Page 57 of Wild for You
I take that as an apology accepted, so I continue. “This is just the beginning of the storm season, so there’s no point rebuilding the campsite. It’ll just be ruined again in a matter of days—”
“That doesn’t sound like a solution, Jack—”
“Hold on.” I hold my hands up. “Let me finish, ok?”
She nods her head, and I continue, “Water is our main concern, right? So, since we don’t have the stream anymore, you’ll have to collect your own water from the rain and morning dew each day. I think I’ve figured out a way to make a funnel with the palm leaves, and we’ll dig a well to collect it when it rains.”
“Okay, that sounds easy enough. See, I knew you’d think of a solution outside the box.” Her voice sounds hopeful.
“You’ll have to rebuild the funnel after every storm, so we’ll have to practice setting it up. I need to know that you can do this on your own—”
“Why would I need to be on my own?” she asks, but deep down, we both know the answer.
“Because I’m leaving to find help first thing in the morning.” I pause to let it sink in. “I’ll leave the rod behind with you so you can catch and cook fish when it’s dry. I’ll take most of the dried fish with me on the raft since I can’t make a fire. It’s the only shot we have at making it out of here alive.”
She presses her lips together and nods as a silent understanding passes between us. “Then I guess you need to show me how to build that funnel.”
“Yeah. We don’t have much daylight left.” There’s so much left unsaid, but I don’t think either one of us can handle thinking of saying goodbye so soon or what our future could hold. So I grit my teeth and lead the way.
Spending our last day together digging a well wasn’t exactly the romantic goodbye I envisioned, but I’m not really sure I believed we’d ever have to make a decision like this. I think a part of me always thought we’d live out the rest of our lives on this island in peace, no matter how long that actually was.
“Come on. I’ll show you the spot I have in mind.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Gwen
My back aches,my hands are bloody, and I’m exhausted from digging a giant hole in the ground to store my water. This may come as a surprise, but manual labor isn’t exactly my strong suit.
We spent all night digging the well and preparing the rain funnels, and I’m mentally and physically drained. Every muscle in my body is on fire, but I know this is the only way I’ll survive until Jack can find help. I caught a couple of hours of sleep before sunrise, mainly because Jack took one look at my emaciated body, a far cry from where it was when we crash landed on this island, and demanded I get some rest.
Since the shelter was destroyed and Jack is convinced this is only the beginning of the storm season, I’ve been ordered to sleep in the godforsaken cavern tucked away in the side of the cliff. As I roll to my side, squeezing my eyes closed as if I can fend off the sunrise by choosing not to see it, my back cracks against the hard rock. If I thought sleeping on the scratchy sand was uncomfortable, this is a whole new level of hell.
If we survive this, I promise never to complain about my mattress being too firm ever again.
The chirping birds are wild this morning, acting as mother nature’s alarm clock.
“Ugh, ok, fine. I’m awake! Are you happy, you fucking birds!?” I make a mental note to attempt to spear a bird for dinner tonight. It’s the only revenge that’ll make me feel the tiniest bit better about my current circumstances.
I army crawl out of my shit-hole new shelter and squint my eyes as they adjust to the offensively bright sun. That’s weird. I look around for a tree and notice the shadow’s on the wrong side. That means it’s at least nine in the morning. Why didn’t Jack wake me sooner?
I stand up, stretching my back as best as my stomach grumbles its dissatisfaction. Yeah, yeah. With all the intense physical labor last night, we didn’t exactly have time to eat a proper meal. Grabbing a single coconut from my small collection, I strike it against a rock and begin eating my breakfast. It’s not much, but the sweet flavor has my mouth watering for more, and when I’m finished, it takes all my strength not to break out another one from my emergency stash. It’s so quiet this morning—with the exception of the squawking birds. I wonder where Jack’s run off to.
I head toward the beach and see him working on his boat in the distance. He’s hunched over, probably double-checking his knots, and I notice he’s added my long swim coverup as a sail. Dammit, that was Chanel, and now it’s being used as a boat sail. My past self would’ve died if she’d seen this treachery, but I smile as I watch him.
His strong back is more defined than ever, though it’s more of starvation and dehydration sculpted. The kind of definition men think women like when we would really rather have a little meat on the bone. I glance at my boney hips, then turn to examine my almost non-existent ass. I suppose I can’t really talk about Jack being too thin when I’m smaller than I’ve ever been in my life. For a moment, my vanity gets the best of me, and I mourn my old, healthy self as I try to pinch the nonexistent fat on my stomach. It’ll all be worth it. I tell myself. When we get out of here, I’ll eat all the carbs and gain back the weight. I’ll be strong and healthy, and I’ll never look at the flesh on my stomach and think I’m too heavy ever again. I’ll eat dessert with every meal and … fuck …my stomach cries out in hunger again. I’ve got to stop lusting over food. It’s not helpful right now.
I shake the thought away, reminding myself to use that determination later tonight to hunt the squawking bird that still won’t shut up …afterJack leaves.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” I say as I come into earshot of the beach. He’s fooling with his sail now, and I can see he’s just about packed up and ready to leave.
“You needed the rest.” He pulls me to him, planting a long soft kiss on my forehead, and I breathe in his masculine scent. God, he smells good. I know it’s weird to say that someone who hasn’t properly bathed in two months smells good, but I’m addicted to everything about this man. I don’t know how I’ll survive without his warmth, his goofy jokes, and overall chipper attitude balancing out my bitchiness.
“Why do you have to leave today?” I whine, gripping him into a tighter hug.
“You know why.” His voice is stern, and he squeezes me tighter. “You’ve got everything you need here. Luckily, all the downed trees made it easy for me to repair the raft.” He cracks his neck, and I know as sore as I may feel, Jack must be ten times more exhausted. He stayed up all night, and now, he’s about to set sail out into the middle of the ocean.
I swallow the lump in my throat. This whole situation is crazy. But we both know it’s our only hope. There’s no other choice. I just have to trust that he’ll make it out alive, that he’ll find help. I squeeze my eyes closed, savoring the feel of his warm hard body against mine, and say a silent prayer it won’t take very long.
