IT’S AS IF THE SEAL was broken last night. East’s affection flows freely over the entire night and today. If I thought for a moment he didn’t want me like that, he’s doing his absolute best to convince me otherwise. For my part, I feel more relaxed than I have in ages. All that sexual tension has an outlet and if it were up to me, we would never leave the shelter.
It’s scary how content I feel with so little. I’m happy here and I feel guilty every morning I wake up refreshed and every night I go to sleep with a smile on my face. I’d like to believe East thinks it’s from the orgasms; if he doesn’t, he won’t say. I’m guilt-ridden enough as it is without sharing these thoughts.
East still looks for ways off the island and has his eyes on the sky more often than not. He’s the only reason I wish for us to be rescued. But I know that’s as far as this goes. He has an entire family, a life on the other side of the country. Just because we’ve fuc—
“What are you thinking about so hard over there? You haven’t touched your food,” East interrupts my thoughts.
A blush steals over my face and I lower my head to hide, shame eating away at me. “Nothing.”
East leans over and kisses my neck. “I bet I can guess.”
My breath catches in my throat and I lower my leaf before getting up. “I’m going to get more water.”
East’s eyes track my movements intently. “What’s wrong?”
Chill the hell out, Taylor; you’re freaking him out.
I shake my head and lean down to kiss him, pouring all my turmoil into it. He responds eagerly, hands sinking into my hair to pull me onto his lap, but I stand up.
“I’ll be back,” I tell him, grabbing the pot.
“Ok,” he says hesitantly.
The normal trek to the river takes almost twice as long as it usually does. I may be dragging my feet. Cursing under my breath, I walk along the path through the tall grass now clearly marked from our many trips. My feet find the safe places to step without me having to look first. Everything that was once foreign is home to me now and it’s killing me because I love him.
“You didn’t have to make things so awkward,” I berate myself.
I need to tell him what I’m feeling. He won’t be mad; we’ve been here so long of course I’d get used to it. It’s not like I’m sabotaging things in order to stay.
I’m constantly gathering twice as much wood as normal in order to feed both our campfire and that pyre monstrosity on the beach. I listen to him at night, making plans for all the things he, Henry, and Carter will do when he returns. Then I cry silently after he’s asleep at the fact my name is never mentioned in his future plans.
It’s crazy to think we would have a future off this island. Everything’s different in this bubble. We never would have met if we both weren’t on that yacht.
Some might call that fate, Taylor.
I snort at that. “More like a happy accident.”
The rocks become smoother under my feet, the trees more lush, and I round the bend, clearing the tall grass—and there’s the river. Who would want to leave this? It’s so beautiful here.
I’m leaning over, scooping water into our pot, when I hear a whooshing sound. Standing up, I close my eyes to listen harder. It sounds like it’s coming from the south. Turning towards it, I shade my eyes and try to see what’s making the sound.
When it crests over the trees, the pot falls uselessly to the ground, spilling water everywhere. I’m frozen in disbelief before I mentally shake it off and turn to run back to the beach.
“East!” I scream anyway, knowing he can’t hear me, but maybe he can hear the helicopter. I wave my hands over my head, screaming East’s name as I run, trying to get the helicopter’s attention.
In my haste, I trip over a branch and fall to the ground, hitting it hard enough to stun me.
“No!” I sob when the helicopter disappears from my sight. I pull myself back up and take off running, now at a limp. I reopened the cut on my leg and my shoulder throbs where I landed on it.
I run as fast as I can, my breathing coming out in desperate gasps as my lungs work harder than they have before. I’m so fucking far away. Please, East, see it coming. Use the last flare.
Please, God, please!
A whistle sounds and I see the red glare fly above the tree line. I skid to a halt, wincing as my threadbare shoes offer no protection against the ground, and hold my breath. My nails dig into the meat of my palm and I pray, something I’ve found consistently useless in my life.
And it’s useless now.
The glare sinks back down, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. The buzz of the helicopter propellers fades away the further it distances itself from us. How? How did our last flare go unnoticed? How did they not see the sign on the beach?
My stiff fingers unfurl and I hold my breath to fight the scream ready to rip out of my throat. I shove it all the way down, turning around to pick up the pot I dropped in my desperation. I cling to the numbness and return to fill our pot. If this defeat is weighing me down, I can’t imagine East right now.
I take my time returning to camp. There’s no rush. A hysterical giggle erupts from my throat and I close my mouth, biting my lips to prevent another. It really wouldn’t do to start laughing to myself. People will think you’re nuts, Taylor.
“I mean, look at everyone, Taylor!” I yell, furious tears running down my dusty face.
No one is ever going to find us. No one. This is it. It’s just us and the sandflies. After…after last night, I thought maybe.
Maybe!
So stupid.
My feet sink into the sand and my muscles burn as I head back. Dusk is already rushing towards us and I can see the flicker of our fire in the distance. Get it together, girl. If you’re mad, he’s furious. After all, he actually has something to go back to.
I return to our camp and find it empty. Groaning, I set the water on the fire and go to our collection of firewood to put another handful of sticks on.
“East?” I call out, but the sound of waves and the chirp of insects are my only answer.
I push back the makeshift door of our tarp and find the shelter empty. Stomach growling, I throw some clams from our stash onto the fire.
Hours pass, the clams are long gone, the sun is hiding behind the horizon, but I stay up. Waiting for him. I’m way past the point of concern and firmly in worried territory. I don’t go looking for him because I can’t see anything anyway; he took the fucking flashlight. I thought about making a torch, but everything would burn too quickly or is something we need too much to burn.
My head rests in my hands and I lightly scratch my scalp, beyond exhausted. I doze in this position, knees bent, elbows on knees and head in hands when I hear rustling behind me. Tensing, I decide to stay where I am. Let him come to me.
I can feel him when he enters our camp; it’s like this strange awareness of everything around me, but mostly I become hyperaware of myself. Wondering what he sees, what he’s thinking. If I didn’t hear him moments before, I’d still know the second he was near.
“Taylor,” he says quietly above me.
I stay still. I’m afraid to look at him. I don’t want him to see the loss of hope on my face, but mostly I don’t want to see it on his. He’s always maintained his belief that we would be found. It is only a matter of time. That’s what he always said. But someone flew right the hell over us, with all our attempts to draw attention and they didn’t see. They didn’t see. We’re invisible. No one knows we’re here; it’s been so long everyone probably thinks we’re dead.
This is it.
This is it for us. All we have until our bodies give up. How long can we live off small shellfish and fruit? It’s not enough; it’s not enough—
“Look at me,” he says urgently.
I gasp a breath and turn to look at him; he’s crouched down beside me, hands resting between his knees. The look on his face is wretched torment. My eyes burn with unshed tears, but I maintain eye contact. His eyes are glassy, red, and full of pain.
“They flew right over us, East,” I whisper, “right over us.”
“I wasn’t fast enough with the flare. I was taking a nap, waiting for you. I wasn’t fast enough—”
“Stop,” I interrupt, grabbing his hand.
“Next time,” he says in a rush, “next time I won’t screw up. I’ll be faster.”
“We don’t have any more flares!” I rip my hand from his and stand up. East mirrors my movements warily. “There won’t be a next time, don’t you get it?”
His face crumples, but Easton rallies. It’s like watching a war go on inside him. He moves closer but doesn’t touch me. “You cannot give up. You are not allowed to give up.”
“It’s over!” I yell, shoving him away from me, but he’s right back in my face.
“No, it’s not!” he growls in my face.
“Easton, give it up!”
He pulls me to him, mouth pressed to my ear. “You don’t give up until you’re dead. We are not done yet.”
Our breaths echo loudly into the night as we glare at one another. I don’t know why I’m so mad. I expected him to be beaten, was ready for it. Ready for the devastation. He’s upset, sure, sad and mad at the lost opportunity.
When he doesn’t back down, I fall into his arms. He’s like this wall of strength and I just take and take. He allows it. He almost begs me to lean on him, so when I finally do he pulls me into his arms so he surrounds every part of my body.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize softly, embarrassed by my anger.
“Don’t be sorry. You’re justified to feel this way.”
“How do you keep going? How do you never stop hoping?” I whisper brokenly.
East tightens his arms around me. “I have no choice, my family—”
I pull away, turning my back to him. Of course. It’s easy to keep fighting when you have something to fight for. It’s also easy to give up when you don’t. East rests his chin on the crown of my head and pulls me back to him. “You’re not alone, Taylor. Not anymore. You have me.”
For how long? I wonder, sinking into him again.