Chapter 17

She remembered very little from the night before, just short snippets captured in quick, curious flashes. Grant’s eyes gazing calmly into hers as he gave her water, a tender word here and there offering comfort and reassurance, a warm body cradling her against the suffering cold. It was as though her own vulnerability allowed him to truly let his guard down, to offer intimacy. His kindness confused her.

He seemed so distant, when she was sobbing earlier, like her emotions were off-putting, weak even. She hated losing control in front of him. She knew it wasn’t unusual for people to have strong reactions upon waking from unconsciousness; anger, rage, fear, and sometimes even tears, but he’d pulled away and distanced himself. What really she needed was his reassurance, affection, forgiveness. Why was it so hard for him to see that?

She felt like they were balancing on an emotional tightrope around each other, navigating every step, pushing forward at a snail’s pace. It was frustrating and exhausting trying to see beneath the veil he so carefully hid behind.

Yet at the same time he could be so nurturing and tender. Although she was not fully coherent, she did remember him carrying her back to the shelter, redressing her, washing the dirt off her face. He’d meticulously taken care of her through the night, waking her every few hours in case she had a concussion, whispering to her, kissing her...

Did he kiss her, or had she been dreaming? All she remembered was how delicious his lips felt on hers, warm, reassuring, persuasive. It had only been a moment but the feeling stirred something lost in her, something she thought was gone forever. It was as though his kiss had invited her home, through the deepest parts of her soul, back to herself.

It must have been a dream.

Joss opened her eyes, allowing them adjust to the light. She expected to find Grant beside her but he was gone. She slowly sat up, allowing the dizziness to ebb. She’d pushed herself too hard, that was for certain. It was one of her greatest faults. Her pride could sometimes be a liability. For the most part, she had learned to control it, but Grant pushed her buttons. Not that she was blaming him. No, she was totally accountable for her actions, her bad decisions, but for some reason he’d gotten the best of her and she needed to figure out why.

The cozy scent of a campfire wafted through the natural curtain, inviting her to investigate. She pulled on her boots and crawled through the opening, greeted by Grant’s smile. It was a welcoming sight.

“Morning,” she yawned, pulling up beside him. Still a little dizzy, she ran her fingers through her hair, certain she looked like death warmed over.

“Mornin,” he returned, cocking his head. “How you feeling?”

Joss pursed her lips, wishing she had better news. “To be honest, not great. Thanks for helping me out last night. I can be a bit stubborn.”

“You don’t say,” he mused, his eyes teasing her. “I found some mint growing nearby and I made tea. I thought it might settle your tummy.”

Impressed, Joss eyed the stainless steel water bottle steaming near the fire, the mint leaves steeping inside. “I’d love some. How did you find dry wood to burn?”

“I stored kindling and wood under some fronds yesterday, before the storm blew in. I thought we might want a fire once the rain stopped. It was cold as shit last night, we could have used a fire, but it didn’t stop pissing down until a few hours ago.”

He carefully lifted the tea off away from the heat, setting it on the ground next to him. “Right then, this needs a few minutes to cool.”

She nodded at him, wishing she could add some willow bark or cloves to help ease her pain. Every inch of her body was aching, like she’d run a marathon...or fallen out of a damn tree.

“Hungry?” he asked, passing her some mango. She shook her head, waving him off. “I think I’ll just stick to the tea for now. You go ahead,” she urged.

“Don’t mind if I do. I worked up quite an appetite yesterday, building the shelter.”

“You didn’t eat?” she asked, her brows raised in concern.

“Nah, honestly I think I had too much adrenalin coursing through me to even to think about food, but I’m hungry now,” he winked, sinking his teeth into the fleshy part of the mango.

“Sorry about that,” she blushed, still feeling the sting of her shame. She wished she could turn back the clock and make better choices.

“Don’t fret about it,” he said, gently bumping her shoulder with his own. “What’s done is done. Let’s just move past it and figure out how we’re going to get ourselves back to camp.” He threw the rind into the fire, wiping his hands on his slacks.

“Fine with me,” she agreed, offering him a weak smile. The guys were probably worried sick about them, but the way she was feeling she wasn’t sure she’d be able to hike the hour back, at least not for awhile. She was still pretty weak.

“We’ll just see how the morning goes, take things nice and slow, right?” he suggested warmly, rubbing her softly between her shoulder blades, oblivious to the mango on his face. Joss chuckled softly and raised her hand to his chin, using her thumb to wipe away the pulp. Grant grinned impishly at her.

“Hmmm, you gonna eat that?” he teased, wrapping his hand around hers. Before she could object, he pulled her thumb into his mouth, slowly sucking the juices off. She stared at him, wide eyed, surprised yet incredibly turned on by the seductive gesture.

“Delicious,” he growled, releasing her hand with a naughty wink. She was speechless. It was the last thing she’d expected from Grant, but admittedly she loved his playful side. She wished he would show it more often.

“Tea?” he asked, handing her the container, as though the sexy exchange never happened. Joss laughed and shook her head, accepting the minty brew. He tried to hide his smile from her, but failed miserably.

She couldn’t explain why, but it set her at ease, back to where they’d left things at the waterfall. She watched him stoke the fire, unaware that she was staring at him. She knew so little about him, he so rarely spoke about himself. She wondered what his story was, what made him tick. He’d started opening up the day before, but for some reason he’d changed the subject. She wanted to know more. She had a feeling they were more similar than different.

“How’s the tea?” he asked, turning towards her. She tore her eyes away, embarrassed he caught her staring. She could sense him grinning beside her.

“It’s good,” she offered, taking a quick sip, mindful not to burn her tongue. “Delicious actually. How did you sweeten it?”

“I used a little mango juice. I thought you might like it.”

“I do,” she smiled, pleased by his thoughtfulness. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” he agreed, looking up.

“Yesterday you mentioned that you’ve had some challenges, a difficult past. We never finished that conversation,” she began cautiously, certain the subject needed a gentle touch.

“Is that a question?” he teased, as though trying to deflect her with humor. She wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily.

“The question is coming,” she smirked, undeterred.

“Should I be scared?” His grin may have been light, playful even, but his eyes said otherwise. He seemed nervous.

“Not at all,” she assured, taking his hand. “Be serious, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Why do you think you’re cursed. What’s that all about?”

“Well, I think I’ve shown you why I think that, haven’t I? The plane crash, the banana tree...I seem to be a catalyst for bad things to happen,” he offered, his tone light, yet still woven with undeniable sadness.

“I fell out of the tree because I misjudged my abilities,” she shrugged, “just like you did that night of the storm. That doesn’t mean you’re a beacon for bad luck.”

“Maybe,” he grimaced, still not convinced.

“Why do I think there’s something more,” she pressed gently, her eyes encouraging him to be brave, to share his pain with her. She wanted him to know, more than anything, that he could trust her.

“I don’t know,” he sighed, visibly upset.

“You do.”

He paused for a moment, as though considering how much to divulge, a pained look on his handsome face. She waited for him to come to whatever conclusion he needed to, but hoped he would let her in, reveal his heart to her. If they were as alike as she imagined, it would be hard for him, but it would also mean that he was ready for a stronger friendship with her.

“I...um...it’s hard to talk about,” he began, struggling to get the words out.

She took his hand and held it, her smile encouraging him to try. “It’s okay. We’ll go slow.”

He looked down at their hands laced together in solidarity and nodded, as though submitting to her tenderness.

“I killed someone.”