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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

HANK

When I wake, Elliot is next to me, curled against my side, and the rain has come down to a slight drizzle. His body feels good there, warm, and it takes me a minute to come back to myself, aware of my scratched, cold feet and chapped lips.

My butt is itchy, too, I realize.

Really itchy. Like little flaming needles.

I try to scratch my rear without waking Elliot, but accidentally use my bit hand, and wince as I extract myself to stand. When I extend my fingers, though, the swelling is down.

I’m itching fiercely when Elliot blinks and looks up to me. “Morning, Hank.”

I stop and rub my other hand over what is now approaching a beard, a failed attempt at playing it cool. “Good morning.”

Elliot raises up a wobbly smile.

He seemed to come onto me last night, but I balked in the moment and responded like it was a joke, which it might well have been. It’s ridiculous that I’m still thinking about it, either way. Absurd.

Regardless, Elliot has requested a slower day, and I’m going to follow through on that. Yesterday, he let me steer the ship and collaborated, and I want to show him that I appreciate it. Not to mention, he’s right that we need to take care of ourselves.

Likely, a boat will arrive at any moment, and we’ll never think of any of this again.

“I’m going to grab us some breakfast berries,” I tell him. “Please, go ahead and sleep more.”

Elliot shakes his head. “No, I’m up.” He rises weakly. “I like foraging. I’ll come.”

I nod and try to not itch my butt. “Maybe a slow walk by the beach. If the clouds part enough, we might catch the last of the sunrise.”

“Now you’re talking.” Elliot makes a face and scratches his belly. “Damn. I’m itchy.”

“Yeah, me too,” I admit, and when I finally cave and scratch myself again, almost let out a groan of satisfaction.

“Why in the hell are we wearing this wet underwear?” he asks as he kicks his briefs off. Elliot immediately starts scratching up and down his hips, grimacing.

He stands there, fully naked, and I keep my eyes locked on his eyes, not exploring.

“We’re guaranteeing ourselves rashes,” I admit, itching more under my boxer briefs.

“How are you still wearing underwear?”

I do need to wash and dry my clothes, and it’s not like I have a backup outfit. After everything Elliot and I have already been through, I resign myself, but still hesitate.

Elliot frowns. “Are you shy? Maybe we can use a shirt to cover you up. I bet you I could make it fit cute.”

I frown and push my underwear down. “Nope. We need to dry our clothes,” I say, matter of fact. “And it’s breakfast time.”

After strapping on shoes, we walk to the beach and out across sandy gravel and rocks.

I’m not used to being nude in front of other people, but Elliot seems unfazed, which helps.

Cool waves lap our feet as we make our way slowly, and occasional glimmers of pink and orange shine from behind the rolling gray clouds.

I glance down at my red thighs, but I’m getting over being self-conscious. Elliot and I are miserable together, and there’s a strange comfort in that.

He bends near the water. “These shells,” he says, lifting one. “They’re such a pretty, pinky orange.” He holds one up to my bitten hand. “Look how beautiful it is against your venom bruise.”

He certainly knows how to find the silver lining, I’ll give him that.

I take the shell from him. “I think it’s a cockle,” I say. “They probably live around here. We could eat them, too, but I can’t quite remember their habitat.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “A cockle?”

“Like a clam,” I explain, trying to ignore the innuendo and the fact that we’re both naked and saying cockle . “If a predator comes, it can stick its gooey center out so fast, it jumps away. And sometimes tiny pea crabs live inside of it.”

There. Brain back in working order.

“Cool and gross,” Elliot says, appreciating.

We get up and walk some more until we find a violet patch.

Elliot asks about the birds we’re hearing, so I munch on purple flowers and share what I know.

I point out the wren songs, and when a Red Crossbill appears, I draw Elliot’s attention to the tips at the end of her beak, which overhang and twist, a unique trick to get the seeds out of conifer cones.

“The transition zones are always the most active places,” I explain, indulging because he seems to want to listen, and the distraction is helpful. “Where the sea meets the shore. Where a forest gives way to meadow. Salt water and fresh water sloshing together.”

“Nice,” Elliot says. “Nature likes it when things are different.”

I smile. “A fundamental rule of the universe, simply stated.”

Elliot stands. “Although you are a twin,” he points out.

I laugh. “Yes. Well, there’s something quite different about that, too.”

We start walking together, moving toward the clamming area naturally. I remind Elliot of the basics of clamming, looking for the show in the sand where they’ve dug down.

Elliot plops down next to a small hole. “Got one.”

I spot another nearby. “Excellent.”

He and I both sit and dig through the dirt and sand, which gets stuck to our naked bodies. I have to favor one hand, but I’m healing. Elliot, on the other hand, keeps pausing to wiggle his arm and rub his shoulder.

“Hurt?” I ask.

“I’m fine. Just maybe the rock I slept on.”

I push myself to my feet and walk over. “Stop digging. Let me rub your muscles.”

“Ohhh la la,” Elliot sings. “Can’t keep your hands off me.”

I huff as I plop down behind him. “Tease me and I’ll stop feeding you clams. Now where does it hurt?”

My cheeks feel warm, and I’m somewhat pleased despite trying not to be.

I’m not going to think about flirting with naked Elliot right now. This is a practical massage.

He reaches backward. “My left shoulder. And then down the side.”

I get in position and lay my hand on him, feeling his muscles and the warmth under his soft skin. Elliot lets out a small noise, like a purr, and I swallow.

“You really know your way around a massage.”

“My mom used to throw out her shoulder sometimes,” I explain.

“This always helped.” As I talk, I notice a ship in the distance, beyond the hazy dot that I now know is another island.

My impulse is to jump to my feet, but I quickly realize it’s much too far away for us to try to summon through the foggy patter of occasional rain.

Quickly, it disappears.

Elliot turns, facing me, and my hands fall away. We stay close for a suspended moment as the waves lap, but then he stands, water dripping down his legs.

His cock is right in my face, and I hurriedly stand, too.

“I had an idea for you,” he says.

“Oh?” I ask.

“Since you’ve been feeling so fussy about how dirty we are, I wondered if you’d considered the special bath stones.”

“I wouldn’t call wanting a shower after days in the wilderness fussy.” I arch an eyebrow. “What are the special bath stones?”

“I noticed them when we were gathering seaweed,” Elliot says, and walks closer to the shore. There’s a bit of raised land, and he bends there, picks something up, and returns to me with a pumice stone.

“Oh!” I say happily. “A special bath stone. Of course.”

Elliot offers it to me. “It’s not a bar of soap, but it’s something.”

I look at the pumice stone, marveling at it like it’s a small miracle in my hands. “It is something indeed,” I agree.

For the next hour, Elliot and I take care of ourselves and bathe in the small cove.

We use the pumice on our feet and take turns rinsing out each other’s hair.

I remember that you can use healthy branches of soft green spruce needles as toothbrushes, and Elliot figures out that they make good back-scratchers, too.

I even spot a major haul of salmonberry brambles by their pinkish glow, and gather enough just-ripe berries to give us a delicious snack as we make new shoes.

It’s hardly enough to satiate my hunger. The chill is still in my bones. But easing some of the physical discomfort helps, and as the sun peeks through the hazy clouds, I feel like I can think more clearly than I have in days.

And I’m still thinking about touching Elliot, I note.

“Should we flip the wood?” he asks.

I sit up on the flat rock where I’ve been resting, my hands flat behind me, once again ignoring any and all innuendo. “Indeed.”

“We could gather some wood to keep dry under the shelter, too, for food fires,” Elliot suggests. He looks out over the ocean. “What about a giant help on the beach? Something that can’t be rained out?”

“The fires are a much more effective signal, but I suppose something rain-proof could be more prudent at this point. And yes. A small shelter fire is a fantastic idea.”

Elliot shrugs. “We’ve already put all the energy into the signal fires. We might as well spread the wood to dry first.”

“Agreed. And we can work on beach signals with our remaining energy.”

Elliot looks up at the sky. “If all else fails, maybe we could build a raft and paddle to that other island?” Alarm immediately rises up my spine at the idea, but he thankfully abandons it on his own. “Seems difficult.”

The sun is shining brighter now, so I get up to my feet. We’ve got a plan, and good reason to believe someone is already coming to rescue us. With better shelter and a bath, this is the best things have looked since we fell off the casino boat.

Elliot and I head back to the cliff. “Our clothes should be dry,” he says. “Can you imagine how heavenly dry clothes will feel?”

I scratch my thigh. “Maybe not heavenly, but I’ll be glad to reunite with my trousers before our rescue boat approaches.”

As we step through some shrubbery, there’s a loud creaking and cracking sound that seems to come from above us and around us at the same time. Elliot lets out a startled yell, and I spin, looking for the source as I jolt to full awareness.

The massive oak beside us tips, uprooting the earth with it. A heavy dead branch falls immediately beside us, thwacking the ground, and Elliot starts to run.

I grab his arm and pull him to me instead, throwing us toward the tree. As I do, it falls where Elliot just stood with a massive thud, and branches explode around us.

The fallen oak is crashed into the rocks across from where we stand, and the rocky cliff is to our back. Branches surround us from every side, and Elliot and I are both gasping for breath as we hold each other tight.

My heart is racing, and I’m dizzy.

I ease slightly back, but don’t fully let go. “Are you okay?”

Elliot nods quickly. He pats himself, but there’s barely enough space to move, and he takes a branch in the face, which causes me to stumble backward and catch myself on the rocks.

“I’m okay,” he manages, breaking the branch off and tossing it aside. “Holy shit. You?”

I nod, relieved as I get back to my feet. “I think so.”

Elliot looks at the fallen tree with wide eyes. “That almost killed me. How did you know where to move? It seemed like it was everywhere.”

“If a tree falls, you move toward the trunk. I know it seems contradictory, but that’s the fastest way to the other side.”

Elliot nods. There’s sweat on his face, and something jostles through the branches behind him, startling us both.

Two squirrels leap out of the fallen tree and run away.

I bury my face in my hands. “Unbelievable. I think I need a minute.”

“I can’t decide if I feel like we’re the luckiest people in the world,” he says, “or the unluckiest.”

There’s a thudding sound, and I jump and grab Elliot. I think another tree is about to fall, but I quickly realize it’s different. Rhythmic.

Elliot’s eyes get wide as the noise grows louder. “It’s a helicopter,” he whispers as we each ease back.

The second he says it, I know it’s true. “Oh my god! Oh! Oh!”

“Helicopter!” Elliot yells as he tries to jump through the branches, but falls back on his butt. He cups his hands over his crotch and tries to jump again. “Helicopter!” he yells.

Crazed, I start breaking branches, nakedly pushing my way through the fallen tree and out toward the shore where we can be seen. “Wait! Wait!” I yell helplessly, but it’s no use. The branches are slowing us down too much.

The noise reverberates like thunder, and the shadow of the aircraft passes directly over us.

“No!” Elliot yells as it passes.

“It will be back,” I say, frantically scrambling over the trunk as I continue forward. “They saw our signal fires and came to rescue us. They won’t leave the island!”

The sound of the helicopter fades as we force our way out, desperate.

“They’ll be back,” I say again through gasping breath. When we emerge, Elliot and I are both scratched all over our bare skin, and we run toward the water.

The helicopter flies away from the island, shrinking into the distance as it crosses the sea.

“Come back,” I gasp. “Come back!”

Elliot picks up a rock and throws it in the direction of the helicopter before falling to his knees. “We’re right here!”

I collapse next to him, sweat pouring down my chest. “It’s gone. I can’t believe it. The search party came for us, and now they’re gone.”

My head is spinning. We just nearly died, and now this.

I look at Elliot. If I hadn’t grabbed him, that tree would have squashed him. He’d likely be dead, and I’d be all alone.

The helicopter is gone. We missed our chance.

It’s more than I can process at once.

Elliot throws his arms around my shoulders. “Hank. That was our ride.” He looks up to me with watery eyes. “And you saved my life. Fuck.”

“Fuck,” I agree.

My veins are spiked with adrenaline, and I pull Elliot into a proper embrace.

“Thank god neither of us got hit by that tree,” I say.

Elliot strokes the back of my head. “Thanks to you,” he says, and a tremble goes through me.

Our bodies move together. Our faces are only inches apart. Elliot reaches up and gently touches my cheek, and it’s only when his erection bumps into mine that I realize I’m rock hard.

I let out a shaky breath, but neither of us step back. Instead, after a moment, Elliot gives his weight to me, his legs between mine.

My heart is pounding. There’s no innuendo this time. Just the heat of both of our bodies and a strong, primal urge to kiss him, beating from within like the waves on the beach.

Like the urge to live.

This time, I don’t resist.

I pull Elliot to me, lost in the delirious moment. His mouth crashes against mine, and his hard body is like a shock of pleasure. We grope, hands on each other’s sides, as we kiss desperately beside the ocean.

“Hank,” Elliot gasps under his breath, his lips at my lips.

Something works through my brain, reason returning. I pull my lips back with a grunt.

“Elliot,” I answer, and force myself to step back, breaking the spell.