Page 70 of Chasing Paradise

I took the old gauze from her and handed her the glue instead.

“Alright. Well, if this requires some major cosmetic surgery in the future, you can’t blame me.”

“I heard somewhere that girls think scars are hot.”

“Depends on how you got them. Tripping and falling on your face…” she trailed off, smile teasing. “The graze might be considered kind of sexy, though. Okay. I think that’s all set.”

I packed my kit away, then reached for a bottle of water. We each drank half, wanting to conserve as much as possible. At least until we got to a water source where we could use my squeezable hollow membrane filters and get our fill.

“You ready?” I asked, waving out toward the jungle.

“God, no. Everything hurts.”

Reaching down, I took her hand.

I gave it a squeeze.

“Just think of all the coffee and tacos you will get after all this is done.”

“You’re paying.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Violet

I will admit that I was a bit of a world-class complainer at times. I had very thin patience for discomfort. It was why I was so intolerable when I was sick.

All that being said, I’d never been as miserable as I was as we trekked endlessly through the jungle following the bridge collapse.

My arms were throbbing in pain from hauling myself up to the ground. And as we walked, my leg muscles joined in on the pain.

The blisters on my feet made every step feel like stepping on rusty nails. I wouldn’t exactly be surprised if when I took my shoes off later, they were full of blood.

I was about ready to seek out some killer animal or insect and beg them to put me out of my misery when Wick suddenly stopped walking to lean back on a tree and let out a loud “Fuck!”

“You took the word right out of my mouth,” I agreed, dropping down on my ass near his feet.

All my muscles pulsed in pain as I rested, making me whimper and rock back and forth.

“We’re not getting out of here tonight, duchess.” Wick’s voice was strained and apologetic. Like I could possibly blame him for not knowing his way around one-point-fourbillionacres.

“I kind of figured that.” I slipped my foot out of my shoe with a knot in my stomach, afraid to look at the damage.

“How bad are they?” Wick asked.

“They’re not great. These weren’t exactly hiking shoes.”

“Mine are, and I still feel like I have hot coals in my shoes. Do you have any open wounds?”

“No. I think if we stop now, I can prevent the blisters from busting open.”

“I don’t think I could go another acre if I tried. I stopped here because I saw both guava and bananas around. Though, I wish I could have gotten us a water source.”

Some time a couple hours before, we lost the sound of the river running between the cliffs. When we’d opted to move out to check, we found that the ground had connected again. Not that we could have gotten down to the river anyway.

“I’m gonna need you to eat a shit ton of guava to make sure you don’t get dehydrated.”

“That won’t be a problem.” I actually, for once in my life, wasn’t really even hungry. I was too exhausted—body, mind, soul—to think about food. But I was dying of thirst. My mouth watered at the idea of a juicy piece of fruit.

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