I made her promise to do just that.
Go home.
Leave me.
Safe? From what?
The last thing I want is for her to leave. I want to beg her to stay. For the first time in my life, being alone is terrifying. It’s something I can no longer comprehend.
The radio in my back pocket squawks. The static is inaudible.
We both pause.
When nothing comes after, I turn her toward the south. “Let’s get to the hut before the weather finds us.”
We make the hut in good time, and I have no doubt the need to ignore each other and go about the business of making the trip as quick as possible spurs Evie forward.
A woman on a mission, she paces in front of the old rustic shack, taking in the warped front door, the knives moving on their hooks in the ocean breeze finding its way through the trees to the little secluded place.
Talking to herself, she touches the opaque glass windows at the front. Removing the knives from the hooks, she disappears inside, mumbling something about aesthetics. She comes back out and stands by my side, snapping images.
Now I realize this place that’s served as my sanctuary, my last piece of my father, I have handed over to her without a secondthought. I know she isn’t hurting it. She’s not tearing it down. But I let her in so easily. Never before has a woman—or anyone, for that matter—had access to the fishing hut.
I think Em has been here a total of twice. With me both times, and only for a short stop on the way to the south end of the island where we hunt through the craggy treasure-filled rocks.
“...should be enough.” Evie purses her lips, returning her phone to her back pocket, her journal tucked in one arm.
“Huh?” I startle, remembering what we were doing.
“I’m done here.”
More painful words have never been spoken. I nod, not bothering to hide the regret eating at me now.
“Sure, we should head back before the weather folds in.” I make for north, not checking if she follows. Picking my way through the soft undergrowth, I sink back into my weighty thoughts.
Torture is being trapped on an island with the one woman you can’t—no, shouldn’t—have.
A soft hand lands on my shoulder. “Wait up, will you?”
I slow, but not by much.
I can’t.
I thought I could do this.
Let her go.
But I feel each chip of my heart as it cracks and falls away. Each more painful than the last.
“Callum, slow down!”
Harried footsteps rush behind me. Short pants snap through the air around us as the debris under our feet crunches.
“Gotta head back.”
I glance at the sky through the small gap the canopy overhead affords. The sky, once dotted with fluffy white clouds, has turned. It must be around three by now. We didn’t take thatlong, surely. I track the bright sunlight poking through the leafy ceiling. Sure enough, it’s descending to the west.
Fuck.
