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)
Henry
A fire crackles on the beach as Avery sits stiffly beside it, her clothes laid out like expensive roadkill on the sand to dry. She’s in one of the bikinis from her miraculously useful waist pack—a state of undress I’ve seen her in more times than I can count—but safe to say, this is as far from a choreographed champagne spray at one of her parents’ famous pool parties as it gets.
Avery and Beau grew up with the world as their oyster, and there’s nothing their parents, Neil and Diane, wouldn’t do for them. They’ve been to private school, the University of Miami, and even now, at twenty-seven, Avery still lives off Neil’s money.
Beau works hard for his dad at his marketing firm, Banks & McKenzie—though the McKenzie half sold out to Neil about three years ago after a huge scandal broke out about Chris McKenzie at Beau and Juniper’s wedding and forced him to lose half his net worth in his subsequent divorce—but Avery flies by the seat of her pants, the life of her own little party.
She’s never met a responsibility she couldn’t charm her way out of. Technically, she works at Banks & McKenzie, but according to Beau, if she actually shows up to the office, they might as well call it a holiday and give everyone the day off.
Tonight, though, in the aftermath of arriving on this tiny, uninhabited island, she’s different. Her demeanor is much more closed off than usual, and her shoulders, normally proud and cocky, are curled forward in duress. She looks small. She looks fragile. Things I never thought would ever be associated with the larger-than-life party girl Avery Banks.
After her hysterical breakdown about her phone, and a brief scream-fest a couple hours ago, she’s been largely silent as I work to get us set up for the night. Some people might be upset at her lack of help, but honestly, I don’t mind. I know none of this is in her wheelhouse, and beyond that, I have a persistent feeling that she’s a millisecond away from a full-on breakdown at any moment.
Avery Banks is beautiful, smart, and incredibly, painfully sheltered. She doesn’t know the worth of earning your own dime, she works only when she deigns to, and she takes little to no personal responsibility for her life at any given time. She breezes from one moment to the next, collecting men like accessories—though, evidently, she’s not actually sleeping with them, which is a whole other bombshell for another time—and she literally parties her way through life, never missing a club opening or VIP night supplied by one of her friends.
At thirty-two, and five years older than her, I’m no straight arrow myself, but as a self-certified adrenaline junkie with a sordid family structure that dwindled to zero when my dad died a few months ago, I’m far more prepared for turmoil.
Avery needs time. And that’s okay. I don’t mind giving it to her.
I’ve been plenty occupied with my own stuff and the very real need to figure out how the fuck we’re going to, you know, survive.
After a quick survey of what tools I had in my pack, I got to work scouting the island.
From the air, it looked like a vacation postcard. From the ground? It’s a deserted hellscape. And from what I’ve covered on foot so far, it’s a desolate, rough terrain, with beaches on both the south and north sides. There’s a pretty steep hill in the center, and a ridgetop with what I’m sure will be an advantageous viewpoint eventually, but there’s very little edible vegetation or things of obvious use.
Fire? Handled it. Thank God I always carry a flint.
Shelter? Slapped together a temporary hut with palm fronds, loose sea grape leaves, and sheer willpower.
Water? That’s the real problem. I’ll have to reconfigure the sea grape leaves to collect rain, but for now, I’ve got what’s left in my hydration pack. Normally, I carry one when I jump. After today, I’ll always carry two.
I finish tying down the last section of the shelter and head back to the fire, dropping into the sand catty-corner from Avery. Close enough to read her mood, but still far enough to give her space.
“We’re all set for tonight,” I declare, leaning back into the sand with my hands and letting the heat from the flames lick my grimy skin. “It’s not exactly the Four Seasons, but it’ll keep us out of the weather if we get any.”
Avery nods, tucking her knees to her chest, her voice so small it almost gets swallowed by the crackling fire. “Thank you.”
I nod. “Of course.”
Then, silence. The kind that crawls under your skin. The kind that is thick and suffocating and makes you feel desperate to end it with something…anything.
Fuck, we need a distraction—badly. And since Avery still appears as if she’s in the middle of an existential crisis, it looks like I’m up.