Page 46 of Rule 4: Never Get Stranded with a Sports Reporter

I watch the moment his eyelids open. I dart my gaze away like I wasn’t watching him sleep, which, okay, technically I was. But only because I was surprised to see him.

“You were on the other side of the beach,” I say.

He stiffens, and when I look back at him, his features have twisted and hardened.

I look toward the ocean. Something is different. “Good morning.”

Jason pushes himself up. “Still in paradise.”

“Yup.” I nod at the crystal blue ocean. I scramble for my sunglasses and put them on.

I groan and massage my shoulder. “Fuck.”

Jason eyes me. “I’m still not giving you a massage, Prescott.”

“I still didn’t ask for one!”

Jason’s lips curve into a grin, and he turns his attention to the water.

Right. I probably should have been looking there too.

“Any boats?” I ask.

He exhales. “No. We’re probably off the major routes.”

“Huh.” I stare at the waves.

The place is ridiculously beautiful, like any advertisement for a tropical honeymoon ever.

Jason stands, slower than yesterday. His movements are stiff, and he winces.

“You still haven’t told me why you came over.”

He hesitates. “I heard a scream. I wanted to check you were okay.”

I blink. “Oh. That’s... nice.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was trying to make sure you weren’t getting murdered by a crab.”

He stalks off, and I can’t help watching him go... until I remember watching Jason is still on the Don’t List.

I follow Jason to the coconuts. “You said an animal screamed?”

“Maybe you had a nightmare.”

I bristle. “I wouldn’t—” I stop. Because maybe Iwould. Maybe I did.

“You looked calm,” he says softly. “When I checked.”

I nod, jaw tight. I don’t like the thought of my unconscious self being anything less than composed. I hate that it might have betrayed something I don’t remember.

“Could’ve been an owl,” Jason offers.

The ocean stretches in front of me—vast, endless, and empty.

But something’s wrong.

And then it hits me: our jet ski is missing.