement. She understood
him better now. Understood why he’d rejected her before and recognized deep in her bones that every action he took was to
protect her, even if it meant denying their love—a twisted logic born out of his fear of not being good enough for her. Maybe
it was up to her to be brave enough for both of them and push through her fear of heartbreak.
Maybe it wasn’t too late for them.
Maybe they were just getting started.
The relentless sun had reddened her neck and shoulders, a steady reminder of the passage of time. How long had she stood out on this narrow point of shore, lost in thought? It was time to face Wyatt and confront their uncertain future together. With a deep breath, she turned and began the journey back, her heart fluttering with anticipation and hope. She steeled herself for the conversation ahead but was determined to see it through, to find a way to make things work between them.
They would figure it out—together.
When she returned to their shelter, Wyatt was still asleep, one arm thrown back over his head. His long black eyelashes rested
against his cheeks, his parted lips full, his expression peaceful—no traces of the pain that had marred it earlier. Her sleeping
warrior.
His curls, encouraged by the moisture in the air, swirled across his forehead in perfect spirals. Unable to resist, she brushed
one back, then cupped his cheek. Her hand prickled like it was on fire at the touch. Or was that his skin? Experimenting,
she touched his forehead with the back of her hand. An anchor dropped in her stomach. His skin was damp and fiery, his breath
too shallow. He groaned, shivering despite his high body temperature.
Something was very wrong.
Piper knelt and rolled up his sweatpants to inspect his left leg. The stench that hit her as soon as she peeled back his bandage
immediately told her the cut was infected.
“Shit,” she cursed out loud. Why hadn’t she paid more attention? She should’ve forced Wyatt into a proper examination of his
cut. Should have known he’d play the martyr. An infection could be dangerous, especially if it got into his bloodstream. If
she got some fluids into him, she might be able to turn this around. Acting fast, she ducked out of the shelter, leaving his
side only long enough to grab a water bottle and hurry back.
“Wyatt! Wyatt, wake up!” She shook his shoulders, frantic.
He blinked at her, bewildered. “Piper? What are you doing here?”
“I need you to drink some water. Can you sit up?”
Wyatt took her hand, his cold and clammy in hers. “I can’t be lieve you’re here with me. I’ve waited so long for this.” His soft words slurred together.
“Of course I’m here.” Piper tugged on his arm, coaxing him upright. She expected him to fight her, but he sat up like a rag
doll. His heart beat like a jackhammer under his shirt, his eyes were glassy.
“Drink this.” Piper pressed the water bottle into his hand.
He nodded and dutifully took a few gulps of water. “Piper, what’s wrong? You look sad.” His childlike tone sounded eerie and
far away, like he was in a dream.
“I’m going to change your bandage. Can you hold still for me?”
He nodded again.
Holding her breath, she washed and redressed his wound as best she could with what remained of their first aid kit. He winced
in pain but otherwise said nothing. The lack of questions or teasing alarmed Piper most of all. He must have known his cut
wasn’t healing properly and had hidden it from her. How else had it gotten so bad?
Hot tears pricked the backs of her eyes. “I’m going to go get us some more water. Wait right here.” Piper stood to avoid Wyatt
seeing her cry.
“Don’t leave me, please.” He grabbed her hand, stopping her. “I love you. Do you know that?” His panicked eyes burned into
hers, wet and feverish. “You have to know. Please don’t go.”
Piper gripped his hand helplessly, too overcome by her flood of anxiety to respond. Did Wyatt even realize what he was saying
or to whom he was saying it? “Wy, I’m not leaving. I’ll be back in two seconds. I promise.”
She pried her hand out of his and rushed to their food supply, commanding herself to breathe. They had enough water to get them through a few more days and plenty of berries. Thank goodness she’d gone to the clearing yesterday because she didn’t think she could leave Wyatt alone in this state. Dread swelled in her stomach. They’d been fortunate to survive this far, but their luck had officially run out.
“Piper, wait for me!” Wyatt’s voice rang out behind her. True to form, he hadn’t listened to her and had somehow dragged himself
to a standing position. He took a few unsteady lurches forward, smiling blankly ahead.
Then everything moved in slow motion.
On his next step, Wyatt’s legs buckled beneath him, his eyes rolled back into his head, and his whole body collapsed onto
the sand with a sickening thud.
“Wyatt!” Piper ran to his side.
It felt like hours had passed before she reached him. When she sank onto the sand and shook him, his eyes fluttered open a
few times, unfocused.
Think, Piper, think.
Wyatt was likely in the early stages of sepsis. The combination of a deep cut and a weakened immune system from poor nutrition
over the past week could be lethal. He needed treatment with serious antibiotics, but that wasn’t an option here. With shaking
hands, she checked the skin around his cut. It didn’t look like the infection had spread to his bloodstream, so there was
no reason to tie a tourniquet around his leg or do anything drastic.
Not yet, at least—it was only a matter of time.
Piper dumped out the first aid kit, searching for something that might help. Finding nothing, she turned to their luggage,
pawing through it like a rabid animal looking for scraps. Everything was useless. The best she could do was roll Wyatt onto
his back, prop a T-shirt under his head, and hold his hand while talking to him, trying to keep him awake. All the while swallowing
back tears.
After a few moments of blinking at her, his eyes closed completely, and his body went limp.
Tears coursed down Piper’s face. “Wyatt, wake up!” She shook him again. “You promised we were getting off this island together. You promised!”
Grabbing the radio, Piper changed stations blindly through her tears, stabbing at buttons and praying for a response. On every
channel, she heard only static but repeated the urgency of their situation.
“If anyone can hear me, we need help. This is Piper Adams. I’m with Wyatt Brooks, and we crashed on this island a week ago.
Wyatt’s hurt, and we need help now.”
She spoke variations of the message over and over again until her voice grew hoarse—until the radio’s batteries died alongside
her dwindling hope. Throwing the useless piece of garbage into the sand, she howled a desperate cry into the wind.
This nightmare could not be happening.
Time crept as Wyatt lay shivering in the hot sand, unaware of his surroundings, slipping in and out of consciousness. Piper
lay her head on his chest and sobbed. Disappointed in herself for not being able to help him more, for not being the star
medical student everyone expected her to be. Terrified at the idea of losing Wyatt, at the thought of making it through even
one day on this island without him here—let alone go on with any part of her life without him.
And furious she hadn’t told him how much she cared about him when she had the chance.
What a cruel twist of fate. To get Wyatt back in her life only to face losing him again—this time permanently. What had she
done in a past life to deserve this ironic torture?
“Please stay with me, Wyatt,” she whispered. “If we make it home, I promise we won’t go years without talking ever again.”
She wanted so much more out of life if they made it home. He’d been the one to help her realize she’d been living her life out of fear of disappointing others instead of making herself happy. Now that she saw it, she couldn’t see anything else. And she couldn’t imagine going home—if that was still possible—without Wyatt.
A guttural sob burst loose from her chest. “We’re both getting off this island, Wy. I want a life, no, I need a life that
includes you. Don’t you dare leave me. Not again. You owe me, Wyatt.”
Mentally scanning through options, she categorized everything she could do to get them out of this situation. She’d remake
their SOS sign in the sand, keep watch by the water with their flare gun ready to flag help down, or swim into the ocean to
find help if she needed to.
When her tears dried up, she comforted herself by listening to Wyatt’s heartbeat. As long as it thumped in his chest, he was
still here with her. She still had hope.
Over the rhythm of his heartbeat, a new sound filled her ears. Something droning above the continuous crash of the ocean waves.
Piper lifted her head and searched the horizon. Maybe it was her fragile mental state, but she thought she spotted a flash
of silver over the water.
Was it possible? Could it be a plane? If so, she needed to get a flare up to the top of the seaside cliff—fast.
Piper scrambled into action. Only a slim chance existed that the plane was flying in their direction, but she couldn’t let
this opportunity pass. She grabbed the flare gun and tucked it into her back pocket. Setting a bottle of water down by Wyatt,
she kissed him on the cheek before racing toward the cliff as fast as she could, kicking up sand in her wake like a racehorse
gaining the lead.
When she reached the base of the rocky cliff face moments later, the hum of the plane’s engine was clear and insistent—and
coming their way. She hadn’t imagined it. Somehow the cliffside looked steeper than she remembered, but she inhaled deeply,
gritted her teeth, and climbed, refusing to let the unrelenting voice of fear scare her away.
She concentrated instead on getting help for Wyatt, on getting them both off this island once and for all. There wasn’t time to be careful, and the jagged rocks pierced her skin with every precarious move upward. Her hands were slick with blood by the time she hauled herself onto the flat top surface. The small plane had roared past while she climbed, growing smaller in the opposite direction with every second.
Moving fast, Piper hoisted the flare gun, positioning herself as Wyatt had taught her. She pulled the trigger. The flare rocketed
into the sky and exploded in a satisfying burst of orange light. The bright flare seemed impossible to miss, but she wasn’t
sure the pilot would notice something in the plane’s wake. She aimed and fired again, betting everything they had on this
last chance.
They had to see it.
She waited a minute. Then another—holding her breath as the plane continued its steady flight until she couldn’t hear or see
it anymore. Despair filled her lungs, forcing the air out, and she collapsed onto the ground, the fight leaving her body.
“Come back! Come back!” she yelled at the sky, her body limp, her mind numb, and her hands throbbing.
She’d failed.
And it may have cost Wyatt his life.
It could have been hours or minutes that Piper lay curled in a fetal position, but eventually, the steady whir of a helicopter
thrummed in her ears. She stood and shaded her eyes to see better, certain she’d imagined the sound. But sure enough, a red-and-white
chopper went from a speck in the distance to hovering right overhead.
“Please move back,” boomed a voice from the helicopter. “We’re going to land.”
Piper stepped backward into the tree line as the copter landed like a bumblebee on the small flat surface overlooking the water. A spry dark-haired woman dressed in an EMT or maybe a Coast Guard uniform hopped out and came toward her. Piper backed away, shocked by the sight of another human in front of her after days of seeing only Wyatt.
“Piper Adams?”
Piper nodded, tears stinging her eyes at the sound of her name.
“My name is Rosie. We spoke on the radio. Are you alone? Where’s Wyatt?”
Finding her voice, Piper spoke in a rush. “He’s down on the beach in rough shape. I think he has an infection. I couldn’t
get him to wake up.” Her voice broke, and tears swallowed her words. “You have to help him.”
“How are you? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine! You need to go help Wyatt. Please!” Why weren’t they moving faster?
Rosie said something into the radio on her vest. “Okay, Piper. I need you to get in the helicopter and show us where your
friend is so we can get you both home.”
Piper climbed into the helicopter and screwed her eyes shut as they lifted off the ground, silently repeating the lyrics to
“Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” to quell her nerves. While Piper directed the pilot toward the beach where Wyatt lay, a man
dressed in a medic uniform with pale skin and a kind smile cleaned and bandaged her hands. It surprised her to see they were
stained with blood. None of this felt real.
Wyatt remained crumpled in the sand by their shelter. When the helicopter landed, Piper jumped out to rush to his side, but Rosie stopped her, telling her it would be faster if she stayed out of their way and let the medics do their job. It took ten agonizing minutes for the two medics to carry and load Wyatt into the aircraft, stretching him out on the floor. He was still unconscious, his skin waxy, his lips a horrible gray. The male medic inserted an IV into his vein—hopefully flooding his body with antibiotics and fluids.
“He cut himself right there.” Piper pointed to the bandage on his leg. The medic nodded and flushed out the cut with real
antiseptic. The sting of it should have been excruciating, but Wyatt didn’t even twitch.
“How is he?” Piper asked, wringing her hands.
“He needs medical attention.” Rosie’s voice was grim. “You could probably use some fluids, too, but we’ll be at the hospital
in less than an hour. I want you to drink this whole water bottle and eat this protein bar before we get there.” She handed
her the items, but for once, Piper wasn’t hungry.
As they lifted off, Piper took in their temporary home one last time. The firepit where they drank prosecco and toasted their
gratitude, the palm tree beach perches where so many conversations had taken place, the green thatched shelter with a bridesmaid
dress bed where they’d made love—their life for the past week. All fading away under cover of clouds.
Once in the air, Piper unbuckled her seat belt and slid down to the floor, propping Wyatt’s head in her lap.
“Ma’am, please get back in your seat,” Rosie ordered.
Piper shook her head, not bothering to stop her tears from falling. Nothing would make her leave his side. Rosie must have
seen the haunted look in Piper’s eyes because she let her sit in peace.
“We’re going home. Hang on a little longer.” She stroked his hair, repeatedly whispering in his ear, “Please, Wyatt. Please.”
When they landed, the medics rushed Wyatt out and loaded him into an aircraft with hospital markings. Piper hurled herself
after him, trying to climb on board, too, but firm hands stopped her once again.
“Where are you taking him?” she demanded, not ready to let him out of her sight.
“We’ve landed in the Bahamas. They’re going to stabilize him and airlift him to the hospital in Miami right now. We’ll board another flight shortly and take you to the same hospital.”
An awful wail filled the air. Piper wondered if it might be a siren or something in the plane’s engine. It wasn’t until a
medic approached her like she was a wild animal that she realized the sound was coming from her.
“You’re going to feel a small prick. Okay, Piper? This will help.”
Piper welcomed the darkness that followed.