Page 98

Then he went quiet and fell back asleep as if it didn’t happen at all. He merely reached out for me. I let go of my anger and took in his pain. A hint of a smile pulled my lips, knowing how annoyed he’d be if he knew how deeply I understood his grief. If he only knew he allowed me to see the most vulnerable sides of him…

Running my hands over the muddy spot where he is buried, I can’t help but hope that Maison will appear just like he has done before and that the gentle whisper of wind in the trees is a sign he’s here. However, he can’t be because his lifeless body rests beneath me while his soul is hopefully somewhere peaceful.

I’m better now, away from the cabin and not as isolated. My body is much colder, but my mind is clearer. I was hallucinating and risking extreme dehydration when Maison appeared to me. I hope I never experience that state again and that if I do, I will meet a swift end.

The snap of a twig alerts me. My head whips up toward the sound.

Wind. Silence. Isolating pain.

“Fuck,” I mutter as my heart rate spikes. I look around, seeing nothing out of place, suddenly feeling idiotic for coming out here alone. At least I can scream, and I doubt Nigel would get very far if he tried anything. Then again, I can’t very well scream if I’m dead.

I’m so scared that I can’t move. My body is frozen in this spot, and I lie down in the mud right over the cross. After a few minutes of heavy sobbing, I pull myself together and rise from the grave. The sun is peeking through the clouds over me, and I savor that sunlight, stripping my clothes and walking to the icy waters of the creek.

When I arrived yesterday morning, before I passed out from exhaustion, I changed into fresh clothes, but my skin is still caked with a thick layer of dirt and sweat. Micah must really love me because I’m not sure how he can stand the stench of me, let alone fuck me like this.

When I’m satisfied Nigel isn’t going to jump out from behind a tree, I approach the icy bank and start by leaning over and splashing water on my face. I keep going until I’ve scrubbed myself as clean as I can, then quickly dip into the creek and let the flow of water wash my hair. When I come up for air, Micah’s voice startles me.

“I don’t like you coming out here alone.” My eyes whip to him, standing with his head tilted. He has changed into black sweats and a white T-shirt and is holding a sweater. I avoid his heavy stare. I’ve been crying, and he probably can see it on my face, which makes me feel vulnerable with him.

I keep my eyes to the ground as I rise and walk toward him, and he pulls the warm sweater over my dripping body. I fall into him as he pats me dry. “I’m sorry. I just needed a minute,” I tell him.

Last night was intense. I mean, sex with Micah is always intense, but last night was different. I can’t read him right now, although I’m sure he can read me easily.

He helps me get dressed, then reaches over and hands me a spear. “At least, if you’re going to wander off, take this with you. I made it for you this morning.”

I narrow my eyes, casting my gaze to the sky, realizing I have no concept of where the sun is through the heavy, thick clouds. “You made it this morning? When?”

Micah’s eyebrows rise. “London, you’ve been gone for three hours.”

Jesus.

How long was I at Maison’s grave for? Because I certainly wasn’t bathing for three hours in those icy waters. Maybe my mind is not as clear as I thought.

He clasps his hands around my lower back. “I figured you needed some space, so I gave it to you. But my patience is thin, London, and I don’t want to be away from you.”

A wave of guilt washes over me. I can’t bring myself to make eye contact with him because he’s not going to like what I have to say.

He kisses the top of my head. “You know I love you, right?”

I flit my eyes up, his chestnut eyes flashing. He never says those words to me. In fact, I’ve only ever heard him say it twice before.

I’m quiet, letting him speak because I want to hear him say it.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Not that it will change anything because I can’t be with him.

He runs his hands down my arms and squeezes his brows together. “Every decision I’ve ever made on this island, everything I’ve hunted and killed, every life I’ve saved, I’ve done it for you. I’m keeping you alive, London, and now it’s time to go home.”

I lean up and kiss him, and a weird feeling washes over me. Like, somehow, we are saying goodbye instead of hello. It’s entirely unsettling, and I dismiss the thought.

I have so many things I want to say to him. Like how he needs to deal with his brother’s death, how isolating ourselves will only bring us more pain, and that we can’t avoid our grief by immersing ourselves in each other. Because my grief is eating me up from the inside out, and I think it’s doing the same to him.

I blow out a breath. “We should head back to the others and help.”

He shakes his head and doesn’t let go of me. “Not fucking good enough. Give me something else. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

I slap my hand away from him, my blind rage returning. “I don’t owe you anything,” I say through gritted teeth. “I know you want things to be okay again, for me to swoon because you finally decided to say what you’re thinking, but I won’t, not this time and not just to appease your precious ego. I’m not going back there with you, Micah. I meant the things I said when you left me.”