Page 54 of Stranded

I chuckle as my eyes catch on Bower and Zee heading towards us from down the beach. “Here they come.”

We watch them approach, their joined hands swinging back and forth between them as Zee laughs at something Bower says.

I love seeing her like this. Relaxed, happy and enjoying our company. She’d probably be fine living here with us for the rest of our lives. I justhope that doesn’t happen. As enjoyable as she’s making what should be the worst weeks of our lives, we had to get home. My mom and sister are back in the states, along with Reece and our company. I had a life there waiting for me, for us.

“Hope you guys are in the mood for some pears,” Bower says as they approach, holding up his bag and giving it a little shake.

“Where’s Mo-Mo?” I ask, since he normally joins us for breakfast.

“The little bugger already took a few from us on the way here and took off,” Zee says with a roll of her eyes before she drops down in the sand on her knees in front of me, sitting back on her feet.

Bower passes us each a pear and West pulls out his knife to start cutting his up. “Here, you can use McStabby.” I look up to see Zee offering me her beloved knife.

“Really?” I ask, my eyes wide in shock. She just nods, and I tentatively reach out and take the offered handle. I expect her to watch me carefully, but instead she turns to watch West cut a slice from his own pear. He holds it out to her, and she gives him a warm smile, taking the offered piece and nibbling on it as she watches him cut another one.

Her attention on him makes my stomach clench with nerves. Would she choose West over me?

I focus on what I’m doing and take a moment to properly assess her knife, since I’ve never held it before. It definitely isn’t handmade, and it has seen better days. The handle is well worn, and the blade is blunt. I run my thumb across the blade and it does nothing to my skin.

“I think I can sharpen this for you,” I say, turning it side to side to take it in.

“Really? I tried using Steve, but it didn’t seem to do anything.”

I shake my head. “No, I believe you need to use a finer-grained rock that’s wet. Like something found in the pond.”

“Oh, how do you know all that?”

I shrug as I reply, “I like to read. A lot is useless, some is helpful.”

“What else you been hiding from us, King?” West asks with a raised eyebrow before he bites into a slice of pear.

“I haven’t really had to rely on my knowledge since we’ve been here, since Zee is the island expert.”

We all glance over at her as Bower asks. “Well, Zee? Anything you need that you haven’t been able to figure out for yourself yet?”

“I don’t suppose you know how to make underwear? It’s been years since I’ve had any.”

I swallow heavily, my eyes darting down to where the short skirt is barely covering her. Does she mean to tell me that she isn’t wearing anything under there? I mean, I caught sight of the bottom of her bare ass weeks ago, when she was wearing my shirt, but I assumed she had some, somewhere. Given that her top and skirt are clearly island made, I’m not sure why it didn’t occur to me to think about her undergarments too.

Nobody says anything as we all stare at her, the tension growing thicker by the second.

“What happened to the clothes you arrived here in?” Bower asks as he tries, and fails, to stop looking at her thighs.

“They’re long gone,” she says so quietly, I almost don’t hear her over the sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shore.

I finally tear my gaze away from her legs to look at her face. Her eyes are filled with pain and her skin’s turned pale.

“Zee? What is it?” I ask in worry.

She quickly jumps to her feet and takes a step away from us. “Nothing, I just need to get some air. I mean…” she trails off, her panicked eyes bouncing between us as we all get to our feet. “I need a bath, I’m going to the waterfall, don’t follow me, please.”

She turns on her heels and practically starts running back through the jungle.

“Zee! Wait!” Bower asks, but it’s too late, she’s long gone. “Fuck! What did I say?” he asks as he tries to run his hand through his hair, but it gets stuck in his bun, so he pulls it loose.

“I’m not sure,” West says, frowning in her direction. “We really need to get her to open up to us. Her way of coping is not healthy.”

“Maybe not, but it’s all she knows. And it’s kept her alive this long,” I tell him as I scratch my chin, my beard getting longer each day.

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