Page 7 of Leave Before I Love You
“You think I don’t know that?” I shout back, rising up on my toes to get even more in his space. Tears stream down my cheeks unchecked. “You think I don’tknowthat none of this shit matters? I’m standing here topless, on a beach in the literal middle of nowhere, Henry, in One. Fucking. Shoe! I know a man is dead. Iknow.” Myvoice shakes. “But I am coping the only way I know how! I amtryingto cope!”
He runs an angry hand through his hair and spins in a circle, his movements jerky and agitated, as I struggle to get my violent breaths under control.
Oh my God. Oh myGod. Our planecrashed. Our pilotdied.And we don’t know where we fucking are.No onedoes.
Henry squats briefly before jumping to standing, an ungodly scream of the mightiest proportions breaking the sound barrier around us and rending the air.
His chest heaves as he stares at the ocean again for a singular long moment, and then he turns back to me, his eyes a mask of calm I wish desperately I felt myself.
“Come here.” He steps forward quickly and pulls me into a bone-mending hug, his tight grip on my head pushing it deep into his wet chest. It’s shocking and nearly breakdown-inducing, and I hold on as tight as my tired arms will let me, a sob bucking my entire body.
“Shh,” he comforts, the soft warmth of his breath on the shell of my ear. “It’s okay. We’re safe. We’re together. And I’m going to figure out what we need to do, okay? I promise, I’m going to figure out what we need to do.”
I don’t know why, but I believe him. Maybe it’s the way he handled it all when it started to go wrong, or how he took control in the water when I started to get tired, or how he pulled himself together just now in the face of everything saying he shouldn’t, but Ibelievethat Henry will figure out what we need to do.
Flashbacks of only a couple of short hours ago in the hangar in Miami taunt me as I try to make sense of how in the hell I’ve found myself in this situation. I almost didn’t come. I almost stayed home, and the only reason I didn’t is because I thought I might bebored.
Fucking bored. How naïve of me to think that was theworst possible outcomefor the first few days of this brand-new year.
I startle myself with a laugh as Henry releases me slowly,working through the stupidity with which I packed my dumb waist pack.
Bikinis?I should have brought a survival knife.
Oh, but I have my hairbrush!I snort. I’m sure it’ll be super important that I look good while we’re trapped here for God only knows how long.
Clean teeth?I’ll have them. Oh, and fresh-smelling pits too—
“Holy shit!” I shriek as realization dawns on me, pulling free of Henry’s arms and frantically scraping at the buckle on my waist pack until I can get it open.
“What? What is it?”
“My phone! I put my phone in here before we left!”
Henry pats wildly at the cargo pockets of his pants before frowning. “I forgot mine. Or lost it in the water or something, I guess. Doesn’t fucking matter. Bottom line, I don’t have it.”
“I have mine!” I shout again, finding it quickly and pulling it free from my bikinis as they spill out onto the sand at my feet. “I have it!”
Henry reaches out and grabs it from me when I tuck it to my chest, and I yank it back. We repeat the motion two more times before I narrow my eyes at him. “Hey! That’s mine.”
“Avery, for fuck’s sake, just look at the screen, please.” Henry sighs, letting go of my phone. “Do you have service?”
Properly chastised, I click anxiously at the screen until it comes to life, and I watch as the bars in the top right of the display dance, trying to find a signal. I shield my phone from the sun to make sure I’m seeing it right and then take off at a run with it held out in front of me. I go down the beach and then back to the other side and then up into the palm-tree-lined brush. I jump in the air and spin in circles, and Henry watches silently from the spot I left him the whole time, a stoic expression on his handsome face.
The bars dance and dance and dance…
And then, they stop dancing altogether.
No service. No connection.Nothing.
Panic crashes over me, and I sink to the sand, phone limp in my hands. My breath shudders, and a sob racks my chest.
“It’s okay, Ave.” Henry’s voice is soft, closer than before. His hand settles on my back, warm and steady in a way I wish I felt. “We’ll figure out another way.”
I believe him.
But God, I wish I didn’t have to.
I wish I were at home, in my dry bed, dreaming about designer clothes and Starbucks and nail appointments and the girl I used to be.
