Page 18

Trailblazing

Easton

I catch her as she goes down. She crumples into my arms. “Whoa, whoa.” I’m holding her by her waist; her head dangles between her legs.

Her words burst out between hiccups. “I’m . . . stopping . . . myself from . . . hyperventilating.”

“Haley,” I say softly, rubbing her back with my bad arm while my good one is anchored around her waist. She’s still gasping for breath, her hair dangling over the box of chickens. “You’re good. It’s okay. Let it out if that’s what you need to do.”

The rhythmic rasping slows enough for me to pull her upright into my chest. Her tears run down my back.

And fuck it—stupid bad arm be damned. I sweep her feet off the ground and hug her the rest of the way to my chest. Pain ratchets through my bicep and down my spine.

I grit my molars and move to the ladder for the sleeping platform.

Fuck me, after last night she should sleep for a week. Not be worrying about our stupid asses.

“What the hell?” Calvin storms through camp and Haley is ripped from my arms. “What are you doing?” Punching him while he’s holding Haley isn’t a good idea.

But it doesn’t stop me from thinking about it.

His blue eyes are unreadable, and I shake it off in favor of smoothing Haley’s hair away from her face.

“He didn’t do”—she hiccups—“any”—hiccup—“thing.”

“Other than almost drop you. His arm’s still fucking useless.” Calvin glares at me over Haley’s head. “Why are you crying?” It’s less of a question and more of a demand.

“I . . . Put me down, Calvin, I’m fine.”

He lets her feet slowly sink to the ground. Which frankly shocks me.

“What’s going on?” Sam growls.

Dante, Sam, and Zane bound around the corner, with Penny behind them. When I turn around, who said it doesn’t matter—they all have the same look on their faces. They’re pissed. At me or Calvin—it doesn’t matter.

Zane’s the first to move. “What is it, Little Bird?”

“Nothing. It’s all good.” She blinks. “Shit, I hate crying. Really, it’s nothing. I’m good.” With the back of her hand, she wipes away an errant tear.

We’re not idiots—well, at least I’m not.

There’s more going on. But I don’t blame her for not wanting to go into it with all of us staring at her.

Shit, I spent two years in therapy as a kid, just staring at the therapist. Some nice older lady in Maine with cool puzzles in her office.

The only other thing I remember about the whole experience was wondering if she’d like my mother’s old shoes.

Because hers were so dirty and my mother, well, she was dead. So yeah, cheery.

“You want to go to sleep, Firefly?” I take her hand.

She nods.

I spent most of the night staring at the rafters of our roof––worrying about Haley.

We’re a silent bunch eating on our coconut.

We need to push through this. I cock my head at Zane, but damn, I can comfort her, too, without looking for support from the shiny-smiley guy.

“We should have a party,” I say softly into the wind.

“Party, Rockwell?” Calvin asks, like I’ve grown a third head.

“Yeah, a fucking party. I overheard Haley talking about Thanksgiving and Halloween while we were unloading the tender.” I clear my throat, and the words come with more authority now.

Dante’s stacking fruit in a tub. “A party, though?”

And I figured he’d be the one I could count on to back me up on a party.

“Thanksgiving and Halloween are over.” The red ring around her blue eyes makes them pop even more.

“Christmas is weeks away,” Sam says.

“We don’t need a holiday for a party, but we could make one. Thanks-o-weenie.” It just pops out of me.

I scan the group. They’re all stunned, I suppose. No one says a word.

Until Haley laughs. “Thanks-o-weenie? That sounds like something Dante would come up with.”

“It does, doesn’t it, Sassy? Guess I’m improving all of you. It sounds like a fucking great idea for a holiday.”

“And what exactly does one do on Thanks-o-wee?—”

“Come on there, Sam, Thanks-o-weenie? It’s in the name!” Dante slaps his leg.

“Or—hear me out—we could have Island Festival Day. A celebration of living the way we want to live.” Zane nods and does a move with his hand that reminds me of a model in one of the game shows that my mom used to watch when I was really little.

“Or we have Thanks-o-weenie, drink a couple bottles of the wine we have left, and fuck.” Dante shrugs at Haley. “What do you think, Sassy?”

“Why not both?” She holds her hands out to the side.

“Oh, it’s like one of those long holiday weekends where one holiday runs into the other. The neighbors at my dad’s house in Miami are from Bangladesh, and they have a huge party around Diwali and a holiday that is right after it,” I say.

“Like Christmas and New Year’s,” Sam says.

“It’s Govardhan Puja,” Zane adds.

“Impressive. But what do you think, Sassy?”

“Again I say, why not both?” She holds her hands out to the side again. “Both. I like the idea of celebrating each other. And thanking the island and the ocean for feeding us.”

“Well, to be technical, I’m the one who has been feeding us.” Dante saunters over to Haley and pulls on her ponytail.

“You know what I mean. Maybe we can tie it in with a ceremony on the other side of the island.” Haley turns around and stares at Calvin.

“Not now, Chiefie. It’s a nice idea, but we should wait until we need food again.”

“I suppose that’s practical.” Haley holds his gaze.

I’m watching him. Not taking care of the farmers on the other side of the island is gnawing at him.

I saw the relief on his face when he thought we were going over today.

Then to not even get there? Yeah, it makes it worse, I’m sure.

It’s like training for a meet and then having it canceled a few hours before.

Meets are never something I wanted to do, but I was always glad I had done it when it was over.

“Practical is what we need to be to survive as long as we can,” Calvin says.

Zane groans. “Stop with the doom, Green. We’ve made it a long time. No one wants the shirty uncle who ruins Christmas around.”

Dante’s moving around in the kitchen area and shouts, “This isn’t Christmas. This is Island Festival and Thanks-o-weenie. Sassy, come here—I’m going to need your brains to figure out the perfect meals for our new holidays.”

She smiles, and a pang of jealousy hits me. I want to always be the one to make her smile. But as long as she’s smiling, that’s what really counts.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think you’re the smartest here. But I’ll help.”

“No one comes around the other side of the other tree until I say so.” Zane stops. “Wait, Sam, you want to help me?”

“With what?”

“It’s a surprise. Just come on,” Zane says.

Sam shrugs and follows Zane. Penny and Pepper follow him, and soon it’s just Green and me standing under the living room platform. I look over at the kitchen. Dante has Haley sitting on the counter, and she’s laughing, their heads inches apart.

“That’s good!” She giggles. It’s soul-filling music.

Calvin has his hands on his hips. “Come on, then.”

I look around. He’s talking to me.

“What? Maybe I have something else I need to do.” I lift my chin to him.

“You don’t, and Zane’s not working on a new home for these guys.” He points at the chickens. “We’ll need to do it.”

I glance back to Haley, who’s oblivious and coming out of her funk. “Fine. What are we doing?”

“We’ll need to give them a home base that they like. Free food. And then we can give them more freedom. Let them spread their wings. We had chicken tractors on the farm. Huge things we pulled with the tractor.”

“We don’t have a tractor.”

His eyebrows rise. “We also don’t have a thousand birds.”

“Right. Where do you want to start?” I’m wishing I’d spoken up earlier and helped Zane. But then, avoiding Green isn’t going to be possible. And we should talk about what happened. Or not—I’m sure that’s what Green was planning on doing.

Yesterday was weird. Not the Haley part. That was fucking amazing. Being inside of her when she broke apart completely... Damn, thinking about it makes me want to do it again.

I’m not into guys—I don’t think I’m even bi—but the whole thing turned me fucking hard. I can’t imagine getting it on with just Calvin. Fuck, the thought of having to deal with Green on a daily basis without Haley makes me want to puke. Not bi then, but also not not bi.

Whatever, I’ve had plenty of chances with guys before, and I never wanted to take them.

I still don’t, but yeah, yesterday has left me a little scrambled.

And I should talk to him about it. I’m all in with Haley.

If the grumpy Viking walks away from her, from this, when we’re back on the mainland, I won’t be the one chasing after him.

“We need more bamboo and vines. Get them some water and food scraps while I get the pack ready.”

“Aye-Aye.”

Green glares at me, and I pivot away from him. “Hey, the admiral wants me to feed the chickens. What do we have?” I ask Dante.

Dante moves around the kitchen space without taking his eyes from Haley, gathering bits of things in a tub he’s been using for waste.

“How’s the festivities prep going?” I place my hand on Haley’s back.

She turns her blue eyes to me, full of light now. “Really good. Thank you for this. It’s exactly what I needed.”

My heart soars at her recognition. When did I become so needy and thirsty for attention? “Oh, it’s going to be fun.” I plant a kiss behind her ear. “You sure you two don’t need any help with the food?”

Dante thrusts the bucket at me. “Absolutely. You take care of cranky pants. And here’s a couple of our older coconut bowls for water for the chickens, Swimmer Boy.” He drops them into the bucket.

“Can’t fault a guy for trying.” I take the supplies and quickly get the chickens set up before Green comes around the corner.

“Here.” He holds out a spare pack for me.

“How far are we going?”

“The vines I want grow above the waterfall.”

“There’s vines by the derelict.”

“Not the thin bendable kind that the chickens won’t think of as food.”

“True. But are we going to have enough time? To get back for the parties?”

His forehead furrows. “Island Festival Day is tomorrow and Hallo-o-givings is the next day,” he declares loudly to the camp.

There’s a chorus of, “Okay” and “Works for me” from behind the tree. From the kitchen Dante says, “Thanks-o-weenie.”

Calvin’s eyes crinkle. He fucking knows what it’s called.

We take off at a pace that’s just short of a hell run.

My college coach took the team on one when he found out we’d had a party the night before a big meet.

I didn’t mean to, but somehow I ended up in the middle of what I thought would be the craziest night of sex in my life.

Thinking back on it, it looks like a ten-year-old’s birthday party now.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing. Is that as fast as you can walk?” I push around him and take off at a jog. We’ve got a few hours of daylight left.

Soon after, he’s got a bunch of vines looped in his hand like a cowboy’s lasso. My pack is full, and there’s sweat running down the sides of my face.

“Sure, we need to cut less bamboo from our side,” I say, “but the shit grows fast. Let’s get it from the patch near camp.”

“No, we need to be responsible.”

“Fine,” I say.

“Indeed.” He zips up his pack, the vines shoved deep inside.

“Good talk.” I take the volcanic rock steps down the side of the hill faster than a mountain goat I hope I never run into again.

I’m down the other side of the mountain and into the field of bamboo when Calvin screams, “Fucking hell!”