13
Day 28 – Juliet
I stomped back to my spot in the jungle, forcing each step like a child having a tantrum. It took more strength than he’d known to come to his beach and wait for him. I wanted to thank him for what he’d done to save me, but the moment he opened his mouth, I hated him again. I swatted at the foliage obscuring my hissy-fit as I trudged back to my space.
I reached for the rope ladder but paused as the world spun a little. Wiping my brow, I continued upward despite shaking hands. At one point, I slipped and slid my arms through the rung to hold myself steady. By the time I reached the platform, I was shaking from a cold sweat. Swiping my forehead again, I found I was warm to the touch and longed for a warm bath, even though I’d taken a cool one before I went to his tent.
I don’t know why I bothered to clean myself for him. He wasn’t important to me. I didn’t care that he called me skinny or said I looked tired. I was tired. Climbing the rope ladder took all my strength with none remaining to pull up the rope ties. I wanted to prove to him I wasn’t weak, but he’d called me Mouse again, and I despised the nickname.
I stretched for my bed and then curled onto my side. My teeth rattled slightly, and I pulled the blanket over myself, falling into a restless sleep.
+ +
I awoke on the dirt floor of the jungle, my head aching from resting on the root of a tree. I’d crawled down the ladder after the smell of my own waste got the better of me. There was no modern convenience of toilets and plumbing, and when the chamber pot was full enough to reek, I’d found my way to the base of the ladder, using the wild as a latrine. I hadn’t made it far. My stomach lurched and I released from any opening, my body rejecting whatever had caused this fever. Convinced I was going to die, I curled up at the base of my tree, reveling in the coolness of the leaves and dirt beneath me. I don’t know how long I lay in this position, but I believed I’d been here at least a day, maybe two. I didn’t have the strength to stand. I hardly had the energy to crawl away to relieve myself. The stench lingered around me.
“Jesus, what is that smell?” The masculine tenor circulated somewhere above my head, and, sick as I was, I groaned at the possibility that he found me laying in waste and smelling like a sewer.
“Leave me alone,” I mumbled, not certain the words left my lips.
“Juliet?” he questioned as if there could be any other female on the island. I didn’t answer him. Footsteps crunched softly on the leaves nearby and a shadow fell over me. “Juliet!” The frantic tone surprised me.
“What happened?” Instantly, I sensed him kneeling before me, but I refused to open my eyes. Go away, I prayed, hoping he was a dream, an illusion I conjured in my misery. A cool hand cupped my cheek.
“You’re burning up.” The sound of his voice was too loud, and I winced. Feet scrambled near my head and I heard the clank of the rope ladder being jostled. He’s stealing everything from me, I thought, and then decided I didn’t care. He could take whatever he needed.
His presence returned. “Can you walk?” he asked but didn’t wait for a reply before scooping me up and cradling me against his chest. The cool sensation of his cotton T-shirt under my cheek was a nice respite from the hardness of the ground.
“Don’t…” I couldn’t finish my thought. Don’t carry me. I wanted to question where he was taking me, but I didn’t have the strength to ask. He’d be able to do whatever he pleased to me. Disgusting as I was at the moment, he didn’t seem repelled by me. We traveled what felt like an eternity before he set me on the ground again. Beneath my shirt and shorts, I was naked. I stopped bothering with a bra and underwear when the fever hit. Tack didn’t remark on that fact as he removed my clothing and cradled me again, and I was too spent to care, as the sound of rushing water and the gentler sounds of lapping strides overtook my senses before he lowered me into the cool pool. I might have groaned at both the comfort and the ache. My body trembled.
“Shhh, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, and the words conjured all kinds of memories. With no will to fight him, I mumbled, “Just let me die.”
He pulled me tighter to his chest, as we were both dipped into the water. He brushed a hand over my hair. The cool touch was a welcome sensation to my aching head.
“You’re not going to die.”
“I want to,” I muttered. The pain in my skull made me want to lop off my own head. My stomach rumbled with the jostling of our walk. My body ached in places I didn’t know could feel pain.
“Don’t say that. I don’t believe you. You wouldn’t be on this godforsaken island searching for forgiveness if you wished to die. I don’t want to hear that.” His tone was sharp, and he jiggled me against him as if the force of physical pressure could rid me of the thoughts. I winced. I had nothing left. No one cared about me. The experiment was a failure with his presence. I had nothing to live for.
“Hold on,” he demanded and I was lifted once again, my skin prickling from the loss of the cold water. My body shivered again in the heat. He shifted to place me on my feet but my legs gave out. I anticipated the hard ground but he caught me before I landed. “Shit,” he mumbled before something encircled my body, soft and comforting like a sheet.
“Don’t give up,” he commanded, and my feet were swept out from under me. Wrapped in his arms again, he carried me once more. I had no idea where he was taking me, and I settled into the jolting motion as the world disappeared.
+ +
“Drink,” he commanded.
Pressed to a sitting position, it was warm where I sat, too warm. Something cool pressed my lips and I opened without thought then clamped my mouth closed. I couldn’t handle food. I didn’t want to drink. I spit out the liquid, feeling something else behind my teeth.
“We’re going to play this my way, Mouse,” he said, and my throat closed. My tongue fought the pills behind my teeth. My heart raced and a memory flashed. Eyes shooting open, blinking in the dim light, I pushed back on the hand holding a spoon outstretched toward my lips. I swatted as if a bug buzzed near my head.
“Jesus, settle down,” he snapped. Liquid trickled down the front of my shirt and a spoon hit the bedding.
“Oh no,” he muttered. “Swallow it.” A finger pressed on my lips until I couldn’t hold back any longer. Invading my mouth, his finger forced the tablets to my throat. I bit down on the digit.
“Fuck, Mouse,” he snapped, snatching his index finger from my mouth.
I pulled my head back, continuing to press my hands forward, but a firm hand held my neck. Panic set in. My feet began to kick at a sheet. The flat of my hand hit his bare chest. The other palm pressed out at his wrist, desperately pushing.
“Stop fighting me,” he demanded and squeezed the nape of my neck. “It’s fever medicine. Swallow it. And you need to try to drink something. Anything.” There was a pause as his voice cracked. “Please.”
I stilled, and my eyes shifted to him. His head bowed as he shook it side to side. His eyes were closed as if in frustration. I’d made a mess of myself, and the moisture seeped through my shirt. Lifting a weak hand, I tried to swipe at the spill on my chest with my knuckles. His head shot up, and he looked directly at my eyes.
“I’ll get you another clean shirt.” Releasing my neck, he scrambled off the pallet that held a mattress and an open sleeping bag. The sheet was at my feet and I looked down at myself. The motion made me dizzy, and I lay back. A down pillow caught my head, and I nuzzled into the comfort.
“I’m going to change you again,” he stated, reaching for the hem of my shirt and beginning to lift the material. My hand swatted at his.
“I promise not to look, but you already showed me everything,” he teased. I smacked at him again.
“I can do it,” I choked.
“I’m trying to help.” His voice rose, and I stopped struggling, letting my fingers come to rest on his wrist. It wasn’t sensual, but it felt intimate as if my body shifted from fight to flight, and I held onto him to hold me steady, tethering me to the ground. We sat for the longest sixty seconds of my life with my hand clutching his wrist and his eyes staring into mine before I released him and sat up to dress myself. He had the decency to shift his body, and I slipped off the wet tee. Redressing took all my strength, and I lay on his pillow once more.
“You need to drink something. Just a little bit.” I nodded, allowing him to hold up my head and swallowing a few sips of cold water. I pulled back too quickly, and water trickled down my chin to my neck. He took the shirt I’d just worn and wiped at my jaw, caressing my collarbone.
“Try to sleep again. I’ll be right here.”
That’s what I was afraid of, but I fell into a deep sleep.
+ +
With the pressure of a hand on my hip, I woke with a start, sitting bolt upright. Twisting, I found Tack next to me on the mattress. His fingers clutched my hip with the movement of me sitting. I looked down at myself to see I wore a shirt I didn’t recognize. Two sizes too big, it slid off my shoulder.
“Hey,” his sleepy voice croaked, sounding strangely seductive. He cleared his throat and teased, “You wake.” I stared down at him a moment, his expression casual as he lay with his rumpled hair spread on the pillow. When I turned away from him, he sat up, running a hand through his unruly locks. It had grown long in a month. His green eyes glowed despite the darkness. His facial hair looked jagged, hanging in chopped patches. My eyes stopped on his mouth.
“I should go,” I said, but he raised a hand to stop me.
“Don’t even start with that again.” I blinked in confusion. “You’ve been muttering for me to let you die, and take you home, and everything in between. You aren’t going anywhere.”
My tongue felt heavy in my mouth, and I swallowed the bad taste.
“I’m so thirsty.”
To my surprise, his face brightened, a full smile curling his lips. My brow pinched in question, but he ignored me and hopped over my outstretched legs. He returned to the bed quickly with a cup of fresh water.
“Drink slowly. We don’t want you getting sick again.” His smile lessened a little, but the curl to his lips remained teasing.
“You feeling better, baby?” His hand brushed over my head, and between the touch and the term of endearment, I pulled back.
“Sorry,” he muttered. I raised the cup to my lips and took few more slow sips. The water was tepid but refreshing. My mouth still felt like a cat settled in it.
“Think you could eat something?”
I shook my head, flexing my legs, stiff from disuse but no longer aching from the fever. He removed the cup from my hand and crawled back over me. I looked toward the opening of the tent where darkness was falling behind the flap.
“Don’t even think about it,” he mumbled, lying down beside me, his hand resting on the base of my spine. “Lay back down.”
On autopilot, I did as he said, twisting my body to face away from him. My back toward him, his hand returned to my hip.
“You were pretty sick. Are you sure that snake didn’t get you?”
I shook my head as an answer.
“That was one of the scariest moments of my life,” he mumbled, his breath brushing the back of my neck. My hair was clumped in a loose loop and tied with a band, but I didn’t remember wrapping it. “But seeing you on the jungle floor, surrounded by…” His voice faded and I heard him swallow. “I thought that was it.” His tone lowered. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“Why were you there?” My own voice croaked from disuse.
“I felt bad about how things went when you came to the beach. I wanted to apologize for my attitude.” We both seemed to suck in a breath at the admission. The words tumbled off his lips, but I felt him stiffen behind me as if he surprised himself with what he said.
“I’m sorry.” The apology was so low, I wasn’t sure I heard him. The hand at my hip slipped to my lower belly. It was my turn to stiffen in response, but he ignored the rigidity and tugged me to him. My back hit his chest and his hand climbed upward between my breasts. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, a warm breath caressed my neck, tickling the hairs at the nape.
His hand continued its travels, coming to rest over my heart which raced fast enough I assumed he could feel it through the T-shirt I wore.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, the presence of his lips on my neck sent a shiver down my skin. His palm flattened. Starting at his elbow, shaking fingers of my own traced up his arm. The tips of my fingers tickled through the fine curly hair of his forearm and came to rest over the back of his hand. He spread his fingers and I slipped mine between his. Clutching our fingers together, he tugged me even tighter into the embrace. A tear slipped from my eye and crept down my nose. It itched, but I didn’t dare release his fingers, fisted with mine over my heart.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered once more.