Sometimes happy. Sometimes
s
a
d.
But always moving forward. The key to surviving is laughing when things get bad and crying when things get good.
I don’t cry enough.
I laugh a lot.
Taken from the notepad of E.E.
...
I SAW HIM go.
How could I not?
I was hyper-aware whenever his eyes landed on me. My ears strained to eavesdrop on the conversation he’d had with Conner. And I’d split my awareness between tending to Pippa and what Galloway was doing behind me.
It hadn’t worked very well.
Pippa’s forehead mimicked the blazing afternoon sun and her lips were dry and cracked from dehydration. At least, the sea had helped; the salt water had turned the edges of her wound from bright red and crusty to whitewashed and swollen.
Conner struck off after Galloway. Two males—one hobbling like an ancient warrior and the other dashing after his new idol.
I didn’t move, cradled by the tide.
Pippa touched my arm. “I want to go join them.”
“Me, too.”
I wanted to know what Conner had said for Galloway to storm off, what he kept hidden. I wanted to know so much but doubted I ever would because secrets had a habit of taking up too much space with no avenue for conversation.
Our island wasn’t tiny, but Galloway’s attitude took up a large section of it, tainting the beach with scorn.
Taking Pippa’s hand, I led her from the ocean.
Instantly, the hot sun seared my skin, sizzling the droplets on my spine. I didn’t have any UV protection or ways of preventing sunburn. After all, I’d planned to go home. Not some hare-brained idea of going on holiday.
Home.
God, what I would give to be home.
Pippa untangled her fingers from mine and dashed ahead. My eyes fell on our scattered belongings, hating my lack of know-how. How could I turn a few helicopter cushions, plastic wrap, and meagre items into food and shelter?
Galloway had propped himself up against the log, and his temper had faded enough to continue talking with Conner. They turned silent as Pippa and I returned.
Galloway refused to meet my eyes. Something had changed. He seemed more angry and vulnerable all at once. However, he directed his pissy attitude at himself rather than at me for a change.
Wringing seawater from my hair, I said, “I need to set your leg.”
“I can manage.”
My hands slammed on my hips. I didn’t care I stood before him in my underwear. I didn’t care that the lace was see-through in places. All I cared about was getting him to accept help without hating the ones doing the helping. “You’re an idiot if you think that.”
I stalked to the forest boundary and grabbed the long stick I’d found. Conveniently, another tree limb rested close by of equal length and thickness.
Two will be better than one.
Claiming both, I stormed back.
No one said a word as I ducked by Galloway’s splayed leg (covered in sand, of course) and watched as I grabbed the Swiss Army knife and cut the rest of my singlet into strips. I mourned the diamantes as they fell into the sand with a lifeless sparkle.
Once I had six strips, I positioned one stick on the right side of Galloway’s ankle and shin and the other on the left. With brisk efficiency, I brushed away as much of the annoying granules as I could and ignored the way Galloway’s muscles stiffened beneath my touch. When he was as clean as I could make him, I said to Conner. “Come and hold these for me, please.”
Conner scrambled up and did as I asked.
Smiling in thanks, I brushed away tendrils of drying hair, and glared at Galloway’s ankle. My stomach rolled with what I was about to do.
It’ll hurt.
So much.
“Damn.”
Galloway flinched. “What is it?”
I pointed at the rough bark of the splint. “That will rub. I need something to wrap around your skin to keep it from getting sore.”
“You can cut up my jeans if you want.”
“You might need them and they’re your only pair.”
“You’ve already seen me in my boxers, Estelle. I hardly think I need to worry about appropriate wardrobes.”
I didn’t reply, merely kept glowering at his leg as if I could magically remove the swelling, realign the abnormal bumps, and take away his agony.
His raspy baritone filled my ears. “You know...I’ve never had a woman glare at my ankle as much as you are.”
“Zip it.”
“Normally, they focus their gaze a little higher.”
“Stop it.”
He smirked. “Just trying to ease the tension.”
“I’m not tense.”
I stiffened as his hand landed on my shoulder with a possessive weight. My heart leapt into my mouth as he slowly, sensually dropped his touch down my bicep, forearm, and traced the blue veins in the back of my hand. “Could’ve fooled me.”
I shook him off. “Leaves. We need leaves.”
“What?” He chuckled.
What the hell am I rambling about?
I’d just blurted something random to combat the power he had over me.
However, Conner came to my rescue. “For padding, you mean? Like you did with mine?”
I latched onto the lifeline. “Yes. Exactly. That’s exactly what I mean.”
Cool it.
You’re acting like a ridiculous schoolgirl.
Standing quickly, I winced and held my ribs. I eyed our umbrella tree with its large glossy leaves. I gathered a few handfuls and rolled them up until they created a cushioning barrier. Sandwiching them between the splint and Galloway’s ankle, Conner kept them in place while I tied the first strip of my top around his knee.