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)
We’ve shared a lot of truths with each other that no one else knows. This one, though, I don’t know that I’m even ready to share with myself.
I go to sleep at night with Avery in my arms, and I wake up wanting to stay there. And every day we’re here, the feeling only gets stronger.
Avery pushes into my arms and up to her toes to seal her lips to mine, and I dig a soft hand into the back of her wild hair. We clutch each other tightly, willing ourselves to hold on to each other and hold on to hope as we wait.
Wait for a rescue we’re not sure will ever come.
January 13th
Avery
I nuzzle instinctively deeper into Henry’s chest as the approaching morning stirs me from sleep. It might not be quality sleep that we’re getting here, but it is comfortable and warm, and I know our bodies appreciate what little restoration we can give them under these circumstances.
Shifting softly, I peer up to Henry’s hairy face to see if he’s awake, but his eyes are still closed and his mouth is still lax with the relaxation only sleep can bring him.
The sun is starting to rise and our lone companions—the birds—are starting to sing, but instead of getting up, I tuck my head back into his warm chest and lie there. I listen to the steady beat of his heart and time my breathing to align with his.
Our chests rise and fall in tandem, and our heat blends together in an even exchange.
There are things I could be doing, chores we’ve established as a part of our routine now that we’re going on two weeks of being here.
It’ll be two weeks tomorrow, to be exact, and the thought is…overwhelming.
It’s a milestone I never thought we’d hit, and a turning point in the faith that we’ll ever be found alive. A few days…a week? Sure.
But when two weeks pass, you have to wonder if they’re even remotely in the vicinity of where we are or if they’ll ever figure it out.
For all I know, we were off course by ten, twenty…fifty miles. If the pilot was feeling off before or maybe if his senses were blurred, he could have been flying in a completely different direction than intended.
I, for one, know I sure as hell wouldn’t have realized.
I take a deep breath to clear my thoughts of all the negativity and turn my mouth to Henry’s shirt-covered chest to place a small kiss there.
As much as I want our time here to end, I wonder what that’ll do to us and all the things we’ve become—all the things I’ve become accustomed to.
I turn back into my sleeping position and tuck back in, letting myself settle and drift back off into the comfort of Henry’s cuddled sleep. I don’t know what’ll happen here. I don’t know what I’ll say when I get all boozed up to celebrate two weeks tomorrow night. Or if it’ll expose me to both Henry and myself in ways I never dreamed of. And I don’t know what’ll happen when and if we leave here and go back to our lives as we once knew them.
All I know is that for a little while longer, I can pretend it doesn’t exist.
I can pretend Henry and I are the only two people in the world and that my dreams are reality.
Because here, in Henry’s arms, the world doesn’t feel so heavy.
Here, I don’t have to be afraid.
Here, in the stillness of morning… I can almost say it.
I can almost admit the truth—that whatever this is, whatever we are, I don’t want to live in a world where it doesn’t exist.
Henry
As the warmth of an Avery-nuzzled sleep tugs me one way, an unfamiliar sound pulls me toward another, clouding the very monotone reality we’ve come to expect for the last thirteen days.
It’s a low hum, like a distant drum or heartbeat, and it fights with the gentle rhythm of the ocean’s waves. It feels like a dream—like I’m standing on top of a building vent shaft waiting to leap, no matter the consequence, and I struggle to make sense of my warring emotions.
It feels wrong and right all at once, and my body jolts as it battles to stay snug with Avery instead. Reflexively, I squeeze her deeper into myself and inhale, taking in the fading scent of roses and salty skin.
I open my eyes and blink rapidly, trying to make sense of my nightmares and reality and where the line is drawn between them. Avery stirs on top of me as the sound gets louder, and I push to sitting, taking her with me.
Her hands find my thighs as she tries to keep herself upright among my shifting.
“What is that?” she asks, her voice raw and raspy with the unshed onus of slumber, rubbing at her face.