Page 58 of Hunted (Desert Island Duet #2)

“ I s that it?” I ask as a dark speck rises in the distance.

“Yep! That’s it!” Reece yells over the loud noise of the helicopter blades.

I watch in silence as the land gets bigger and bigger in front of us. It’s been two years since we were rescued from this island and my body shivers with a strange mix of excitement and fear.

This place holds fifteen years’ worth of memories for me. Most of them were bad, but some of them were good. I might even say some of those memories were great. My eyes flick to my four guys sitting around me, their eyes all fixed on the growing piece of land on the horizon.

Nobody says a word as we get closer and closer. Soon I’m able to make out the beach. Even from up here I recognize it. I spent half my life there, after all.

The large pile of wood the guys had built is still there, although a lot more scattered now, like the wind has knocked it around in the two years we’ve been gone. I half expect to see a dead body lying around, but Reece already told me he’d taken care of it .

The helicopter gently sets down on the sand, and the engine switches off. The sounds of the chopper slowly die down as the familiar sound of the jungle and ocean start to grow louder.

The guys climb out and look around, but I stay rooted to my seat, my fingers digging into the leather underneath me.

“Darla?” I glance up as Reece steps into the open doorway. “Are you okay, darling?”

I shake my head quickly. “I-I can’t do it.”

When they had brought up the idea of coming back to the island and visiting Mo-Mo, I had been mostly excited.

But now I’m here, I’m filled with fear. The memories of so much time spent alone are outweighing everything else.

Being here brings back the feelings I associate with living here on my own for so long: fear, loss, loneliness.

I jump when something touches my face. Reece kneels in front of me, trying to get me to focus on him. I didn’t even realize I had tuned him out.

“Darla? I asked if you trust me?” I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. I might be slightly terrified right now, but I do trust him.

He unbuckles my seat belt and grabs my hands, pulling me to the edge of the chopper, then he jumps back down to the sand, reaches out and scoops me into his arms.

I cling to his neck as I scan our surroundings. He carries me away from the chopper and towards the large wood pile. “Do you want to go see your old home?” I think about it for a moment, then nod.

“Yeah, I can walk now.” He gently places me on my feet, and I stare down at my shoes. I’ve gotten much more used to shoes over the past two years, but standing in the sand in them is not something I even do at home. It’s even weirder here.

Someone grabs my hand, and I squeeze it tight, not even needing to know who it is. I glance up anyway and Weston smiles down at me. Someone grabs my other hand, and I find Bower on my other side.

They gently nudge me forward and the three of us slowly walk down the path I’ve used a thousand times before. A weird sense of nostalgia hits me. The path has overgrown a lot since I was last here. Clearly there’s been nobody using it to keep the jungle from encroaching in.

I’m not sure where Kingsley and Reece are, but they don’t follow us.

When we turn down the path towards the treehouses, my heart starts beating quicker as nervousness fills me.

I don’t know what I’m expecting to see. It’s almost like I’m starting to wonder if the whole thing even happened.

This place was a huge part of my life, but in some ways, it feels like it happened to a different person, like I saw it in a movie and didn't actually live it myself.

When the clearing comes into view, I suck in a sharp breath of surprise. It’s still here. Although the whole area looks different now, almost like it was abandoned by some natives a long time ago. That thought makes me smile. I guess I was the native.

The jungle has pushed into the clearing, and vines wrap around the ladder and my old home.

The most surprising part is the original hut, the one I started with my dad, is now laying on the ground in a crumbled mess.

It clearly fell at some point in the past two years, and I’m glad I wasn’t here to witness it.

I release their hands, feeling braver now I’m here, and move over to the pile on the ground.

I see the remains of some of my early projects.

The back of a chair here, the terrible attempt at a bag over there.

It all reminds me of the person I used to be.

Not Zee, the warrior that the guys first met when they arrived.

But the old Darla, the thirteen-year-old who was just trying to survive.

“There’s so much stuff here,” Bower comments as he steps up to the pile and starts looking around.

“I spent years making this stuff, perfecting my techniques,” I tell them as we all wander around the pile.

“Is there anything you want to take with us?” Weston asks, his eyes scanning the pile.

I shake my head, knowing there is nothing in the hut I want to remember.

Weston bends down and picks up a small piece of furniture I don’t recognize, until he turns it on its side. I inhale sharply, taking a step back as my stomach churns, as if remembering the pain.

“Oh shit, that’s a—” Bower cuts himself off, his worried eyes flicking to mine.

“A crib,” Weston finishes for him, before gently placing it back on the pile as the two of them move back over to me. He takes my face in his hands, his eyes searching mine. “Are you okay, Darla?”

I take a ragged breath, my hands clutching his arms as Bower wraps his own around me. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths, letting them ground me.

I’m okay. That happened a long time ago. I’m okay now.

I open my eyes and nod at him. “I’m alright now.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.” Deciding I’ve seen enough, I look up at my old hut. “You think it’s safe to go up there? ”

“No,” Weston answers instantly. “Look at the vines pushing through the walls.”

I take a moment to really look at it and see what he means. Multiple boards have been pushed out of where they used to be by invading vines from the surrounding trees.

“Is there something you wanted from up there?” Bower asks.

I think about it for a moment, then shake my head. “No, I already have everything I need.” I grab both their hands and bring them up to my lips one at a time, kissing their knuckles.

“There is somewhere else I need to visit though,” I tell them as I scan the area for some flowers.

“Lead the way,” Bower says, and when I don’t see what I want, I lead us back down the path and towards the waterfall. On the way, I stop to pick a handful of pretty purple flowers, then we continue on in silence.

Eventually, the grave comes into sight, and my eyes instantly prick with tears. It happened so long ago that I thought it wouldn’t be hard seeing it again. But I’m instantly reminded of the father I lost and the brutal way he was taken from me.

I lay the flowers in front of the grave marker as I stare at the words “Beloved Father”. Even then, it didn't seem like enough, but I didn’t have it in me to carve anymore.

“Hey, Dad,” I whisper as I stare into the mound in front of me. It hasn’t been dirt in a long time, grass overtook it years ago, and as I talk, I pull out some weeds as the other two silently cut back the encroaching foliage.

“I miss you. If you’re wondering why I haven't been here in a while, it’s because I did it, Dad.

I got off the island.” A tear slips from my eye, and I quickly wipe it away as I sniffle.

“I’ve been free of this place for two years.

And I’m happy now. I found four amazing guys who have helped me in more ways than I can ever name.

Oh—you already know one of them, it’s Reece.

You remember him, of course. I also found out everything that happened, with Grandpa’s and your business, with Kenya…

with our plane crash. It turns out Richard Benson was behind everything.

You sure know how to pick your friends, Dad. ”

I let out a small laugh as I wipe the wetness away from my cheeks.

“He’s gone now, though. So we’re all safe.

I’m safe, Dad. Finally. I think you’d be proud of me, surviving all this time and learning to live in the real world again.

You don’t have to worry about me anymore, okay? I’m going to be okay.”

Just then, a small butterfly flies out of the trees and comes to rest on his grave marker. I suck in a breath of surprise as I stare at it. It flutters its wings a couple of times, then takes off, flying into the jungle.

It was just a butterfly, one I’ve seen a hundred times before, but the timing of it makes my heart beat wildly in my chest. It feels like a sign from my dad.

I look up through teary eyes as Bower smiles down at me. He saw it too.

“You think it was him? Giving me a sign that he was listening?” I ask hopefully.

“Definitely. From everything you and Reece have said, your dad was an amazing guy. It wouldn’t surprise me that he found a way to communicate with you from beyond the grave.”

I smile at him and wipe my tears away as I glance around. “Hey, where’d Weston go?”

“He went to help the others. ”

“With what?”

“With this,” Weston says. I turn around as the three of them step through the trees carrying a large shiny piece of wood between them.

“What’s that?” I stand up as they move it closer and put it on the ground, leaning it against a tree. When Reece steps back and it comes into full view, I gasp, my hands flying to my mouth as tears, once again, roll down my cheeks.

It’s a dark wooden tombstone, with a metal plaque that’s been engraved with my father’s name, Donald Danvers, his year of birth and death, and below that it reads “Beloved Father” .

“How did you get this here? Why didn't I see it?” I ask, stepping forward to run my hands over the letters.