eleven
A FTER EDMUND RANDOMLY mentions we need a hot-air balloon to fly over the island to call attention to our location, we spend the next few days brainstorming how to build an enormous kite.
We need one large enough to be seen by boats passing by even at a distance but light enough to actually fly.
It’s not a simple project.
The fabric is the easy part. We have another piece of the sail from the boat. It will be perfect for catching the wind and resilient enough to not tear even if it gets battered around in a storm. A couple of weeks ago, we discovered that some of the berries on a few bushes far inland will stain clothing. I crushed some against one of the extra T-shirts we pulled out of the sailboat, and they created blotches of dark color that simply will not come out no matter how many times I wash the fabric and beat it against a rock.
So we crush a whole bowlful of berries to make a kind of ink with which we write SOS across the sail. It’s a little messy, but the letters stand out starkly against the light backdrop. So if we can manage to build a frame that gets the kite aloft, the SOS should be clearly visibly from much farther away than our rocks and shells on the beach.
But we get stuck on the frame.
We try wood from several different trees, but all of it is too heavy no matter how much we try to trim it down or minimize the weight. Then we move on to the branches of bushes, which are thinner and lighter, but they aren’t sturdy enough to hold the kite’s shape.
We spend a day and half experimenting and trying out various options. None of them work, and I’d be quite grumpy over our failure had Edmund not been able to tease me out of my frustrated mood.
On the morning of the fourth day that we’ve been focused on the kite, Edmund suggests we take a break from it for the day to refresh our ingenuity.
While I suspect it’s more that we’re running into a brick wall, I agree because I’m so exhausted from trying to solve this puzzle.
We’ve managed to find solutions to almost everything else we’ve attempted here. We’ve managed to feed ourselves, shelter ourselves, keep ourselves alive through my organized, analytical thinking and Edmund’s creativity plus his natural talent for putting things together.
But we’re stumped on this one. We might have to give up.
Instead of working on the kite, we take a leisurely walk around the island to refresh our beach SOSs. Edmund is in fine form, cracking jokes and making me laugh, and by the time we’re halfway through our walk, I’m relaxed and feel better.
We’re walking over the one rocky section of the island’s beach when my ankle twists briefly and I stumble. I catch myself and don’t do any damage to my ankle, but Edmund takes my arm to help me over the rest of the rocks.
When we’re past them, he slides his hold down to take my hand, so we end up walking hand in hand.
It’s nice. I like it a lot. It feels safe, but more than that, it feels intimate. Like we’re not just partners who fuck. Like we’re together for real.
Couples hold hands. Family holds hands. But surely that’s not how Edmund feels about me.
We’ve always gotten along and worked well together, but he never wanted to have sex until we got stuck on this island. I believe he’s genuinely attracted to me, and he’s certainly enjoyed all the sex we’ve had—every bit as much as I have. But the relationship only deepened because of circumstances.
In the real world—back home—he would never, ever choose me.
It doesn’t matter because the most likely scenario is that we’ll never get back home. Despite our attempts to flag down help, the Pacific Ocean is vast and mostly empty. This island isn’t on any regular air traffic or shipping lines. We’ll probably never be found.
So we can spend our days as comfortably and enjoyably as we can. We can be a couple—be together—because there’s absolutely no one else.
He might even grow to love me in the way you love the people who are placed into your life.
But it’s different than falling in love for real. It’s still good, but it’s different.
“What’s the matter?” he asks after several minutes. He squeezes my hand. His palm is slightly damp.
“Nothing really. Just random deep thoughts.” I smile at him, pleased when the concerned scrutiny in his expression relaxes. “Nothing worth sharing.”
“Are you sure? Because I always like to know what’s going on in that fascinating brain of yours.”
I chuckle at that, although I’m not entirely certain he was teasing. “I’m sure. Don’t you ever get caught up in a weird spiral of thought that’s utterly unimportant?”
“All the time. But you’re a lot more serious than I am, so I didn’t think you’d have trivial thoughts like me.”
“Well, I do.” I lean sideways to rub my cheek on his shoulder. “And I think you’re more serious than you’ve ever given yourself credit for.”
He doesn’t respond to that, but I can tell he’s thinking about it. He squeezes my hand again and still doesn’t let it go.
We’re about three-quarters of the way around the island when I step on a fallen tree branch. It’s small and fairly smooth, so it doesn’t hurt me, but I give it a little kick to get it out of the way.
It flies farther from the kick than I would have expected.
Intrigued, I let my hand slip out of Edmund’s and walk over to pick it up. It didn’t break even though I stepped on it. But it’s very light and thin.
“That’s from those tall trees,” Edmund says, stepping over to join me in peering at the branch. “Look at the leaves. We already tried those branches.”
The first wood we tried for the kite was from the tallest trees on the island. Neither of us is educated on kinds of trees, but these look more like the regular trees we’re used to than most of the others on the island. They’re not palm trees or pine trees. They’re tall with a lot of sturdy branches. They don’t flower or grow fruit, and they’re covered with medium-sized green leaves.
“I know. But this one is a lot lighter.” I frown as I peer up at a cluster of those trees. “Look. It must have come from near the top. The branches are smaller and thinner up there.”
I try bending the branch. It will fold all the way in half if forced, but it still doesn’t break. And it holds its shape a lot better than the bush branches we’ve tried.
“Shit.” Edmund reaches over to take the branch from my hand, pulling off the leaves and then flailing it around. “This might work.”
“But we’ll need to get more from way up at the top of the trees. These branches don’t break off much, so we’re not likely to find more of them on the ground.”
Edmund peers up the height of the trees. “I can climb up there. I’ll bring the knife and the hatchet to cut them off.”
I don’t at all like the idea of Edmund climbing those tall trees, particularly when he’ll need to use tools to cut off branches. It doesn’t feel safe.
“I can’t climb up now because I don’t have anything to cut with. Let’s go back home to eat lunch,” he says, sounding excited and invigorated the way he always does when he’s got a new idea. “There are trees like this closer to our camp, so I can climb up one of those. I really think this will work.”
I gulp and nod, recognizing that there’s nothing particularly irrational about his plan. Climbing trees isn’t the most dangerous activity in the world. I used to climb trees myself when I was a kid. If there are enough branches, even if you slip you can usually catch yourself.
But it still terrifies me to think of Edmund all the way up at the top of those trees. I’m silent as I brood about it on the way home.
If Edmund notices my mood, he doesn’t mention it. He’s all energized about figuring out how to make a flyable kite.
We grill the fish we caught that morning and eat it with some grilled bananas and coconut meat. We usually take a swim and a nap after lunch, but Edmund isn’t going to delay any longer.
He’s hooking the hatchet and the knife to his waist with a rope of braided vines, and I stare up at the tops of those trees swaying in the breeze.
“The wind looks pretty strong up there,” I say. “Maybe we should wait until it’s calmer.”
“It’s never calm.”
“I know, but look at the trees blowing. It’s not always that bad. It feels like one of those afternoon storms might blow in during the next hour. You don’t want to be up there when it does.”
He frowns, studying the sky and then the trees. “It’s not storming, Autumn. It looks fine.”
“But—”
“What are you all worried about?” It sounds like he really wants to know.
I’m worried that Edmund—the most important person in my world and the only companion I have for the foreseeable future—is about to climb a tall tree, putting himself at the mercy of a strong wind.
I don’t like it. He might fall. He might hurt himself.
He might die.
And the panic I experience at even the faint possibility of that happening is enough to darken my vision.
“I don’t want you to fall,” I manage to mumble, staring down at the sand.
He laughs, soft and almost gentle. “I’m not going to fall, Autumn.” He takes my chin and lifts my face so he can see it. “I’ve climbed trees before, you know. And, despite what you think, I’m not completely incompetent.”
“I don’t think you’re incompetent!” I glare at him as I pull my chin away from his fingers. “I’m just not sure it’s safe.”
“It’ll be fine.” He leans over to kiss me. “I promise.”
He’s set on this. There’s no talking him out of it. So I swallow and square my shoulders and take a couple of deep breaths as he secures his vine belt before walking over to the base of one of the trees.
I’m standing next to him as he grabs one of the lowest branches and swings himself up. It’s thick and so sturdy it barely moves from his weight.
“Please be careful,” I tell him in a wobbly voice as he maneuvers himself to stand on the low branch and reach for a higher one.
“I will. I’ll get several branches since it’s hard to judge lengths and sizes.”
“Okay.”
That’s what I say, but I don’t feel like it’s okay. I watch with my heart hammering as he moves up quickly branch after branch. I keep backing up toward the beach as he climbs higher so I can see him better.
Eventually he gets toward the top. He’s not moving nearly as quickly now. The wind is blowing the leaves and branches all around him.
I can’t even imagine how forceful the wind must feel at that height.
He’s keeping a good grip on the tree with one hand as he pulls out his knife from his belt with the other.
The branches are young, and so they’re not dried and easy to break. It takes a long time for him to cut through the first branch. I watch, trying not to tremble as I hug my arms to my chest.
He’s finally got the first branch cut and tosses it out from the tree so it drops to the ground. I run over to pick it up with shaky hands.
It takes another long stretch of time for him to work on the second branch. I was right about one of those afternoon storms. Clouds are blowing in, and the day suddenly grows darker when they block the sun.
“Hurry up!” I scream even though I’m absolutely certain he’s working as fast as he can.
He tosses out the second branch the same way, calling back, “I am!”
He sounds slightly bad-tempered, and who can blame him? Despite his nonchalance earlier, this isn’t an easy feat. And my yelling at him isn’t helping anything.
I just can’t seem to stop myself.
The wind appears to be stronger—although it might be my imagination. But I’m definitely not imagining the way the top of the tree is getting whipped around.
Edmund is still clinging to it, working on a third branch.
It feels like it takes forever for him to toss down two more branches.
There are four now. Plus the one I found on the beach. Surely that’s enough.
“That’s plenty,” I call up, trying very hard not to sound annoyed or upset. “This is great!”
He doesn’t reply and he doesn’t react. He starts working on another branch.
“Edmund, that’s enough!”
He ignores me again. He’s clinging to the trunk of the tree, which is a lot thinner so far up, as he cuts the base of the branch he’s working on.
“Edmund!”
After a minute or two, he manages to sever the branch and tosses it down like the others.
“This is enough! Edmund, the wind is terrible! Come down!” I’m trembling helplessly now, terrified the top of the tree will simply snap in the wind, sending Edmund falling down to the ground.
Yet again, he ignores me. He’s cutting one more branch.
“Edmund!” It’s starting to rain. Not hard yet. Just the occasional drop that slaps against my skin from the wind.
I’m sure he’s hearing me. He’s just being stubborn.
“Edmund!” I’m screaming at the top of my lungs now, nearly sobbing from the intensity of my fear. “Edmund! Come down right now! Right now! Get your obstinate ass down to the ground right now! Edmund, please!”
I see his head turn to peer down at me. The wind is whipping his hair and his beard against his face, and his shirt is flapping around like a flag.
“Edmund, please!” I scream again.
Maybe he hears something in my voice. Or maybe he’s decided he’s had enough. Either way, he finally—finally—starts to climb down the tree.
He moves slowly at first until he reaches the sturdier branches. Then he descends more quickly until he swings himself down to the ground.
I burst into tears.
“What the hell?” he mumbles, shaking himself off and then striding over to where I’m standing. “Autumn, baby, what the fuck is going on?”
I can’t stop crying. I can’t form any clear words. When he pulls me into his arms, I weep with utter abandon against his shirt.
“I was fine,” he murmurs, tightening one arm around me and stroking my hair and back with the other. “Baby, I was fine. I’m fine.”
“I told you to come down,” I manage to gurgle before I’m hit with another wave of sobbing. “I was scared.”
“I thought you were just being bossy.” His voice is hoarse and breathless, but maybe that’s just from the climb. “I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t want to have to climb up again, so I wanted to make sure I got what we needed right now.”
It makes sense. He makes sense. But it doesn’t quiet the panic that overwhelmed me. I cry for a long time while Edmund holds and pets me until finally the emotional storm is over.
I sniff as I straighten up and lift my head. “I’m okay.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.” I wipe my face with my hands. “I just fell apart.”
“Do you want to tell me why?”
“Not really.”
He frowns but doesn’t push it. He leans down to pick up the pile of branches I collected and carries them as we walk back to our shelter.
I splash water from our rainwater tub on my face, dry it off, and then sit down on our patio under the awning since the rain has gotten worse.
Edmund washes his hands and face too and then sits beside me. He’s looking at me, and I don’t like it.
“I just fell apart,” I burst out after a minute since I know he’s still waiting for an explanation of my behavior.
“I know you did. But it’s not like you at all. You’ve never done that before.”
“Well, this was different.”
“Why was it different?”
“Because I was afraid you were going to die!” The words come out so abruptly that I blink in surprise.
Edmund frowns.
I’m annoyed now at his obliviousness. “Don’t you ever do that to me again!”
“Do what? Climb a tree? I told you I didn’t want to do it again, so that’s why I wanted to make sure we had enough branches.”
“I don’t just mean the tree. I mean doing something dangerous. Risking your life. And not listening to me when I’m telling you something important.”
“I was listening,” he says softly, still looking faintly confused. “I just had to concentrate on what I was doing. I don’t think my life was in danger.”
“Well, it looked like it was from the ground. And I was... I was really scared.” I sniff and wipe at my face again. “Did it ever once occur to you how I would feel if something happened to you?”
He’s quiet for a long time, staring at a blank spot in the air beyond my head. Then, finally, he murmurs thickly, “Yes. It’s occurred to me. Because I know exactly how I would feel if something happened to you.”
I gurgle but manage not to burst into more tears. “So you see? That’s how I’d feel too. So don’t you ever do that to me again.”
With a guttural sound, he pulls me into a hug, and we kind of collapse so we’re holding each other stretched out on the patio. “I’m sorry, baby. I really am. I’m sorry I scared you. I still don’t think I was really in danger, but I can see that you thought I was.”
“I did.” I squeeze him hard. “I can’t make it without you, Edmund. I just... I can’t.”
“I know. Me either.” He sucks in a long, raspy breath. “I’ve actually thought about it. While you were so sick last week and every day afterward. I’ve thought about what I’ll do if anything happens to you.”
“What will you do?” I’m needy and shaky and genuinely curious.
“I have that knife,” he mutters, his face buried against the crook of my neck. “I would use it.”
“Edmund!”
“I would. I’m not living here alone without you.”
I’ve never heard that particular tone of voice from him before, and it touches something deep inside me.
It makes me admit the truth. “I might do the same. But that’s why we both need to be careful. We can’t leave each other in that position.”
“No. We can’t.” He finds my mouth and kisses me. “I’ll be careful, baby. I promise. We’re in this together, and it’s going to stay that way.”
His reassurances and the tightness of his embrace eventually make me feel better.
“We can make that kite now. Maybe it will work. Maybe someone will see it and come rescue us.”
“Maybe,” he mumbles. He kisses me again.
He’s always been the optimistic one. The one who believes that the world will eventually work out in our favor.
But I don’t think he believes we’ll ever be rescued anymore.
This is our life now. Just the two of us. For however many years we have remaining.
At least we have each other.
At least I’m with someone I love.
***
T HE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON we get the kite in the air.
It’s as easy as anything to catch the wind with it. It happens so quickly that the sharp pull makes me jump and stumble backward. Edmund has hold of the long vine string we made, and he slowly lets it out as the kite climbs higher and higher.
It’s thrilling. It makes me clap and cheer. Edmund is grinning for all he’s worth as the kite lifts as high as the string will allow and then kind of dances there against the sky.
He ties it off to a metal rail on the piece of his boat we turned into our shelter. And it stays up in the sky, the string occasionally jerking when the wind is particularly strong, until early evening when the breeze finally dies down.
The following morning we fly it and tie it off again and keep it up all day except for when a brief thunderstorm passes through midafternoon. For the next five days, we’re able to keep it in the air for at least eight hours every day and usually longer.
So the kite turns into a great success, and we add flying it to our list of daily chores and tasks.
One afternoon—I’ve long since lost track of days of the week—we’re lying together on a blanket in the shadiest part of the beach near our shelter. We had sex as soon as we settled here after our post-lunch swim. He took me from behind until I came, and then we rolled over so I was astride, and I rode him until we both reached climax. He pulled out at the end as he always does. We’re not going to risk me getting pregnant. Afterward, I cleaned myself up with water from the rain tub before lying down again, but he couldn’t make himself move.
So now we’re resting in post-sex languor, me wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt and him wearing nothing at all.
I think he dozed off for fifteen minutes, but now he stirs and turns his head to give me a sleepy smile. “You okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“I don’t know. You came pretty hard just now. I thought maybe you’d be at risk of passing out.”
I giggle helplessly, exactly as he intended. “No passing out for me. Your dick might be a sufficient size, but it’s not some sort of magic wand.”
He snorts but otherwise manages to stifle his laughter in order to give me an indignant glare. “Sufficient?”
“Yes. Sufficient is good, isn’t it?”
“It’s better than deficient , but it’s not as good as out of this world.”
I can’t help but laugh again, reaching over to pat his flat belly. “All right, champ. Your dick is an out-of-this-world size that makes all the girls swoon, and you should be very proud of it. Statues should be erected to its glory, and future generations will whisper of it in awe.”
He sniffs. “That’s better. Although the statue thing might be slightly over the top.”
I’m still shaking with laughter as I roll over to kiss him. Two months ago, I never would have dreamed of being able to do anything of the kind, and now it’s second nature. Like he’s mine to kiss and touch and take care of.
“Are you happy, Autumn?” he murmurs when I lift my head.
I’m basically lying on top of him now, and he’s slid his hands down to cup my bottom.
I think about the question before I respond. “Yes. I think I am. I mean, being stranded on an island isn’t ideal, but I’m glad to be with you, and I think we’ve done pretty well for ourselves.”
“I think so too.” His eyes are deep and earnest and the softest shade of brown as he gazes up at me. “Is there anything else you need me to do to make you happier?”
“No!” I sound and am surprised. “You’ve been amazing, Edmund. You’ve done more to keep us safe and take care of us than anyone else I can imagine.”
He swallows visibly. “I’ve been trying.”
“I know you have. You’ve done amazingly well. You’ve worked so hard for us. For me.”
“You’ve worked hard too, but you’ve always been that way.” He moves one of his hands from my butt so he can palm my cheek. “You’ve always taken care of me, but I’ve never had much practice at taking care of anyone. So this... this has been new to me.” He takes a weird, hoarse breath. “And... as bizarre as it sounds, I think I might actually be happier now than I was before. More... more like I’m doing what I was made to do. I know I should want us to get off this island, and of course part of me does. But I... I don’t want to lose this.”
I’m so touched by his vulnerable admission that my chest hurts. My heart is fluttering. “I don’t think you need to lose it even if we end up getting rescued. You can still work hard. Take care of people. Focus on what’s more important. Be close to the people in your life.”
“Can I?” His hand has slid down to wrap around the side of my neck in a deeply possessive gesture.
“Yes. Of course you can. But honestly, I’m not holding out much hope of our being rescued.”
“Me either. But if we’re stuck on this island for the rest of our lives, I’m glad that it’s you I’m with.”
I stifle a little whimper of feeling. My face tightens very briefly. “I’m glad it’s you I’m with too.”
Emotion twisting on his face, he pulls me down into another kiss, this one longer and deeper and slower. So incredibly tender.
“Autumn,” he finally mumbles against my mouth.
“Yes.” Everything inside me needs to hear what he’s about to say.
He doesn’t get to say it because an inexplicable noise breaks into the natural sounds around us.
It’s a horn. An extended blast of a horn.
Like on a boat.
We both jerk, and I roll off him quickly. We scramble to our feet and peer out at the rippling ocean.
There is a boat. A sailing yacht in the distance. And it’s headed toward the island.
It’s headed right toward us.
We run farther out onto the beach so we can see better, and there’s no mistaking it. I turn around to look up at the kite, and it’s still flying, secured on the rail where we tied it off again after lunch.
When the boat gets closer, we both yell and wave our arms, but our actions probably won’t make a difference. It seems to very clearly be heading for this island, whether the people on board see us or not.
“Shit,” Edmund exclaims, squinting into the distance. He’s stopped waving his arms now. “I think that’s my buddy’s yacht.”
“Your buddy?”
“Jon.”
“He’s the one who told you about this island?”
“Yes. It’s got to be him!”
He waves and calls out again, and I do the same until the ship is close enough for me to see the silhouette of someone standing on the deck, waving back at us.
“They see us.” I’m breathless and beaming as I turn toward Edmund. “Is this really happening?”
He turns to meet my eyes. He’s flushed from the sun and excitement. His hair and beard are absolute disasters. He’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life. “I think it is.”
“In that case, maybe you should go put on some clothes.” I gesture down at his lean, tanned body—long limbs, firm muscles, dark body hair. “You don’t want Jon or whoever that is to get freaked out and turn around.”
Edmund chuckles and does what I suggest, grabbing his shorts and then yanking on his thin, dingy T-shirt. While the shirt I’m wearing reaches midthigh, I do find my panties and shorts to pull on with it.
The boat is slowing down, and it stops when the water starts to get shallow. Then a man on deck jumps into the water and swims to the shore.
I recognize him when he stands up to wade the rest of the way toward us.
It’s not Jon. I assume Jon is the guy still on the yacht behind the helm.
The man coming toward us is Caleb. Big and wet and blue-eyed and smiling as he strides over.
“This is a damn miracle,” he says. “I can’t believe you both are still alive.”
I’m so overwhelmed with so many things that I actually throw myself at him in a hug.
He hugs me back, laughing and then releasing me. “I’m going to get you all wet.”
“We’ve been wet and sandy and covered with salt for two months,” I tell him. “How on earth did you find us?”
“Is that Jon on the yacht?” Edmund asks.
“It is,” Caleb explains, reaching over to clap Edmund on the back. “Everyone said you must have drowned, and that’s definitely what it looked like. Some of the wreckage from your boat ended up at the bottom of the ocean. But I wasn’t convinced, and I couldn’t understand why you all would have sailed so far out in the middle of nowhere. So I kept looking. When the authorities wouldn’t do anything else, I started asking all your friends what you might have been doing. I finally reached Jon, who mentioned he’d told you about this island. Then I had to wait three more weeks for him to have time to sail me out this far to look.”
I’m torn between laughing and crying and collapsing onto the sand. “I can’t believe it.”
Edmund looks like he’s similarly torn. He steps over and wraps an arm around me.
Caleb is peering around at our camp and our shelter and up at our kite. “It looks like you’ve done really well here.”
“We’ve done our best.” I lean against Edmund and smile up at Caleb. “We were just coming to terms with the fact that we might never get off this island, but I guess this means we get to go home.”
***
T HE REST OF THE DAY passes in a surreal haze.
Caleb helps us put things in order in our camp and collect anything we want to bring with us. There’s not much, but we take two of our coconut bowls, our clothes, and the kite. We put everything else in the shelter—in case anyone else gets shipwrecked here, Edmund quips.
Then we swim out to the boat, and Jon helps to haul us up.
In less than an hour, we’re sailing home.
We talk most of the afternoon with Jon and Caleb, explaining to them what happened and how we survived. It’s exciting. And deeply relieving.
And also incredibly disorienting.
It doesn’t feel real. At the beginning, life on the island was what felt like a dream or a bubble, but now it’s the other way around.
Nothing is real except the island.
We eat a dinner of soup and sandwiches, but it all tastes too salty and overly processed. By eight o’clock in the evening, I’m so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open.
Caleb suggests I take a shower and go to bed, and I see no reason to argue.
The shower is one of those cramped wet-room kinds with just a handheld showerhead, but it still feels like a miracle to soap up and rinse off. To wash my hair thoroughly and comb it out. I put on a clean T-shirt Caleb gave me and then crawl into bed in the guest cabin. It’s a double bed fit into a small nook, but it feels like luxury.
I’m curled up under the covers, feeling weird and shaky and lonely when Edmund comes into the cabin, wearing a pair of boxers that don’t fit him very well.
He smells like the same soap I used, and his hair and beard are wet. He climbs into bed beside me without a word.
I scoot toward him as he wraps his arms around me. I’m still shaking as I bury my face against his shoulder.
He smells so clean. Not what I’m used to. But I don’t care. It’s still him.
“You okay, baby?” he mumbles, tightening his arms around me.
“I don’t even know. I... Everything... It doesn’t feel real.”
“I know. For me too. It feels like the whole world is swirling around me, and I can’t even keep my balance.”
“That’s how I feel too. It’s so strange that everything happened so quickly. And it’s crazy, but I almost feel sad. Like we left our whole life back there. We just took off and left it behind.”
“Did you want to stay?” His voice is hoarse, but he doesn’t sound surprised. He sounds serious. Like wanting to stay marooned on that island is really a possibility.
“Of course we can’t stay. Our poor families and all our friends will be waiting for us. It wasn’t real life back there. It just... It just felt that way.”
“It was life.” He nuzzles my hair. “We made it a life. It’s just not our normal one. At least we’re going back to showers and medicine and steaks.”
“And Coke and chocolate.” I smile against his skin. “And air-conditioning.”
He chuckles and rubs my back. “Why are you still shaking, baby?”
“I don’t know. I’m just... I’m just scared for some reason. Like everything is about to change.”
He sighs and hugs me tighter. “That’s because it is.”
We don’t say anything else, but we hold each other until we fall asleep.