I should get up.
I should run.
Put distance between me and whoever it is.
After a moment of hesitation, I push off the ground to sit up. My back meets the rough bark of a tree. My body aches. My lungs are only capable of short bursts.
Leaning my head back on the tree, I let my eyes fall closed and accept my fate.
Footsteps close in, slowing as they crunch on the ground near me.
A huffy breath is followed by warmth moving in, right in front of me.
I hold my breath, swallowing down a sob. Wringing my hands, I don’t dare to open my eyes. I don’t want to know who found me.
I can’t bear it.
Eighteen
CALLUM
Ijolt off the bunk.
The echo of a scream reverberates through the hut.
“Fuck!”
I’m off the bunk and out the door before my head can catch up.
Another scream.
I take off at a run toward the sound. The brush is whipping around in the wind. The ground is too damn slippery. My feet are bare.
Dammit.
Thundering through the trees, I’m a man possessed. The only other person on this island is Evie. If those are screams, they’re hers.
The storm releases its fury on my little island like it has fucking permission. I pick up my pace.
Another scream. This time, it fades out. Like she’s giving up.
Christ, mo nighean.
I slide to a halt, breathing hard as I brace against a tree. Water courses down the bark, washing over my hand. The canopy looses its watery load onto me. Its icy fingers slide downmy neck, soaking into my collar before running down my back and chest.
The faint sound of something moving toward me comes from not too far away.
She almost made it.
I take off toward the rustle, hoping to find her unharmed.
Why the hell is she out here in the fucking storm?
What would possibly drive her from the safety of the lighthouse in this shit show?
I round an oversized trunk and slow my stride as I see her lying on the ground. The tons of weight that hit my heart at the sight of her steal the hot air from my lungs. I stand, hands hanging, taking her in. Her desperate face, pained and twisted as she sobs, lying on the forest floor.
With gentle movements, I eliminate the space between us and squat as she sits up, eyes still closed. Her shoulders heave. Her hands wring. Her throat works. Her body shakes.
