Page 24 of Wandering Wild

We sprint through the trees as if there’s a pack of wild animals snapping at our heels, pushing our bodies faster and faster toward the clearing. I wish I could say all my attention is on the approaching helicopter and making sure we reach it in time, but as I race through the forest, there are only two things bouncing around in my mind:

Zander nearly kissed me.

And I wanted him to.

Desperately .

His lips were right there , barely a whisper away from my own. If the interruption had only come a few minutes later, even a few seconds later...

I shake my head at myself, unable to believe my thoughts. For days, all I’ve wanted was to reach the extraction point and fly away to safety. And now that our rescue is imminent, all I feel is hormone-driven disappointment. But at least I’m not alone—I saw the look on Zander’s face when we first heard the sound of the blades, his frustration as strong as mine. I would snort at our mutual absurdity if I wasn’t so focused on not tripping over my own feet as we dash through the last of the remaining trees.

And then, finally, they end, causing us to skid to a halt at the edge of a small, grassy clearing covered in native wildflowers. As stunning as the sight is, there’s something even more beautiful before us, something that makes me stop thinking about our almost-kiss and instead stifle a sob of relief.

The helicopter is here, dropping down from the sky to land softly among the flowers.

I turn to Zander, unable to keep the tears from my eyes, and equally unable to resist throwing my arms around him and laughing into his neck.

“We made it,” I breathe. “We actually made it.”

He picks me up and spins me around, laughing incredulously with me, our jubilation like a drug.

But then I sober as I remember?—

“Hawke and Bentley! We need to tell Scarlett!”

Zander releases my waist only to grab my hand, leading me in a crouched jog toward the helicopter, where the pilot is sliding open the rear door. I raise my free arm to protect my face from all the dirt and leaves the wind is kicking up, the space around us turning snowy from dandelions losing their fluffy white seeds. I’m sure I must look like a yeti by the time I reach the landing skids and hoist myself into the cabin—mostly because that’s what Zander looks like—but I’m too elated to do anything other than dust myself off quickly as I lean toward the front passenger seat, preparing to tell Scarlett everything that happened to us.

Only, she’s not there.

No one is.

I frown at Zander as the pilot slides our door shut and returns to the cockpit.

“Excuse me,” I shout over the engine, tapping the man’s shoulder to get his attention.

He turns and says something I can’t hear, so I cup my ear pointedly, prompting him to grab two pairs of familiar aviation headsets and pass them back to us.

Zander and I don them, and Zander instantly asks, “Where’s Scarlett?”

“Back at base, waiting for you,” the pilot answers around a mouth full of chewing gum. He fiddles with his controls, and a moment later we’re lifting off the ground. “I’ll have you to her in no time.”

“No, wait.” I unzip my pocket and pull out the map. “There was an accident. Hawke broke his ankle—he and Bentley need to be rescued.”

“I’m not authorized for a rescue,” the pilot says, popping a bubble. “I was hired with clear instructions to collect whoever was waiting in the clearing and bring you straight back. No detours.”

“But—” I halt my protest when Zander squeezes my hand.

“A few more minutes won’t make much of a difference,” he says in a calming voice. “And assuming Hawke and Bentley haven’t moved far from where we left them, it’s going to be tricky for a helicopter to reach them without proper planning. The forest is so dense that they’ll need to be winched out—and that’ll require a team of professionals who know what they’re doing.”

I blow out a breath, conceding his point. “It just feels wrong that we’re safe and they’re still out there.”

“I know,” Zander agrees, his brow furrowed with concern. “But we only need to be patient for a little longer, and then once we speak with Scarlett, she’ll send help straight away. They’ll be back with us soon, I’m sure of it.”

His confidence is a balm to me, and when he wraps his arm around my shoulders, I don’t hesitate to lean into him, finding comfort in his warm, steadying presence. A wave of exhaustion hits me as I rest my weight against him, all of the adrenaline that kept me alive over the last few hours—and days—fading now that it’s no longer needed, making it hard to keep my eyes open as I stare out the window at the passing scenery.

“You know what I just realized?” Zander murmurs into his microphone, sounding as tired as I feel.

“What?” I ask.

He’s looking out the same window as me when he answers, “We didn’t see a single koala. Or a kangaroo. I thought they’d be everywhere.” A small pout touches his lips. “Your country has false advertising.”

At the disappointed look on his face, a weary chuckle leaves me. “Be thankful we didn’t see one when we were with Hawke, or he probably would have made us eat it.”

Zander shudders against me, and I echo the motion. But then we both fall silent as we watch the trees and mountains and canyons and rivers sail by beneath us with hushed reverence. I can’t believe we were just down there, nor can I believe how many dangers we faced in the last four days. There were so many times we could have been killed, and yet, we survived. I wouldn’t wish what we went through on my worst enemy, but I can’t ignore the sense of pride and accomplishment I feel now that it’s over.

Or, almost over. We still need to get Hawke and Bentley to safety before I’ll be able to truly relax and consider our adventure complete.

“We’re making our final approach,” the pilot’s voice breaks into my thoughts as the mountains grow smaller and the forest thins out, with patches of civilization starting to become visible. I soon spot a road winding between the trees and wonder if it’s the one we drove along to reach the airfield on Tuesday morning.

“There’s a strong headwind,” the pilot goes on, “so buckle up and brace for a bumpy landing.”

I groan as I draw away from Zander to secure myself. “If we made it through four days of hell only to perish in a fiery helicopter crash, I’ll be really annoyed.”

“You and me both,” Zander murmurs, tightening the belt around his waist.

But aside from a few jerking dips of the aircraft when we reach the familiar grassy clearing, our landing is otherwise uneventful, enough that I can’t help asking, “Is that it?”

The pilot shrugs and pops another bubble. “Tell your people to give me a five-star review. I need the business.”

I’m unsure what to say to that, so I just unbuckle my seatbelt, remove my headset, and grit my teeth against the deafening sound of the engine as I wait impatiently for him to open our door. Once he does, I jump down onto the grass with Zander beside me, and only then do I look around properly, becoming instantly confused by what I see.

Or rather, what I don’t see.

The flurry of activity from Tuesday morning is gone; there are no black-clad crew members moving gear or looking at maps or inspecting equipment. And while that makes sense, since all of that was in preparation for the trip, I still expected there to be some of Hawke’s team milling about the now-empty hangars, ready to welcome their fearless leader back. Instead, the only thing in sight is a single dark vehicle with tinted windows and the same driver who delivered us here from the hotel four days ago.

“I thought you said Scarlett was waiting for us?” I shout to the pilot over the whirling blades.

I don’t think he hears me, because all he does is point toward the vehicle, before sliding the helicopter’s door shut and returning to the cockpit.

When it becomes clear that he intends to take off again, Zander and I hurry out of the way, keeping low as we run toward the hangars.

My stomach twists with apprehension as the helicopter leaves, and a million questions are on my lips when we reach the driver, but Zander gets in first.

“What is this? Where’s Scarlett? Gabe? Ember? Anyone? ”

I hadn’t even thought of Gabe and Ember, my mind too distracted by everything else. But Zander’s right—they knew we were returning today, so why aren’t they here to greet us?

“Miss Hart, Mister Rune, if you please,” the driver says calmly, opening the rear door and gesturing for us to enter. When we don’t move, he straightens his suit jacket and explains, “Ms. Quinn intended to be here in person, but something came up last-minute. She’s waiting for you at the hotel. I assume your friends are with her.”

It takes me a moment to remember that Scarlett’s surname is Quinn, and when I do, I’m even more confused. What could possibly keep Hawke’s executive producer from meeting him upon his return?

“I don’t like this,” Zander mutters beside me, and I nod my agreement.

“We can remain here as long as you wish,” the driver says. “However, I don’t have the information you seek, so might I suggest...” He gestures to the open door again.

Zander and I look uneasily at each other, aware that we have little choice unless we want to walk however far it is back to the hotel.

Warily, we enter the car, and the driver closes the door behind us. My eyes need a second to adjust to the darker interior, but when they do, the first things I see are the bottles of water in the center console, along with the protein bars. Zander notices them at the same time, and we snatch them up, him cracking open a water and tossing back its contents, while I shove a whole protein bar into my mouth, barely chewing before swallowing.

Only when we’re well on our way to Katoomba and have finished gorging and hydrating ourselves do we finally sit back and rub our satisfied stomachs. It might not have been a three-course meal, but it’ll keep us going long enough to reach Scarlett and share our news about Hawke and Bentley—news I’d hoped she would already know by now.

“This is weird, right?” I ask Zander quietly. “It’s not just me?”

“Definitely not just you,” he says, peering out the window. There’s a frown on his face as he watches the forest-lined road start to reveal houses at the outskirts of town, but it clears when he asks the driver, “Do you have a cell phone we can borrow?”

The man glances at us through his rearview mirror. “I’m afraid not.”

I share a look with Zander, before I clarify, “As in, you don’t have a phone, or we can’t borrow it?”

I get my answer when a ringing sound fills the car. I look at Zander again, both of us even edgier now, and I wonder if we’re going to end up on another kind of television show—the true crime kind. But the driver only answers his call politely and a moment later says, “Yes, I have them, Ms. Quinn.” Then, “No, no problems.” Followed by, “Uh-huh,” and “Mm-hmm,” and then finally, “We’re about five minutes away.” There’s one last long pause before he says, “Understood. I’ll deliver them as close to the entrance as I can get.” He then disconnects the call, his eyes returning to his rearview mirror as he tells us, “Ms. Quinn is waiting for you in the lobby along with your friends, Miss Ember Ashley and Mister Gabriel King. They’re all very eager for your reunion.”

My growing fears about being abducted vanish and I turn to Zander in relief, seeing the same expression on his face. But then I look through the window beyond him to see that the sun is beginning to set, and I nervously ask, “Do you think they’ll still send out a rescue in the dark?”

“It’s Hawke and Bentley,” Zander says, as if that’s answer enough. And maybe it is. He reaches for my hand, entwining our fingers as he adds, “They’re going to be fine. I promise.”

He has no authority to make such a promise, but once again, the reassurance in his tone soothes me and I allow myself to relax slightly, knowing we’re doing everything we can, and anything else is beyond our control right now.

But any peace I feel vanishes as we pass through the center of Katoomba and approach the hotel only to see what’s awaiting us.

No— who’s awaiting us.

Because it looks like the entire population of Australia is lining the street and the long driveway all the way up to the front doors of the hotel. The crowd is screaming and waving, most with their phone cameras pointed our way, many with painted signs that they’re holding above their heads saying things like MARRY ME, ZANDER! and I PRINCE TYRON! and I’LL BE YOUR QUEEN! among numerous other messages and requests.

“What on earth?” I breathe as I stare out the tinted windows.

Zander groans. “Hawke’s team must have started their early promo for our episode and revealed the location to build hype.”

Hype is one word for it.

I gape at the sight of so many people—so many fans. They’re all here for a glimpse of Zander, the enormity of his celebrity hitting me like a bucket of ice water. This is his life, his world . I can’t imagine what it must be like, living this reality day in and day out.

“Now we know why Scarlett couldn’t come to us,” Zander mutters, his lips pressing together as if he’s angry at himself.

But this isn’t his fault—he didn’t ask all these overzealous fans to come here, nor did he ask them to block the driveway, making us crawl forward at a snail’s pace to keep from mowing them down. My patience is growing thin, but our slow speed lets me read more of their signs, surprise hitting me when I see my name.

WE LOVE YOU, CHARLIE!

CHARLIE & ZANDER 4 EVA!

#ZARLIE HAS MY HEART!

“Zarlie?” I wonder aloud, before a quiet snort from Zander has me realizing, with no small amount of embarrassment, that we’ve been allocated a ship name. Our episode hasn’t even aired yet, and they’re already rabid for us.

“At least they didn’t go with Chander,” he says, chuckling. “That sounds like something a cat might vomit up.”

I send him an incredulous look. “How can you laugh at this? They’re shipping us, Zander. As in, romantically .”

His eyes are dancing as he replies, with unmissable meaning, “They’re not the only ones.”

My cheeks flame as I hold his gaze, our near-kiss blasting to the forefront of my memory. But before I can replay the moment properly—or return us to it in real time, now that there’s no incoming helicopter to interrupt us—the car rolls to a stop.

Zander glances past me out my window, his face turning serious. “Quick paparazzi lesson: head down, eyes ahead, don’t panic. In a different situation, I’d say you can answer any questions you’re comfortable with, or use ‘no comment’ for anything else, but since we’re in a rush to get to Scarlett, best to ignore them today. Okay?”

I barely get a chance to nod before my door is opened by a muscled hulk of a man, one of his hands indicating for me and Zander to exit the vehicle, while the other is stretched out to hold the crowd back. Another equally large man is doing the same just beyond the first.

The screaming reaches fever pitch as I leave the car, and it becomes impossibly louder when Zander slides out beside me. There are only a few feet between us and the front doors of the hotel, but the shrieking horde makes it seem like miles. Bright flashes go off, blinding me, and there are microphones being shoved in my face with reporters shouting questions. I can’t make out anything they’re saying, my mind freezing. My body, too. But then Zander’s arm curls around my waist and I turn to him, feeling instantly soothed by his presence. He smiles encouragingly at me—prompting even more flashes and squeals from the crowd—and guides me forward while the bodyguards clear our path.

It feels like hours but is really only seconds before we’re through the doors, the screams and shouts immediately muted, leaving my ears ringing in their wake.

I’m panting as if I’ve been running, and I wheeze out to Zander, “Your paparazzi lesson could use a few more warnings.”

“Are you all right? I know that was overwhelming?—”

“It’s fine, I’m okay,” I say, surprisingly meaning it. That was intense, but it was nothing I couldn’t get used to if we?—

My thoughts stumble to a halt when I see Scarlett standing in the center of the empty foyer waiting for us. There’s an odd, tentative smile on her face, but I ignore the alarm bells her expression raises in me and grab Zander’s arm, hauling him toward her.

Before we can make it two steps, a blur of motion has me looking to the left just in time to be tackled by my best friend. I stagger sideways, only managing to keep from falling because I slam into Zander.

“I’m sorry!” Ember wails, her arms so tight that I’m nearly choking. “I swear I had no idea! You nearly died! And Zander did die! I promise, I didn’t have any ?—”

“Em, what are you—” I don’t get to finish before I’m interrupted by another voice, this one deeper, and nearly as tremulous as my best friend’s.

“Charlie.”

I pull away from Ember, gaping at the sight of my stepdad standing before me, his green eyes welling with tears behind his glasses, his graying hair looking like he hasn’t brushed it in days.

“Jerry?” I’m too shocked to articulate more than his name.

The next second, his arms are around me.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl,” he whispers in my ear, holding me close. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you were all alone. I should have dealt with my grief better, not made you think I couldn’t stand to look at you. I have a lot to make up for, but you have my word that I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never feel abandoned like that again.”

I’m so stunned by his declaration—and his presence—that it takes a moment for me to realize there is something very wrong with what’s happening here. My alarm bells from when I first saw Scarlett are turning into blaring sirens as Ember’s words belatedly process, because what she said?—

I gasp and draw away from Jerry to ask her, through numb lips, “How do you know Zander died?”

The look on Ember’s face... for the first time in my life, I can’t read her at all. But I feel Zander’s hand wrapping around my elbow, feel the waves of shock and confusion emanating from him as he turns me toward the hotel concierge desk behind which a muted television is showing—showing?—

Showing us .

Right here, right now, standing in this very foyer.

I whip my head around, searching for a camera, but there’s nothing. I don’t understand what I’m seeing, don’t understand how I’m seeing it, or why , but before I can utter a single question, Zander’s grip tightens, his face flooding with disbelief as he looks toward Scarlett once again.

Gabe is beside her now, but he’s not the reason for Zander’s reaction.

No, it’s the two other people who have appeared, both smiling just as tentatively as Scarlett.

My blaring alarms become instant, deafening silence.

Because Hawke and Bentley are here.

And there’s not a broken bone in sight.