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)
Avery tries to wait for me, but overwhelmed as we are with people, it’s an impossibility. We aren’t the only two people in the world anymore.
Not even fucking close.
My body is stiff from exhaustion, my mind still spinning from the whirlwind of survival. But the ache in my chest isn’t from dehydration or hunger—it’s from the sight of Avery disappearing into the crowd without me.
Cameras flash and voices call out, frantic and eager for a glimpse of the “island survivors.” Several journalists shout questions in my direction, and my stomach twists. I don’t know what I expected to happen once we were safely rescued, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. We’re not celebrities or rock stars or billionaires—we’re just a couple of people who got lost in the fold of the universe for a brief moment in time.
Normally, I’m not opposed to having a moment in the spotlight, but normal is on the bottom of the ocean in a banana-colored plane.
Being on the island wasn’t easy, but it was real. And yet, with the distance between Avery and me growing by the second, it’s starting to feel like it didn’t happen at all.
All these fucking cameras and reporters and people waiting to see the infamous “island survivors” feels faker than a porn star’s tits. They don’t care about us—they care about ratings. Our story is bound to bring them.
I don’t have any use for them turning what happened between Avery and me into some cheap, money-grab headline when it was…so much more than that.
Using a hand to block the light from the cameras and ignoring them otherwise, I scour the crowd for Avery.
I can still feel the warmth from her hand in mine, but she’s long gone, tucked into the waiting arms of her family. They’ve been frantic, I’m sure, though the two of us have worked really hard not to let ourselves go there.
Neil and Diane are the best of the best. They love their kids—and even their kids’ friends—fiercely and are the most generous and kind and compassionate two people you’ll ever meet. Their worry and well-being while we were gone wasn’t something we could control, and if we’d let it, the need to do something to fix it could have driven us insane.
My father was always that way with me too, so in some really weird, fucked-up way, I’m glad he didn’t live to see this.
I catch a glimpse of Avery’s brown hair, still frizzed and matted in parts, as her mom pulls her into a crushing hug. Diane’s sobs are soft but audible, and Neil and June end up latching on in a pile, unable to wait for their own turn. Beau stands back a foot, his little girl Addy on his hip and his four grandparents, Phil and Bev and Bill and Judy, at his side, and waits, having taken his moment on the helicopter ride back. His face is tight with stress and worry, and his hand grips Avery’s shoulder like he’s afraid she might vanish again.
They’ve missed her. Of course they have. I’ve spent the last two weeks alone with her, and right now, I miss her too.
“Henry! Henry! Over here!”
The shout of my name startles me as reporters rush closer, microphones and cameras aimed directly at my face. Questions fly at me like bullets.
“How did you survive?”
“What happened to the pilot?”
“What was it like being stranded for thirteen days?”
“Was this a stunt you pulled for Adrenaline Junkie marketing, or did you really get stranded on that island?”
A fucking stunt? Getting stuck on a remote island with no food, water, or way to reach the outside world? Give me a break.
Before I can open my mouth or flip that last reporter the middle finger, a Coast Guard officer steps in, holding up his hands to keep the media back. “Give him some space,” he barks, his voice firm.
“Henry!”
Ronnie’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I turn to find him and Maverick jogging over with four bottles of Prime, my favorite electrolyte drink. Ron holds out one of the bottles and pushes it to my chest, and I crack it open and take a swig without thinking.
The taste is overly sweet as it hits my tongue, and I lick my dry lips to spread some of the moisture around, pulling the bottle away to stare at it for a moment.
Cracking open a bottle. I shake my head. I can’t fucking believe it’s that easy.
“Man, you’re the talk of the fucking town!” Ronnie’s laugh is hearty, but his eyes are creased with concern. He watches closely as I take another drink from the bottle and then another, and only when I finish the whole thing in one long gulp do his shoulders fall from his ears.
He pulls me into a bear hug, clapping me on the back. “Still can’t believe you fucking survived a plane crash and living on an island for two fucking weeks straight.”