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)
They’re shouting, waving, alive with relief, but within seconds, the Coast Guard crew pushes them back, stepping forward as the aircraft maneuvers for landing.
And then it hits me. A sharp, breath-stealing realization.
This is it. It’s really happening.
The past two weeks of survival, of desperation, of clinging to each other like lifelines, of pretending that this island was the only world that existed—
It’s over.
The weight of it slams into me all at once, and my knees buckle.
I collapse into the water, my chest heaving, my senses overwhelmed, and my mind unable to catch up to the reality we’ve spent days chasing.
Avery falls next to me, pulling me into a crushing hug and burying her face into the hollow of my neck. I cling to her, one arm tight around her back, the other shielding her from the crushing wind of the blades.
I should be looking at the helicopter. I should be watching as it descends to the sand, kicking up embers from the dying fire.
I should be feeling nothing but relief. But all I can see and feel is her.
It’s really happening. They found us. We’re rescued.
But somehow, it doesn’t feel like I’m being saved.
Avery
Beau hugs me tightly as the sound of the helicopter roars around us, his genuine cries of relief slicking the skin of my shoulder with a sheen of tears Henry and I have long since lost the ability to produce. I know he’s overwhelmed—and I even appreciate it, seeing as I’ve been freaking missing for nearly two weeks and this is the proper response to that—but my insides feel hollow, my emotions nearly empty.
A coastguardsman takes my pulse from behind Beau’s back before smiling and shoving away to head for the front, and another works over by Henry, doing much the same.
I try desperately to draw from my normally quick-trigger well of tears and tantrums, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to feel anything. I don’t know if I’m too tired or too hungry or too traumatized, but my body is in overdrive, and even the feel of my rib cage as my abs try to stabilize with the motion of the helicopter is overstimulating.
“Avery, my God. Oh, Ave, it’s so fucking good to see you,” my brother rambles on, his heart so far down his sleeve it’s practically painted all over his hand. He rubs at my back, and even though the feeling is abrasive against my sun-worn skin, I don’t tell him to stop.
It feels nice to be loved and missed and appreciated, and he smells so familiar and clean and real.
Still, it’s so strange to be with other people, so weird to have a barrier between me and the man I’ve spent the last thirteen days surviving with.
My eyes dance behind Beau, trying to find Henry, but Ronnie and Mav both block my view by crowding in front of him. Though obstructed, I know he sits on the other side of the helicopter by the door, his knees to his chest and his head in his hands as Ronnie and Mav both slap and rub at his shoulders with relieved aggression. There’s a salve on his dry, chapped lips, courtesy of the medic who was working on him, and a blanket is wrapped lightly around his shaking shoulders. I’m glad he’s being loved on and taken care of like I am, but I feel almost jealous that it’s coming from someone other than me.
It’s crazy and startling and doesn’t make a lick of fucking sense, given how readily I would have taken the avoidance just two short weeks ago. But we’ve barely left our island, and yet I miss him.
Beyond that, not being able to meet his eyes is painful and scary, and I’m nearly desperate to know how he’s feeling or what he’s thinking. This is everything we’ve dreamed of since we crashed, but I know both of us had reached a point where we truly didn’t think it was going to happen. It’s not as simple as it could be—as it probably should be. Instead, it’s much, much more complicated.
Beau finally pulls back and holds me at arm’s length, studying the changes in my face and body with incredulity. “How are you feeling? Do you hurt? Are you hurt? What do you need? What can I do?”
I shake my head, barely registering his questions as I try to get a look at Henry again, only to be foiled. I just need to see his face—to hold his eyes and bury myself in the comfort I know I’ll find there. I need it.
Beau’s concern grows as I don’t answer, and I can’t blame him. Being at a loss for words isn’t even remotely my normal MO. I talk and I yap and, right now, I should be railing the whole lot of people on this helicopter with complaints. “Ave. Honey. I think you might be in shock. Are you in shock?”