“Congratulations, Grant,” I said, checking for more insects. “You called it. I am officially the girl who freaks out over beetles.”
At least I didn't throw myself into a gorge. He'd probably shake his head and say,'I told her so,'while they identified my body.
When I was satisfied I'd removed all the creepy-crawly trespassers, I straightened and spotted something glittering near the tree line. I almost sacrificed whatever it was to the jungle until I recognized the golden heart shape.
My lucky earring.
It must have come loose during bug-gate. The pair had seen me through every high and low. They were a gift from my parents before they died, along with a promise that the hearts would always guide me toward love. I couldn’t lose them now when I was so far off love's path that a satellite in space couldn't find me.
The little gold charm seemed to wink at me from a patch of moss just out of reach. I crouched, stretching… I almost had it.
And my foot slid.
The moss gave way beneath me, and suddenly I was skidding down the slope, dirt and loose rocks tumbling with me. I landed hard at the bottom, my pack thumping against my shoulder. The air left my lungs in a giant whoosh.
Pain shot up my ankle when I rolled and tried to stand, forcing me back down into the mud. I pressed my fingers into the bruised skin and winced. Not broken, butdefinitely twisted.
I stared up at the bank and groaned. The climb looked twice as steep from down here, the slick earth taunting me, knowing I’d never make it back up on my own.
“Great,” I said aloud to the empty ravine. “I survived the beetle and fell into a gorge anyway. Nobody tell Grant.”
***
I belted the chorus toDeck the Halls, freezing rain pelting the pack over my head, making it the world’s saddest umbrella. I’d already worked my way through half the carols I knew. But unlike a fairy tale princess, no woodland animals had shown up to my rescue.
My arms trembled, and I dropped the pack, hugging it to my chest. I leaned against the slippery embankment, letting the rain wash over me, soaking what was already drenched. The phone in my pocket was a useless brick, and my ankle throbbed like it had its own heartbeat.
I wasn't going anywhere, either. The climb out was slicker than a bobsled track. I’d tried twice, sliding back down each time. My hair stuck to my face, mud streaked my knees, and the absurdity of it all just hit me.
This was not how my big magic reset was supposed to go. Sunbelt’s witchy meet-cute maker wasn’t supposed to die single and soulmate-less, in a muddy hole in the middle of the jungle, while singing off-key Christmas carols to the snakes.
It was too tragic for words.
But I was overreacting. I wasn’t going to die and end up a cautionary tale in a survivalist documentary about the importance of bug spray. I had water and a stash of granola swipedfrom the breakfast buffet. Sage knew where I’d gone. When I didn’t return on time, she’d send help.
All I had to do was stay put so the rescuers could find me. They’d send a team into the storm like survivalist heroes, wouldn’t they?
No, of course not. They’d wait until the storm passed. Safety first, as they should.
Which meant I was stuck. All night, maybe.
I should’ve asked Grant more about the weather instead of accusing him of making small talk. He’d probably had a whole Doppler monologue queued up. Was the storm passing through, or settling over the island for days? Was it monsoon season? I dropped my head into my hands and let a tired sob escape.
Swiping at my wet cheeks didn’t matter; who knew what was rain and what was tears? Everything was wet, and so cold I was convinced I’d be the first tourist to get hypothermia in the tropics. With a grumble, I went back to my carols—putting theFaback into theLaas loud as I could.
“Valerie! Where are you?”
My head snapped up. For a second, I thought I was hallucinating Grant’s voice. Except he didn’t usually sound so hoarse… or so worried.
“Down here!” I called back, recoiling when I put weight on my ankle.
A moment later, his face appeared over the edge of the ravine. Rain had plastered his hair to his forehead. He looked storm-wrecked, lightning flashing behind him like he was the Boogeyman and not a savior in a teal raincoat. I laughed, certain I was delirious, which only made his features harden.
“This isn’t funny, Spells! I’m planning to murder you after I get you back up here.” He scanned the slope, searching for handholds.
“I know. You look like a monster with that lightning behind you. I’d run, but I twisted my ankle.”
He muttered something lost to the wind and found a thick root near the top, then swung himself down. His boots skidded on the wet earth, sending a spray of mud toward me.
