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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ELLIOT

Hank falls to his knees in front of the dying fires, smoldering to their last flames in the sudden rain. “What? Why?”

A moment ago, I was dancing on the edge of kissing him. The fire and the clams have sent me into an unexpected erotic high, the certainty of our survival a triumph that needs celebrating.

But the rain extinguishes the good feelings, and the hunger and fear immediately creep back in.

“Come on,” I yell over the storm. “We need to get under shelter, now!”

Hank shakes water off himself as I swipe up our stuff, our shirts and my phone rock.

“Let’s go!” I say again, and we slip and step down the slope. As I turn toward the dry spot, Hank grabs my elbow, thunder rolling in the distance. “Near the cliffs where we saw the birds! By the beach. It’s closer!”

“Good idea!” I yell, turning to follow him.

I scramble down toward the spot. Shrubby green plants that are budding out give way, and beyond, Hank finds an outcropping. The ledge above it supports spreading evergreens, and dried needles are spread on the ground under its generous cover.

We get under the shelter and both shake off. Hank runs a hand through his hair, and I realize he’s on the edge of tears. His eyes are wide, his shoulders sunken, and his mouth scrunched up in worry.

My heart sinks.

“Someone might have noticed the signals before the rain started,” I try.

He nods. “Right. Our plan might still have worked.” He rubs the heel of his palm against one eye and steps back, clearly not buying it. After a moment, though, he looks around, seeing the new spot for the first time. “Oh. This is quite an upgrade.”

I look, too. “Yeah. Good call spotting this earlier. It’s definitely bigger and better protected.”

Hank bends down and touches the needles. “Soft needles, too.”

“Needles don’t sound soft,” I say, but when I bend and touch them, he’s right. “Oh, damn. Like a sheet.” I plop down. “It sucks that our fires got rained out,” I say.

Hank sits next to me on some of the needles as a cold wind gusts through, but we stay protected from the rain. “It’s spring in the Pacific Northwest. There will be constant storms. I should have prepared us better for this.”

I hug my knees to my chest. “Hell, we made fires. That’s an accomplishment, right?”

Hank harrumphs to himself. “I suppose.”

I nod. “Thanks for the clams. I swear, they made me feel like I was on drugs.”

Hank glances and catches my eye. I’m thinking about that moment before the thunder crashed, and I can tell he thinks about it, too, before we both turn away.

I look out over the storm, rolling and shaking the thin layer of trees and shrubs that separate us from the ocean.

“Terrifying,” I say as I watch a tree bend in the wind. “Don’t you get scared when you’re off wandering the forests?”

“Time in nature is how I calm myself,” Hank says. “It regulates my nervous system.”

“Really?”

He glances at me and decides to share more.

“Hiking is how I process things emotionally. When my college boyfriend and I broke up, I went for a three-day hike. And it was only after a solo overnight trip that I finally decided to move to Seattle to pursue my accounting career.” He gestures around us.

“Hopefully, every time I’m on a hike and it rains going forward, I won’t suffer flashbacks to this disaster. ”

I swallow. “I almost never go out in nature,” I tell him. Curious to understand Hank better, and also to distract us from the depressing turn of events, I try to keep him talking. “Just being outside does all of that for you?”

Hank looks out over the storm. “I don’t know how to explain it.

Everything has a place and a role, interdependent.

The natural world can look like chaos, but as you learn more, there’s a purpose and a beautiful pattern to all of it.

This epic, specific arrangement of life, unique to our moment on the planet. I find that calming.”

I feel an ember of warmth beneath the shiver of cold, appreciation for Hank humming through me. “That is nice to think about. Like a really complicated illustration, every line matters to every other line, even though you’d have to look for hours to understand how it comes together.”

“Yes,” Hank says. “That sounds right.”

For a moment, I wonder about life once we’re off this island. Considering he’s upper management, Hank will probably want to distance himself from his boss’s least favorite offspring. After we’re rescued, he and I likely won’t see each other again, I realize, and it’s a strange thing to think about.

“Art does something important for you?” Hank asks me.

“Yeah. I went to college for it, but ended up dropping out. My intention was to go back and finish my degree somewhere else, but my family freaked out about the whole thing and cut me off. That’s when I started selling kink illustrations on the side, mainly for fun after I learned about it from a roommate who was into gay werewolf sex.

Like the moments the werewolves transform, specifically, so they’re kind of half-wolf, half-human while they’re fucking.

” I realize my thoughts are spiraling off. “Anyway.”

Hank pulls closer to me. “Sorry your family cut you off like that.”

“It wasn’t final. They still give me support sometimes,” I acknowledge.

When I go crawling back and debase myself during financial crises, that is. An emergency dentist bill was the only reason I came to the casino boat in the first place. But I decide I don’t need to divulge my entire failure to Hank. I’m already self-conscious about how he sees me.

“I’m glad they still offer some support.” He considers me more. “Sounds like a complicated relationship, regardless.”

More thunder crashes outside, and Hank and I both slide closer to each other.

“Complicated is a word,” I share. “I’ve always disappointed my parents, and I don’t really connect with my siblings. We tried, at least when I was younger. And once I was old enough to start claiming space away from the family unit, that’s what I did. Everyone is happier this way.”

“You deserve better than to be treated like a disappointment. I’m sorry they couldn’t give you that.”

It’s nice to hear him say that. “I’m trying to figure out a healthier relationship, if I can.

Things can be pretty toxic between us, and I know they’re never going to be the supportive, loving parents I wanted.

But the current cease-fire is better than how it used to be, and I’m learning how to communicate and maintain some connection without compromising my own integrity. ”

Although now level-up summer and a better-boundaried relationship with my family sounds like a tall order, considering the significant setback of being castaway on an island at the moment. When I return, I’m going to have to play catch-up just to get back to square one.

I pull my cattail shoes off and push my bare foot against Hank’s, and he gently pushes his foot back.

“What about your family?” I ask. “Your friends?”

“Some friends through my hiking club, and a few accountants I’ll meet for drinks after work every now and then. I’m grateful to have a close family. My mother and father are still together, and I have my twin sister, Angie.”

“There’s another you? Interesting.”

“We’re not identical, although we’re very similar. And very different. It’s a bit difficult to explain.” He sighs and shakes his head. “I really wish I could tell them I’m alive.”

I frown. “Yeah, it sucks.” I look out over the skyline as lightning cracks, wanting so badly to call my friends and hear their voices. “What does your family do?”

“Angie has a tech job at the firm with me. When we were growing up, our parents had a book shop, although they sold it when I was a teenager. My mom got into upholstery after that, and my dad bounced around office jobs. Now they have their own custom upholstery shop. They’re happy, although they work too much. ”

I see more of the contours of Hank’s life taking shape. It’s funny to be going through something so intimate together and still learning these basic facts.

“This rain doesn’t seem to be going anywhere,” Hank says distractedly. “We should try to sleep.”

“Does that mean I get to cuddle you again? Because I am very cold almost always lately.”

Hank snorts. “I’m not sure it qualifies as cuddling when you’re sheltering from a storm on the bare earth.”

“I could suggest some other ways to work up body heat,” I try, watching for his reaction.

Hank scoffs and turns away, hiding his expression from me. He quickly gets to his feet and walks over to the rain, where he splashes water on his face. “There’s no need to joke,” he says. “We’re in the final stretch. It’s time for our rescue.”

I consider clarifying that I’m not joking while I position myself on the ground, pushing needles around to make us a more comfortable bed.

As Hank rubs his face with rainwater, though, I decide there will be no more flirting tonight.

Exhaustion is catching back up, and honestly, what I really want is to lie here with Hank and try to sleep.

He turns back toward me, and his face is serious. “We’ll get to work immediately when the sun rises. Sparing thunder or high wind, we can stay on task.”

I hold up my hands. “Okay. Fine. I won’t joke about body heat. I get it.”

Hank relaxes his shoulders. “What? That’s not what I meant. All I mean to say is let’s stay focused, yes?”

I gesture to the ground, and he sits next to me.

He’s had the plan to get us rescued, but I can tell he’s worn down, increasingly exhausted like I am.

“Agreed. Let’s stay focused. But maybe someone saw the fires and sent a rescue craft, right? And if not, then we’re clearly going to be stuck here for a while longer. So, I know I could use a rest. Maybe some self-care, tend to our injuries before we return to the grind?”

Hank nods slightly and considers my words. He joins me by lying down, close. I get myself in the crook of his shoulder, my arm across his broad chest. His beard is getting scratchy, and as I get in my spot, it brushes my face.

“I suppose we could take care of ourselves. And clean up this new spot.” Hank places his hand between my shoulder blades, gently shifting us, and then keeps holding me like that. “Comfortable?”

I smile, enjoying it when he looks out for me.

“Yes, good,” I say. “Does that mean we can have a slower morning?”

He hums under his breath. “Sure. I suppose that makes sense,” Hank says, and I soon after drop into a deep sleep in his arms.