5. Five
The sun was unrelenting as it blazed in the sky, and West’s shirt felt like a wet rag. His feet dragged through the sand, and he finally collapsed to his knees with a gasp of relief as they stumbled onto the shoreline.
Slowly, he raised his head, squinting against the glare from the sea, and surveyed their surroundings. The beach curved gently around them like an embrace, fringed by rocks on both sides. He looked down at his feet; they were already beginning to sting from the heat of the sand, and he cursed himself for not wearing shoes.
Clusters of shrubs and little trees lined the shore before giving way to tall trees that reached up toward the sky like hands outstretched from a deep green pool. A vast mountain rose in the center of the island, dominating the horizon with its sheer size. Surely someone had to live on an island this big, but there was no sign of life on the beach.
He took his shirt off in hopes it would dry quicker, turning to see Kat behind him struggling to stand, her legs shaky from floating and kicking in the water for so long. She pulled the hoodie she had been wearing over her head, and West glimpsed the swell of her stomach and secretly hoped the shirt underneath would be pulled up farther.
A feeling he didn’t want to acknowledge shot through him as he stared at her midriff. She wasn’t plain or simple like he had tried to delude himself into believing, she was stronger than he had given her credit for. There was no other woman he could think of who wouldn’t be collapsing in fear at their current situation.
Kat plopped down unceremoniously next to him, sighing loudly, her eyes shut tight.
“I think I’ll just never open my eyes again,” she said, bundling her hoodie and shoving it under her head like a pillow.
He peered down the length of her body, his gaze lingering as her wet linen pants clung to every curve. Since the incident he had tried so hard to put her out of his mind, to not see her as a woman, but just as his bandmate. He was an idiot.
Every shade of bronze mingled within her skin. Her hair drenched, and yet still shining in the sun, was the color of melted chocolate, each strand like spun silk. She had an average-sized waist that eased into lush hips.
West’s gaze raked up her form. As she lay on the sand, her drenched shirt stuck to the curves of her breasts, revealing the outline of her bra beneath. He could easily imagine his large hands reaching out to cup them. With closed eyes, her facial features had softened, exposing a vulnerable side to her typically harsh expression. Her aquiline nose gave her an aura of sophistication. Her full pink lips glistened under the sunlight, and he wondered what they tasted like, and then instantly admonished himself for such a thought. They had tried that already once, a long time ago, but Kat wasn’t his type. She was too good for him and now was definitely not the time.
She popped one eye open and stared at him. “What are you looking at, Weston?”
“Why do you call me Weston?” he asked, deflecting the question. “My friends all call me West; Weston is just my stage name.”
She sat up, dusting the sand from her hands. Not that it did anything for the coating of sand along her back. “We’re not exactly friends, are we?”
West reached up to swipe the sand out of her hair, smiling as she tried to bat his hands away. “We’ve worked together for ten years,” he pointed out.
“That doesn’t make us friends,” she whispered.
Her hair felt like silk in his hand, even after hours in the salty ocean. Even once the sand was all gone, he continued to stroke it as he looked into her eyes, tucking a stray piece behind her ear. He remembered now why he had been intrigued by her so many years ago as he felt an unearthly pull emanating between them. She wasn’t the type of woman he usually desired, yet something about her made him want to count the myriad shades of brown he saw reflected in her eyes; she was hypnotically alluring.
A bird made a squawking noise in the sky, and he dropped her hair as if it were on fire before he did something they’d both regret.
“West?”
It took him a moment to register she was talking to him, and that she’d used the name he preferred his friends to use.
“Yeah?”
“How the hell did this happen?”
He shook his head and rested it in his palms, the sand scratching at his skin. “I honestly don’t know.”
Kat made a sound as if she didn’t believe him. What did she think? That he’d thrown himself overboard? Things were bleak, but not that bleak.
He stood up, his angry energy making him anxious. “I mean it. One moment I was walking on the deck, and the next I was tripping and falling, and my reflexes were too slow to catch myself until it was too late. But I keep feeling like something happened, like something touched me. I swear I saw a shadow on the deck.”
Kat stood up to keep pace with him as he walked away. “You think someone was on the deck with you? Like what? They pushed you?”
He shrugged. “Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t remember! It’s all such a haze.”
She slowed her pace, and he stopped, turning to wait for her. She took in a deep breath before speaking. “You were drunk, that’s all it is. You were drunk, and you tripped off the boat, taking me with you.”
Fury bubbled up inside him, an emotion he rarely used. “No. You sent us plunging into the ocean. You should have gotten help.”
Kat walked up closer to him, her eyes sparking in anger. “No . . .” She dragged the word out. “You were about to fall in. I went to save you, and I would’ve too if I’d known how to tie better knots.”
He snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. “Clearly. But that would also take being able to follow directions, something you obviously don’t know how to do.”
“What? I’ve been taking directions from your deluded ass for a decade.”
“Pfft . . . when you want to.”
“What the hell does that mean?” she said, her voice going up practically an octave.
“I don’t think that’s the right note, Weston,” he said, trying to mimic her voice. “That harmony will sound like shit, Weston; you don’t want keys there it will overpower the guitar. Why am I way back here? I can’t hear the others.”
“Enough,” she cut him off. “You’re getting off topic here. You’re the one who got rip-roaring drunk and fell off the goddamn boat, but you’d rather blame me or the mysterious ghost who pushed you overboard than take responsibility for your actions. Which is rather typical, don’t you think?” Her finger pushed into his chest as she craned her neck to look up at him.
“And what the hell does that mean?” he said, purposely copying her.
“URGH! Why are you so infuriating?”
West tried to hide his smile as she breezed past him. “Where are you going?” he called.
“Away from you. There has to be some other human on this godforsaken island that can free me of you once and for all!”
But as she trudged away through the sand, her steps faltered, and suddenly she was falling.
In an instant, he was there to catch her as her legs trembled and gave way underneath her.
“Kat! Kat!”
Slowly, he allowed himself to sink into the sand. His arms supported her weight as her eyelids fluttered open, and she took in their surroundings. He felt the contours of her body against his, surprised by how effortlessly they fit together.
“Wha-what happened?”
West helped her sit back up, but she was still unsteady.
“You fainted,” he told her.
She gave him a scathing look. “Fainted sounds so Victorian. Oh, please Mr. Belvedere, go get my smelling salts. I fear I’ve got a touch of the vapors again,” she said in her best English accent.
West tried to smile at her joke but worry for her ate away at him.
“I just need water,” she reassured him. “There has to be a stream or waterfall somewhere on this island.”
“I’ll go search for it. You stay here.” He would not have her passing out on him again.
Kat rolled her eyes and squared her jaw with determination. “No,” she said, standing up and walking inland, her steps uneven.
West sighed, crossing his arms across his chest. “Kat, you just passed out. You don’t need to do this. I’ll find water and bring you some.”
“I don’t need some high and mighty man to bring me water,” she said, turning to face him. “One, you have no container to bring it back in; two, who knows how far away it is; and three, you have no navigational skills whatsoever, so you would one hundred percent get lost getting back to me.”
West silently cursed under his breath; how did she even know about his lack of direction? She raised an eyebrow in silent challenge and then began trudging into the forest.
“Better get your shirt,” she called to him from the trees.
Infuriating woman.
He walked back to where his shirt lay, now covered in a thin layer of sand. He shook out the fabric and ran to catch up with her, wondering how he could be both worried about someone’s welfare and want to strangle them at the same time.
Kat walked into the rainforest, following behind West as he moved ahead of her. The awkward silence loomed between them like a knife overhead, and while what she wanted to know was what had happened that night he had left her so long ago, she knew now wasn’t the time. Instead, she decided to probe into his personal life to take her mind off their predicament. Or maybe curiosity had just gotten the better of her after Reggie, the tour bassists had gotten drunk and told them all about West and Gia’s epic fight in Paris.
“So, why did Gia throw a hair dryer at your head? I heard it was quite the fight.”
West moved the brush aside as they made their way inland. A cacophony of bird sounds rustling the trees drew her attention, sending a shiver through her body. She didn’t want to think about what lurked behind all the trees and bush.
“I ended things with her.”
“You two are always ending things.”
“No, she’s always ending things,” he amended, as he stepped over a large fallen tree. Kat’s short legs had a much harder time, and he turned to help her over.
The trees were tall and wide, with thick canopies that blocked out the sun. Monkeys chattered in the branches above as birds circled overhead. But not a trace of humanity anywhere. Despite the surrounding beauty, she felt a chill run down her spine as she wondered what lurked unseen beyond the bush. She felt ill at ease within the wide expanse of the unknown, even if she was slightly enjoying the peaceful sounds around her.
“Why take her back then?” she asked, her movements stopped as his blue gaze left her momentarily stunned. He grabbed her hand, and, before she could protest, lifted her over the tree.
“That’s how she was, and for a while, I was fine with it. She’d get mad about something stupid, break up with me, go out with some young rising star, and post it all over social media. I’d apologize in some grand fashion, and she’d be back.”
He was still holding her hand. She had known one side of West—the spoiled, standoffish, and selfish side—but she was seeing there was more, and that was bad, bad, bad.
His heat wrapped around her, and even after a night spent floating in the ocean, she could still smell his soap: crisp sage, pine, and something unique to only him.
He released her, and she walked ahead of him. “That sounds like an awful relationship.” She forced herself to ignore how good he smelled.
“I realized it was, and I ended it officially when we were in Paris. That’s why you haven’t seen anything posted. She doesn’t want anyone to know. She keeps trying to get me back, but I guess at some point you discover you want more for yourself.” His hand reached out, pulling her back. “Let me go first.”
“Why? I’m perfectly capable of going first,” she said, crossing her arms. “I can find water, climb over logs, swim. And shocker—this little woman can move tree leaves just as good as you.” She knew she sounded childish, but she needed distance between them. She didn’t want sweet, nice West—the West she had worked with their first year together. The West that had made her believe in silly things, like rich rock stars could actually be nice guys. That might ruin her when this was all over.
West’s eyes were smiling on his ridiculously tanned, handsome face, and for a moment, she forgot why they were even arguing.
“What?” she said exasperated. “Are you laughing at me?”
“No,” he said, a slight chuckle in his voice. “It’s just, right now, in this situation, you’re so cute. And I know that’s going to make you mad, but Kat, you don’t have to be strong. We are lost on an island, dehydrated, hungry, tired. I have no shoes, my feet hurt like hell, and from what I can tell, this island is uninhabited. I’m not sure how we’re getting out of here, so please let me be just a little bit helpful to you. Why struggle to get over the log when you can have help?”
He had voiced the fears she hadn’t wanted to think about. The thoughts that she had pushed to the back of her mind. She had compartmentalized their problems into survival mode. First had been finding land. They had done that. She hadn’t gotten to the “get off the island” or “get home” part of the plan yet.
“One step at a time, West. Water first,” she said, willing the tears to stay back. How could he see right into her soul like that? He didn’t even know her. She didn’t need his permission to not be strong, and she wasn’t about to crumple because big strong West was going to save the day. If she wanted to struggle over the log, then she’d fucking struggle to get over the log.
In what felt like hours of walking, they both had fallen silent, West’s body aching for water and rest. He could only imagine how Kat felt. He saw a bead of sweat glide down her neck, and his imagination ran wild. What would she taste like there? How would she react if his tongue took the same path?
“You know this is all your fault,” she grumbled, gesturing for him to walk ahead of her as they closed in on a large tree, shaking him from his thoughts.
“Didn’t we just have this conversation? I’m pretty sure you could have found help, but fine. I’ll bite. You shouldn’t have tried to save my sorry ass at all. You should have just let me fall in.”
“Probably.” She shrugged. “In the immortal words of the esteemed Alanis, ‘you live, you learn.’”
“Ah yes, now there’s an album I had on constant rotation in my childhood.” His tone was laced with sarcasm.
“I’m sure Jagged Little Pill was at the top of your list,“ Kat laughed, and West wanted to make her do it again, the sultry sound flowing through his entire nervous system, making him feel all his nerve endings. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her so relaxed around him.
He turned around with his hand over his heart as if she had wounded him. “I have absolutely nothing against female empowerment rock anthems. I write love songs and praise everything about women, for Christ’s sake. I love women.”
She made a face as if to say yeah, right.
“So, what made you give a big fuck you to your old man’s music? I mean, he can’t love your choice of genre.”
West’s jaw clenched, trying not to let her see she’d hit a nerve. The subject of West and his father was a contentious one, one he didn’t want to talk about. It hadn’t been easy growing up in the shadow of one of the ’80s biggest rock stars.
“He’s not exactly proud,” he said. “But I didn’t quit music completely and become a fireman or something normal, so he deals with my ‘girly’ rock, as he calls it.”
“I think you would make a great fireman. Is that want you wanted to be?”
West thought about it for a minute. No one had really asked him what he wanted to be. Everyone had just assumed he wanted to be a musician. “For the longest time, I thought about every job I would do that wasn’t being a musician. I wanted to be a pilot the most.”
“So, what changed?” she asked. “You obviously became a musician, and I personally think you enjoy it.”
West turned back toward her. “At first, I didn’t have any other skills or training, so it was the only thing I knew how to do,” West said. “I’m not like Luke. I needed something to do, more than just sit around and live off daddy’s money. But after releasing my first album and going on my first headlining tour, I realized why my dad loved being a rock star so much. The crowds, the people I met, the feel of a guitar in my hands, and the music surrounding me—there’s no greater feeling than knowing I created that music.”
“Then why quit?” West could tell Kat was trying to push at him, and he wasn’t sure how much more he was willing to answer. He had never told anyone these things, and yet with her, it seemed easy. Something he didn’t want to think about when it came to why he pushed her away all those years ago.
Not that he was going to tell her everything. “It’s not enjoyable anymore,” was all he offered her.
“But . . . it can be. You just need to—“
“Kat, that’s enough. I don’t want to talk about it,” he cut her off.
“But—“
“Kat, please, not right now. I don’t want to fight, and I don’t want to explain myself. I just want to get you water and know you’re safe.”
She took a step back from him, annoyance on her face, and West felt bad that he had snapped at her.
Moving toward her he shrank the space between them. They had entered a clearing where the trees had parted into an open canopy. A single sun ray pierced through the leaves and shone on her like a halo. His fingertips lightly grazed her arm and moved down her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. She didn’t move, and all West could focus on was how soft her skin was beneath his touch.
West could hear her breathing become uneven. His proximity unsettled her, and he didn’t know why he felt compelled to touch her.
“I’m sorry, Kat,” he said.
He wasn’t usually one for apologies, but there was something about falling drunkenly off a yacht into the Indian Ocean that had West realizing he owed her one. “This situation is all my fault. I usually never get so drunk, although I didn’t think I was drunk enough to fall off a yacht. I still feel like something is off about all this, but I’m going to take responsibility for our predicament. I promise I will get us out of this.”
She blinked up at him in confusion, and he could swear he saw disappointment in her eyes. Whatever she was expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. She shook her head and rolled her eyes before turning away from him, annoyed by something he said.
“You don’t have to keep promising to save me,” she called back over her shoulder as she continued walking.
“Kat, wait . . . where are you going?”
“Come look!” she cried from up ahead. He couldn’t see her, but he could hear the excitement in her voice.
“What is it?” As he got closer, he saw she had found a small stream with a little waterfall and she was drinking the water eagerly, a smile on her face.
As he walked toward the stream, relief coursed through West’s body. But his euphoria was short-lived as he felt something slimy and squishy underneath one of his bare feet. Before he could react, a searing pain shot through his foot and he stumbled to the ground, clutching it in agony. Looking down, he saw two puncture marks on the top of his foot and watched in horror as a snake slithered away into the brush.
“Shit!” he yelled, his heart beating wildly with fear.
“What happened?” Kat asked, her voice trembling with concern as she rushed to his side.
“I-I stepped on a snake,” West managed to choke out between gasps of pain.
“It bit you?” Her face turned white with alarm.
West nodded weakly, feeling his vision blur and head spin.
“What color was it?” Kat demanded urgently.
“What does that matter?” West cried out, trying to stay conscious.
“Just tell me!” Kat’s voice rose in panic as she moved closer to him.
“Green,” West gritted out before succumbing to darkness.