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)
I listen harder, flipping through a mental catalog to make sense of the buzz, and poke my head out of our shelter to take a look. The sun is up—we’ve clearly overslept from our normal routine—and a wavy haze cascades through the rays as they hit the water, but nothing else I can make sense of looks out of the ordinary.
She pokes her head out beside me, both of us listening and trying to track where it's coming from.
We stare at each other for a long moment and then another, and when it finally hits me, it does so with the force of a bullet to the chest.
“Holy shit!” I whisper-shout, shoving my way out of the tent and making Avery scramble to follow me as I take off at a run.
My eyes are bleary in the already-bright sun, and the reflection of the water makes it hard to focus, but I swear on the bright-blue space of the horizon, I see a small dot, traveling from left to right. It doesn’t look like a bird, and it sure as hell doesn’t fly like one.
“It’s a helicopter!” I try to yell, my voice still hoarse from both sleep and dehydration.
Unexpectedly, the words snap something in Avery, and she takes off at a run for the water first, her lean, tanned legs eating up the distance more quickly than I’ve ever seen them move. I follow closely behind, waving my arms widely and wildly to try to catch the aircraft’s attention, and Avery mimics me as I come to a stop beside her knee-deep in the water.
She jumps up and down and hollers and screams, and I do the same. My hand bumps her arm and knocks her to the side, and she stumbles in the water, but neither of us falters. I stare hard, afraid if I move or blink or take a breath, the vision will disappear into thin air and I’ll have to face the devastation of my imagination playing tricks on me.
I don’t trust that it’s not a mirage, and I certainly don’t trust the surge of adrenaline that’s dumped into my veins not to get me in trouble.
“Heyyy!” Avery screams, her sweet voice cracking with the effort to be loud, and my ears ring at the volume. Without anything to talk over, we’ve gotten quieter over the last two weeks.
Both of us jump higher as the helicopter seems to turn and come toward us, and a weird swirl makes a whirlpool in my fucking stomach.
“Help us! We’re down here!” Avery screams animalistically, her voice a mix of a cry and a cheer, and for far from the first time here, I know exactly what she’s feeling. Reality feels stretched and hope restored, and yet, in the back of my mind, I still have all the fears and questions I’ve been packing away for the last two weeks.
Fears of letting in expectation, fears of what’s to come of us when we’re no longer in this tropical bubble.
“Hey!” I yell, my voice cracking ever so slightly as I try to make it as loud as humanly possible.
Avery grabs on to my arm and squeezes, and for the briefest moment of time, both of us look away from the approaching rescue-savior to look at each other.
Her hazel eyes are tired and withdrawn and her body frail, and I know I must look the same. It’s obvious the timing of this rescue is saving us from some truly challenging times, and that if left much longer, the damage to our health might be irreparable.
And yet, there’s a scariness to the idea of going back to everything outside of here without a handbook for how to handle it, and I don’t know the right words to say to comfort her.
To reassure her that it’s her and me against the world, always.
To tell her that this island woke me up to all the things that truly matter in this life—and that at the top of the list is her.
Once, Avery Banks, my best friend’s little sister. But now, so much fucking more.
She turns back to the approaching help and waves her arms in the air, bouncing up and down over and over and over, her stretched-out sweater nearly falling off her.
“Avery!” I yell over the whooshing sound of the helicopter blades. They’re close now, and I feel a desperation down to my bones to say something to her—anything to convey what she means to me. “Avery!”
She turns to look at me briefly and then back to the orange-and-white Coast Guard helicopter before I can get anything through the dry confines of my thick throat. Thwarted, I follow her gaze back to the helicopter as it turns to the side, revealing the relieved faces of Beau, Ronnie, and Maverick in the open side door.