Page 47 of Wrecked
“I’m going to spend the rest of the night showing you exactlywhat those words just did to me. What they mean to me. So, if anybody made a mistake…it was you, baby.”
CHAPTER 24
ELLIE (PRESENT)
Isit silently on the coastline, drifting in and out of my thoughts as I stare off into the horizon. The black veil of smoke has faded as the evidence of our crash disappears into the depths of the ocean. My hope of survival, of rescue…descends with it.
My body sinks into the wet sand beneath me as the tide rises further up the shore. The briny liquid wraps itself around me, attempting to tug me from the gritty terrain. I’m tempted to let it sweep me away.
Nate sits at my side, granting me the silence needed to process the gravity of our situation. Our pilot lost communication with air traffic control towers an hour before we crashed. He turned around, taking us off the expected route. We crashed into the ocean, miles away from the secluded beach we are now sitting on.
We are the only survivors.
We are alone on an island without resources. An island that is likely inhabited by large predators that would love to make us their next meal.
No one knows where we are.
Hearing it play out like that in my mind is horrifying. The facts leave little hope for rescue. My sister is going to be devastated. She’s going to blame herself. She was supposed to be on that flight with me. Not Nate.
The sun is beginning to set in the distance. Soon, darkness will cover the beach, making us vulnerable to the elements and fair game for late night hunters. Easy prey, that’s what we will be. My thoughts are running wild with all the possible ways we can die.
Personally, I’m hoping for a poisonous spider bite.
That sounds a lot more…comfortable than starving to death or being eaten by a panther. Are there panthers in the Amazon? Are weinthe Amazon? How close were we to Brazil before we crashed? If this is the rainforest, how often does it rain? Should we be worried about the potential for hypothermia?
I’m spiraling, my mind racing with all those unanswered questions. Nate reaches for my hand and gently glides his thumb back and forth across my knuckles.
I relax instantly.
His gaze remains focused on the open ocean as if he simply sensed my rising panic. The same way we used to be able to feel when the other was nearby. When the other was hurt or in trouble. I guess that never really stopped.
I look down at our joined hands, the way his thumb makes calming circles over my skin. His ability to comfort me grates on my nerves. Why did he save me for…this? Why didn’t he just let me die?
“You’re mad at me.” I jolt as his words cut through my thoughts, his voice reverberating like a freight train after several minutes of peaceful silence. He can read me so easily, and that adds fuel to the inferno already burning inside of me.
“I’m… Yeah, I am. I’m trying not to be, but I am.”
“I wasn’t going to let you die, Pip. Don’t ask me to defend that.” Frustration seeps into his tone, invigorating mine.
“So what?” I ask, my voice rising. “We die here, instead? I was out cold, Nate! I could have gone down with the plane and felt nothing! Instead, I am stuck on this fucking island where…where I’m likely going to be forced to watchyoudie. Probably horrifically. Because I know you, and I know you’ll protect me with your last breath. But then what?! I wait my turn? Alone and in pain from the loss of you? So yeah, Nate…Iamgoing to ask you to defend your decision to save me!”
My chest heaves, my eyes water, and I need…I need to hit something. I shoot up from my sitting position in the sand and stalk over to the nearest palm tree. I pull my arm back, making sure I have enough momentum for my swing. I need this to hurt. But just as my fist is about to connect with the bark, a hand grasps my wrist, prohibiting the agony I’m craving so badly.
“Stop.” His demand is laced with fury, his typical calm demeanor replaced by a cold gaze.
“Fuck you,” I spit back. I know I’m being unreasonable. I know my reaction to our situation is not helpful. But I’ve never been this scared in my life, and I need todosomething. Even if that “something” is destroying my knuckles. The need to distract myself from the terror consuming me outweighs all common sense at the moment.
Nate uses his grip on my wrist to turn my body. He walks me backwards, until my spine is lined up against the tree, effectively trapping me. “You want to hit something? Hit me. But don’t break your fucking hand because you’re pissed and scared!” his voice positively thunders. I freeze, my eyes connecting with his as shock overwhelms me. He’s never raised his voice at me before. Hearing him lose control like this drains the fight out of me.
I’m not the only person trapped on this island. If Nate didn’t save me, would he be here alone? Would he have let himself go down with the plane? Both outcomes are incomprehensible.
I take in his appearance for the first time since we made it to the beach. He’s bruised and battered, blood dripping from several cuts lining his arms and legs. He went through hell on earth to get me off that plane alive, and I am punishing him for it. A wave of guilt sweeps over me as I lower my head.
“I’m sorry.” It’s hardly a whisper, not even a breath. I brave a glance at him. His eyes are still hard, still wounded.
He lets out a harsh breath. “Do you even understand how much I love you, Pip? It defies all logic. The only thing I think about is keeping you safe. I know that you’re scared, but I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Even if it means I have to build you a fucking house out of bamboo. Even if that means we are stuck here indefinitely.” He softens his tone. “I’m glad you recognize my need to protect you, but I don’t plan to leave you. You won’t have to watch me die, Pip. I’m not going anywhere. Maybe I was selfish with my actions, but I can’t find it in my heart to care. Not when you’re still here. Alive and pissed. So, scream at me if you need to, but don’t make my job of protecting you any harder by shattering your goddamn hand. There are a lot better ways to get rid of that pent-up anger, and trust me when I tell you, I’ll be more than a willing participant.”
His eyes heat with the implication, pupils dilating as he assesses my response. I just now realize how close we are standing, nearly chest to chest. I try not to let his words affect me, but I can’t help the little flutter in my chest. He loves me. He’s said it before, but he certainly proved it as our plane was going down. Has he always loved me? Did he ever stop? Those are the questions I am dying to ask. I should be asking about my sister. Why was he with her? Did he love her too? Does he still? I don’t care, though. He lovesme. Maybe that should make me feel bad, but all I feel is relief. I feelwholefor the first time in eight years.
