Page 66 of Shipwrecked

I nod.

Seán and Mathieu both wait an extra beat for some remark from Jules. None come. He’s usually the one organising and making plans. Without his buzzing, it’s eerily quiet.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jules

“We’re going to lie down.”

I nod.

As if by magic, I’m lying down. Cillian’s face is difficult to make out under the lean-to. I concentrate harder.

“Good job keeping your attention on me,” Cillian says. “You can take a break.”

I waver. What does a “break” mean? I should stop looking at him? Or stop paying attention to him?

“Come here.”

I go to him. He guides my face against his throat, where I feel his warm, beating pulse. It’s too fast, but his hand is steady as he strokes my head. His calmness settles over me.

I listen to him breathe, waiting for instructions. I won’t be caught unawares. I realise, after a long time, that the instruction isn’t verbal. It’s in the calm stroking of my hair, the pressure of his chin on the top of my head, his thumb rubbing against the back of my hand.

Calm.

I breathe deeply. My lungs seize as if they’ve been bereft of air. I grow aware of the buzzing in my head. It’s like static and hard to think around. When I pull free of it, I get the sense that many hours have passed. My throat is tight, and it hurts to swallow. Pain throbs through my shoulder. A headache replaces the static.

Cillian is stretched out next to me. I’m guided against him, but nothing is holding me there by force. There’s strength in his broad shoulders, but they’re for leaning my weight against. His hands are large and sturdy, strength controlled for comfort.

“When I was fifteen, my friends and I were learning to drive,” I say, my voice croaky. “I passed the theory test and had enough money saved for the lessons. The problem came after. You need a guardian in the car with you to practice, but at the home where I lived then, neither of the caretakers had licences themselves. My friends all practised with their parents, it wasn’t even a…consideration. I lost my parents when I was eleven, but that was the first time I realised I didn’t have a safety net the way others did. That things like having someone to sit next to me while I practised driving weren’t a given, and they never would be.”

Cillian listens. I hear a rustle behind me. Mathieu, stirring. He’s awake too.

“That feeling,” I say. “That’s how I feel right now.” It’s this mixture of intense vulnerability, of loss, of realisation. There’s fear in it too. This…unfairness. That everyone else has something I don’t. “That feeling when I realised I was alone.”

I sit up.

The fire is burning low. Seán’s feet poke out from beneath his lean-to. The surrounding trees are full of shadows, humming with insects. Our island of plenty, that nobody can find.

Cillian’s hand brushes my side.

“Darren filled that gap. Someone I could call if my car broke down, or I needed to borrow fifty euro, or who I called to grab Lemsip if I was sick and didn’t want to leave the bed.” And in exchange, I ignored the jealousy. The outbursts of anger. The way my presence wore down his nerves, even when I wasn’t doing anything. “I should have left him ages ago.” I’m barely speaking above a whisper. “But I didn’t want to lose home base.”

“You don’t need to justify yourself, Jules. He’s the one in the wrong,” Cillian says. “And if your car breaks down, or you need to borrow fifty euro, or you’re sick and want someone to bring you medicine, call me. I’ll be that person, if you like.”

I turn and meet his eyes. There isn’t pity, but the same steadiness I’ve felt in his hands all night. The same steadiness he’s had since day one.

“My brother’s a mechanic,” Mathieu says, “and France uses euros, and my dad’s a doctor, so it is probably better to call me.” He sits up. I turn to him, finding dark, serious eyes focused on my face. “I know I am not a survival expert, and I’m not the first person to volunteer myself for leadership roles, but I am reliable. Just because I flirt and joke doesn’t mean I don’t take things seriously.”

I think I could call either of them and they’d come.

Mathieu’s expression softens. Can he read the belief in my eyes? He reaches out, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of my face. “I know you have a driving licence. What did you do for practice?”

“I looked up the youth support groups in the city and called a few of them. They sent out two volunteers every weekend for me to practice with.” Those days had been nerve-wracking at first, but the volunteers were lovely.

Cillian sighs. I frown in his direction.

“Don’t worry.” Mathieu presses against my side. “That’s his ‘I’m attracted to you’ sigh.”