Page 66 of Adrift

For a moment, I thought I was going to get all the answers. I didn’t expect to be left with far more questions.

Isn’t it enough that I love him? Doesn’t he love me back? I thought… I thought for sure he does. Have I been even more of a naive fool than I thought?

“Jesus,” I breathe out, leaning over to the end table nearest me. I pull open the little drawer to fish out the pocket knife that fits perfectly in my palm. Then, I balance the delicate ring of apple wood in my palm.

I’ve been whittling this in secret over the last few days, stealing the moments I can during breaks and while Kieran’s atwork. I didn’t know if it would be an engagement ring, or athis totally isn’t an engagement ring because it’s too soon but it’s a promise that I want to get engaged to youring.

But I wanted to finish it by tomorrow, and now… I don’t know if there’s any point. I sigh, weighing it up in my palm as I stare down at it.

“Maybe I should have led with this.”

What the hell am I going to do?

Chapter

Twenty-Four

KIERAN

“God,”I yawn for what feels like the hundredth time, clutching my coffee to my chest as I plod along the gravel road.

I’ve had mornings where I looked hotter, I’ll say that for nothing.

My festival outfit was already picked out a week ago, thank god. I’m wearing a bright blue silk shirt and sturdy denim shorts, white high-tops, and a cute little belt to pull it all together.

If I dress up nice enough, people might not notice my face.

I feel like I’m walking to the gallows. But I promised Gage that I’d be there by ten to help him set up, so by god, am I going to be there.

Even if that promise was made before the horror show that was last night. And even if I stayed up until four AM playing sad 80s love ballads—which I’d never dream of admitting.

Then the gravel crunches from behind me, and I automatically veer for the side of the road. But the approaching golf cart slows down and pulls up alongside me.

There’s no mistaking the replica ’57 Chevy body, with turquoise seats and a fold-down roof. Only one person on the island has the money, the interest in classic cars, and the sense of humour needed to get that custom-made.

It’s Carter. Next to him, Felix has one arm around his shoulders. He’s sliding over on the bench to make room for me.

“Need a ride? We can fit another little one,” Felix beams at me.

I can’t help a little smile back at him. I know enough not to turn him down. I’ve spent enough time alone and miserable and walking the gravel roads in the last twelve hours.

And, one way or another, today is going to be a long-ass day.

“Thank you,” I tell them as I clamber up into it and settle myself down.

“No problem,” Carter tells me as we roll forward again. “I’ll drop you two off at the orchard and park up at the lighthouse.”

Felix pretends to swoon, bumping his forehead against Carter’s shoulder. “What a gentleman. It makes a nice change, doesn’t it?” he beams at me.

Ouch.

They haven’t heard the news, then. Why does everyone hear everything, except the stuff I don’t wanna say out loud?

Even as my gut sinks, I manage a smile and a nod. “You know it,” I tell him automatically.

Do I tell them? Maybe I should… it’ll be obvious when we see each other, right?

Then Felix leans so far over Carter that he blocks his view. “Look!” He points at the poster on the fence of the community garden—another ad for the festival. “It’s your face!”

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