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)
It’s resolute and reasonable and, thankfully, enough to calm me down again. Avery’s phone is good and gone forever, something I know she won’t like, but when we make it back home, I’ll buy her another.
She can’t call or text June. She can’t check in with her mom. She can’t call her dad and beg him to get us out of this. It’s her and me and the here and now.
For the time being, all that stupid phone was doing was taunting us.
I take a final deep breath and prepare to make the trek back down.
Avery’ll be looking for me, and being there for her is one of the only things I can control.
She’s my priority.
And I’m going to make damn sure I do everything I can to protect her, keep her safe, keep her alive.
Wet from the heat and exertion, I emerge from the underbrush just behind the beach we’ve been inhabiting a little over an hour later. The heat is really working today, so I’m not surprised to see the fire unstoked. Not to mention, I took the poker with me as a walking cane, so I don’t know what I would have expected her to use instead.
A soft snort of air leaves my nostrils as I shake my head at myself, my anxiety to see Avery and ground myself by giving her a hug at an overwhelming high.
I’m an independent guy, but it’s amazing what being trapped somewhere with no idea when or if it’ll end will do to your codependency.
Part of her routine in the mornings is going for a swim and a bath all in one, so I look to the water first, rounding our fire pit on the beach to get a view of the whole cove, but even after a thorough scan, I don’t see her anywhere.
I’ve been gone too long for her to still be sleeping, but I check the tent anyway, the gnawing feeling in my gut growing in intensity with each passing second I don’t find her. There’s a small chance she would have gone to gather some breadfruit, but by and large, not seeing her immediately is completely out of the ordinary.
What if she did go swimming, but she got taken by the current or pushed under by a wave? Or woke up confused when I wasn’t there and wandered off?
Fuck, I can’t believe I thought it was a good idea to go to the top of the ridge without her—without telling her.
Concern ravaging my nerves, I call out her name. “Avery!”
She doesn’t answer right away, so I call again, this time as loud as I can manage. “Avery! Where are you?”
I run into the water, splashing frantically and searching the white sand bottom for signs of her bright-orange bikini. I don’t see it, which is an obvious fucking relief, but at the same time, my gut only feels heavier.
Where the fuck is she?
“Avery!” My scream is desperate and sore, and it’s so loud, it nearly bursts my own ears.
“Henry?” I finally hear in response, the soft, muted sound coming from way in the distance around the natural rock jetty that acts as a wave break at the end of our beach.
Fuck, Avery.
“Oh my God!” she yells now, the volume escalating so much, the panic at its root is impossible to deny. I have a sudden feeling of impending doom I can’t shake. Leaving without waking her up this morning wasn’t kind; it was cruel.
I drop my stick and break into a run to head in her direction so I can cut her distance in half, cresting the jetty just as she’s coming up the other side as well. Her face is red and her eyes are wide, and fear radiates like a painful swipe of a sword in the space between us.
I feel fucking sick to my stomach over the five minutes I’ve been searching for her since I returned, and I’ve been gone for hours.
“Oh God—”
“Where were you?” she yells harshly, the accusation and anguish in her voice locking up my throat. “I thought you were dead or missing or really, really hurt!”
“I’m sorry,” I apologize as she shoves me in the chest in an attempt to storm past me. “Avery, I’m sorry.”
Her sobs only heighten as I grab her by the wrist to stop her, and she claws and scratches at my arm to get away. Her reaction is big and dramatic and over the top, but what it isn’t is manufactured or uncalled for. I can see the raw terror in her eyes and hear the hoarseness in her cries, and it’s all my fault.
I’ve been gone for close to three hours at this point. Who knows how long she’s been screaming my name—how long she’s been scared to death.
Even as she fights, I pull her into my chest and put my hands to her chin to lift her gaze to my own. The whites of her eyes are bloodshot and tear-filled and hurt, and I hold them anyway, letting them lash me as a reminder for the future.