Page 79 of Obsession Under the Southern Stars

“My legs are cold,” she murmurs.

“Put them between mine.”

She does, and I tuck the blanket around them. She feels warmer in the hoodie, but I make sure the blanket covers her back, too.

“You’re so warm,” she whispers.

“Like I said, lots of body heat. I have my own inner furnace.”

“Mmm.” She nuzzles my neck. “How do you still smell so nice?”

“Skill.”

She chuckles, then jumps as lightning temporarily lights up the room through the cracks in the shutters. Thunder crashes overhead a few seconds later, loud enough to make the windows rattle in their frames. “Jesus,” she mumbles.

I tighten my arms. “It’s all right. We’re safe here.”

“I don’t know if I can sleep.”

“It’s okay. We’ll just lie here a bit and rest.”

She sighs, tucking her head back into my neck.

Gradually, the light through the shutters grows darker as night sets in. Although Zoe’s breathing grows more even, I know she’s not quite asleep because she stirs whenever there’s a loud crack of thunder. It feels as if the storm is going to go on until the end of time.

But of course, nothing lasts forever. Time ticks by, and while I lie there and count the time between each flash of lightning and answering roll of thunder, it begins to increase—three seconds, four, five. Now not every streak of lightning is accompanied by thunder, and when it does come, it’s not quite as loud. The storm is moving away.

Zoe has been still for a while. Her breathing is regular and deep. I think she’s finally fallen asleep.

I stroke her back lightly in the semi-darkness. The firelight makes the shadows on the wall dance. The room is pleasantly warm, and Zoe’s legs and hands are warmer too, beneath the thermal blanket.

I think about being on board the boat, and how frightening it was as we sailed so close to the Black Rocks. It was even more terrifying when we jumped—or in Zoe’s case, fell—into the ocean and had to swim to shore. There were several moments when I didn’t think we were going to make it. I think about when I tore my leg on the reef—the pain was sharp and severe, and for a horrible moment I thought I’d done some serious damage. As it happened, it wasn’t too bad, but I will get it checked out tomorrow.

I hope the walk to the houses isn’t too far, and that somebody’s home. Maybe we’ll get a phone signal, as well. I don’t know if anybody has missed us. It’s possible someone’s noticed that the boat hasn’t returned, although they’d probably assume we’d just moored up on one of the islands. I doubt anyone has spotted the deserted Codfather out by the Black Rocks. Maybe it has already sunk. I feel a twist of regret, along with a stab of guilt. The insurance will cover it, no doubt, but it was a nifty little boat, and it’s a shame to have lost it.

I think about it landing on the rocks and splintering, the broken pieces drifting down to where the Relentless lies on the reef. If I was a boat, I’d like to end up as a wreck. It seemsappropriate. Maybe when I die, I should ask to be buried at sea, or for my ashes to be scattered on the water.

My mind fills with the sensation of the cool, green water closing over my head. I don’t feel fear at the thought the same way other people do. I find it oddly comforting, the notion of becoming a part of the ocean, joining the fishes and the wrecks on the seabed.

But I don’t want Zoe to end up down there. I’m so glad I got her to safety.

I tighten my arms a fraction more, close my eyes, and let sleep take me.

Chapter Eighteen

Zoe

A huge crash of thunder jerks me awake.

I blink, confused for a moment as to where I am. When I stir, I discover I’m pressed up close to someone, wrapped up in their arms. For a second I think it’s Charles, but he wasn’t a cuddler in bed. Thunder crashes again, and this time my memory comes flooding back. The boat. The storm. Joel.

“Shhh,” he says, stroking my back. “It’s okay.”

I move back a little and look up at him. The light from the embers of the fire can just reach us here in the bunk, and it paints the planes of his face with a deep orange.

“I thought the storm was going away,” I whisper.

“It’s circling. It’s been building again for the past fifteen minutes or so.”

---