Page 51 of Stranded

Eventually, he sets me down. He no longer looks frustrated, now, a completely different look covers his face. Something deeper, moreintense. Something that makes my own body heat with awareness at his close proximity to me.

Bower claps his hands once, making me jump in surprise. “Okay, so what’s on the agenda for today? You want to show us where some of the other fruit is?”

“Yeah, sure. I can do that,” I say, nodding my head like a stupid bobble head toy. “Let me just seal this up.” I turn back to the mattress and use the small vines I had brought with me to sew it closed.

The guys are silent as I work, and when I glance over my shoulder at them, they are exchanging looks with one enough that I can’t decipher. It’s like they are having an entire conversation in silence.

“Okay, all done.” I stand up and gather all my supplies.

“How’d you learn to do that?” Kingsley asks, looking down at the mattress.

“Trial and error, mostly.”

They follow me as I return my supplies to the other hut, asking me questions the entire time. In all honesty, I don’t mind. Talking about this stuff doesn’t bring bad memories, and it’s nice to have an actual two-sided conversation for once in my life.

We spend most of the day with me showing them the best places to get fruit, and pointing out things to look out for on the island.

As the day goes on, I start to feel more relaxed around them. Ever since I hugged them all this morning, it feels like we’ve broken down one of the invisible barriers between us. I notice them standing closer to me than they did before, like they’re no longer worried they will scare me off.

Whenever Kingsley walks beside me, he instinctively seems to reach for my hand. I don’t say anything, but secretly, I love it. It’s been a long time since I held anyone's hand and the action makes me feel like he wants to keep me close.

Throughout the day, they make sure one of them checks the beach for signs of a boat whenever possible. Each time, the thought of rescue makes my stomach twist. I’m not sure how to tell them that I can’t leave this island. So instead, I decide to enjoy their company while it lasts.

That evening, while we sit around eating dinner, I decide I want to know more about them. Kingsley already told me about the company he owns with Bower, so I turn my gaze to Weston.

“Weston?”

“Hmm?” he asks, chewing a piece of jerky as he turns his hazel eyes to me.

“What does the tattoo on your arm mean?” His eyes flick down to his bicep, swallowing his mouthful of jerky.

“It’s a compass, it represents my time in the Marines.” He pulls up his sleeve so I can see it fully.

“The Marines? Like, the army?” I ask, trying to remember what I knew about them.

“It’s a military branch, yeah. I was a pilot with them for ten years.”

“Was? You’re not anymore?”

He shakes his head, his eyes dropping to his hands. “No, not for a few years. I’m a private pilot now. I have my own plane…Hadmy ownplane,” he corrects himself, his eyes flicking to the other two before they drop again. “Sometimes I fly cargo, and sometimes people… like these two idiots.” He jerks his head in their direction, but they both just smirk at him.

“Wait—were you flying the plane that crashed?” I ask in shock. For some reason, I had assumed the pilot hadn’t made it, and these three were all passengers, just like my crash.

He nods his head without lifting his eyes.

I frown, my gaze darting to Kingsley who looks at him and sighs.

“It wasn’t his fault. There was an explosion, he was lucky he didn’t get injured, but it took out all the systems.”

“How—How did you guys get separated?” I ask curiously. I’d wondered why they’d arrived in two different rafts on two different days, but at the time I was too preoccupied to ask.

Nobody answers and I glance around, realizing I’ve said something wrong.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t like to talk about it either.”

I feel three sets of eyes on me as I stare down at my dirty feet, feeling dumb for bringing up this topic.

“Zee…” Kingsley says softly.Too softly.If I so much as look at him, and see his kind blue eyes staring at me, I’m likely to break, and I wasn’t ready to talk about the crash yet, because then I’d have to talk about him. My dad.

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