Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“Hush now, little bird with special wings,” Henry sings again, and I cuddle a little tighter, close my eyes, and will myself to sleep like I’m supposed to.
But I do dream.
Of a mother I can’t identify with at all. Of a mother who would leave someone like him behind even though Henry Callahan is not the person you leave.
He’s the kind you stay for. He’s the kind you stay for forever.
January 5th
Henry
Morning wood pounds from my pants as I shift from my spot under Avery and settle her limbs into place to keep her comfortable enough to stay asleep.
It’s amazing, really. After four whole days on this Caribbean island with limited resources, limited shelter, and limited water, my hunger cues have waned and my markers for thirst are in overdrive. My body has, by and large, clicked over into survival mode, and yet the biological drive to fuck lives on.
Sure, I’ve been sleeping every night with a painfully attractive, warm female draped over me, but I still can’t get over the male body’s dedication to its priorities in times like these.
I’d fucking laugh if it didn’t hurt so much.
And maybe if I weren’t still thinking about last night.
About the way she looked at me, her hazel eyes locked on mine, the space between us thinning, my brain short-circuiting as I got caught in the pull of something I knew damn well I shouldn’t let happen.
But I almost did.
I almost kissed Avery Banks. Again.
And if it weren’t for that rustling in the trees, I probably would have.
Which is the real kicker, because it’s not like I don’t know better. Avery is my best friend’s little sister. Avery is trouble wrapped in expensive perfume and designer clothes. Avery is the one person I should not be thinking about like this.
And yet, here I am. With a hard-on that hurts like hell and thoughts that have no business lingering.
Once outside the tent, I adjust myself in my pants and will my balls to untwist themselves as I slather on some deodorant from Avery’s waist pack we keep just outside under a sea grape leaf at the bottom of the neighboring palm. I run her toothbrush over my teeth using the teeniest bit of water from our hydration pack and then tuck both the brush and travel toothpaste inside.
As I’m zipping it up, I notice her phone for the first time since the no-service debacle and Avery’s subsequent all-American rage, and I wonder briefly if it has any battery left. Not knowing what the future would hold, I convinced her to shut it down when she finished freaking out, but I don’t know if it’s done any good.
Will a phone hold charge for four days if it’s turned off? Seeing as I never power down my stupid fucker, I have no clue.
Carefully pressing the button on the side to power it on, I wait while the apple symbol appears in the center, waiting for the boot up to show the percentage, and do a silent cheer when I see it still has nearly fifty percent. I’m surprised she doesn’t have a passcode on it for security—and yet, not, at the same time. It’s a little annoyance like this that Avery would see as trivial despite all the logical reasons to live with it.
I know we didn’t find service here, but now that we’ve had the time to explore a little more, I’m wondering if we might catch a rogue signal from the ridgetop.
My stomach flips over on itself at the possibility and the need to know.
I shut the phone back off to conserve the battery as the signal symbol dances to indicate it’s constantly searching, tuck the phone into my pocket, and peek in on Avery one more time. She’s sleeping soundly, her hands folded in the prayer position under her cheek and her knees tucked up to her chest, and her face looks as relaxed as I’ve seen it since the moment we arrived.
Guilt swirls in my mind and runs down the line of my spine. I want to see if the ridgetop has a signal, but I don’t want to overinflate the amount of hope inside Avery, and the thought of waking her up while she’s resting so peacefully doesn’t feel good either.
The fact is, this whole thing is a long shot and a half, and a fuck of a workout just to give it a try. The heat of the day is going to build to unbearable levels soon, and if I don’t make the climb now, it’s going to be ten times worse than getting ass-fucked by a porcupine.
Avery doesn’t move or shift at all, and her breathing is even as I check carefully for signs of stirring. She’s out cold. I bet if I go now, I can probably be back before she even wakes up or, worst-case, not long after. And fuck, I hate to even think it, but maybe, just maybe, I’ll get to see her pretty face light up when I surprise her with good news.