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 sucks, but he’s right. I’ve been trying to be really careful at seeing to my hygiene after we’re together, but there are some things that are a much bigger risk here than they are at home. There’s no quick trip to urgent care for antibiotics. There’s sepsis and a really ugly death.
Ugh.
“Okay.”
He hums, pulling my face down for a kiss that makes my stomach flip over. “Doesn’t mean we can’t cuddle and make out.”
I nod. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”
Ever so gently, he picks us up from our spot by the fire just like he did the first night we slept together and carries me to our shelter. I wrap my hands around his neck, and he cradles me in his arms like I’m as light as a feather.
I know I’m dropping weight just like he is, but truth be told, I’ve been trying not to focus on it.
I’ve got enough problems to worry about without considering my dwindling appearance. I cling to Henry somewhat desperately as he leans down to scoot us into our shelter, needing our already-close bodies to be closer.
Big, big problems.
Once we’re tucked inside, he rolls us to our sides so we’re facing each other, his eyes tracing my face and leaning forward every few seconds to take slow, lingering kisses. It’s intimate and swoon-inducing, and I find myself easily lost in the magic of it all.
We could be in a daily rental cabana on the beach of a resort, in the warm comfort of my oceanfront condo’s bed, or tucked away on his deep, suede couch in his cushy Miami living room. We’re so locked in on each other, the simplicity of our survival has faded away, and truly, we could be anywhere.
An unknown amount of time ticks by like that, wrapped in each other’s arms as we kiss and touch and explore without rushing to get to a sex-laden end. When his eyes start to get heavy, I rub at his back to encourage him to let go and fall asleep without worry or waiting for me.
Normally, he comforts me to sleep, playing with my hair and singing that same old song about the bird and its wings, but just for tonight, I take the lead at comforting him.
He’s been strong and unswayable in the face of adversity. He’s been generous and careful with me, and not once has he made me feel like more of a burden than a boon. He’s the reason I’m not only alive, but sane.
He deserves to be taken care of.
His features, normally rugged and strong, are so soft as he lets go into a restful sleep, and I study every line as though it’s a personalized, wrapped, and bowed gift.
Eleven days we’ve been here with only each other to lean on. I close my eyes tight and pray that we’ll find a way to get out of here or that someone will find us and save us—save me from myself.
We have to leave.
I caress Henry’s face as he sleeps and stare at his beautiful, chapped lips, pressing mine gently to his so as not to disturb his rest.
Everything inside me screams in self-preservation—a reserve that’s dwindling more and more by the second.
We have to leave.
My eyes find Henry’s face again. We have to leave before I love you.
January 12th
Henry
Avery is already up when I wake up the next morning, sitting on the beach with her legs in the water as it washes up and around her. When I look closer, I see she’s giving herself the only bath we have these days, so I leave her to her privacy and work on collecting the water from our makeshift system instead. There’s not much, but something is better than nothing, and since we’ve been largely relying on the heavy dew since it hasn’t rained since we got here, the deficiency isn’t new.
But it is worrying.
I take a small drink, just enough to wet the membranes in my mouth so they aren’t sticking together and save the rest for Avery. I don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to go on at this pace, but I shove the thought aside for now. It’s not worth thinking about because, like it or not, there isn’t a solution.
“I’m done,” Avery calls, noticing me up here and realizing I’ve been purposely avoiding her.
I carry the hydration bag down to her and hold it out, but she shakes her head. “No, I’m good. You drink extra until you feel like you’ve gotten enough, and then I’ll take what’s left.”
“Avery—”
“Henry, do it. You’ve been allocating most of the water to me this whole time, and it’s starting to catch up with you. Your lips are chapped, and your eyes are sinking in. You’re majorly dehydrated. Drink.”
Rather than arguing, I comply. For one thing, she deserves the courtesy, and for another, I’m starting to feel like I’d do anything she asked, just to make her happy.