Page 47

“You want to change?” I ask, not meeting her eye. I’m doing my level best not to think of her naked inside our tent at any point. “I can wait outside.”

She shakes her head. “I’m too cold. I’m sleeping like this. I just need to brush my teeth.”

We both climb in and I grab my toothbrush while she searches her backpack.

And then I hear her quiet, whispered oath. “Shit,” she says. “Shit.”

I turn. The contents of her backpack are spread all over the tent. For some reason she’s brought two sleeping bags and a pair of shoes that can’t possibly be hers. “You okay?”

“No,” she whispers. She buries her head in her hands, taking slow measured breaths, as if willing herself to calm. “Six moved our stuff. He put his sleeping bag in my pack, and he took my toiletry kit. My inhaler was in there.”

My stomach drops. We are eleven miles from civilization. No one has a cell signal. She’s already thought these things through, and right now she’s trying not to panic.

“It’s okay,” I tell her. I want to kill my brother, revive him, then kill him again but my voice is firm and calm. “You might not even need it.”

“What happens if I do?” She sounds breathless even as she asks the question.

I’m already planning, thinking. A part of me wants to get her out of here tonight. If we left the packs I could carry her, but that path along the cliff was treacherous on a sunny day. God only knows what would happen at night, especially if it’s storming.

“They must have a way to radio for help,” I tell her. It’s probably true.

She laughs, but it comes out sounding a bit more like a sob. “What good will that do? How long can I go without oxygen?”

My eyes squeeze shut. Fucking Joel. Fucking inconsiderate, useless, narcissistic Joel. How could he have done this? I want to rage at someone, but the only thing that matters right now is keeping her calm. If I can convince her she’s going to be fine, she might actually be fine.

I want her upright until her breathing is stable, so I move behind her and pull her against my chest.

“Here is our absolute worst-case scenario,” I tell her. My voice is measured, certain, almost bored. My heart is ticking like a bomb. “If you have an asthma attack and we can’t get it to stop, we call for help. If help is taking too long, I do an emergency tracheotomy. It’s not the ideal situation, but I have what I need. I’d just be placing a small hole in your trachea, and I’d use a hand vent to push you oxygen until help arrived.”

She laughs and sobs at once. “Having you perform makeshift surgery on me on the beach is a pretty bad worst-case scenario.”

“Nah,” I reply. “Believe me, I’ve dealt with worse.”

And I have, but it would terrify me because it’s her. I couldn’t live with myself afterward if something went wrong.

“I’d go with you in the helicopter,” I continue, “even if we have to go to Oahu because—I don’t know if you’re aware of this—medical care on the island isn’t great.”

She laughs, and this time I don’t hear any tears. She’s breathing again. I push our sleeping pads together and spread my open sleeping bag over them like a sheet.

“Come here,” I tell her, lying down and pulling her against my chest. She does, her small hand grasping the fabric of my shirt unconsciously, as if for comfort, while her body tucks perfectly into my side. She rests her head on my chest, just below my shoulder. I pull one of the other sleeping bags over us both.

“And then, once we’re back in Oahu and I’ve secured you a cappuccino and some Sour Patch Kids, I will ask you why the hell you’re dating my brother and you’ll explain it to me. I’m assuming there must be sorcery involved, as there’s no other logical explanation.”

The rain pelts the tent and she nestles closer. “Assuming I operate logically was your first error.”

Not checking to make sure she had her inhaler was my first error. Maybe she still has lingering faith in my brother, but I have none. I should have known he’d do something like this. I reach up and click the lantern off.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

My hand moves to her hip. “I’m not molesting you,” I tell her. “But I can’t sleep with my arm straight at my side.”

“That surprises me,” she says. “Not what I pictured.”

“I didn’t realize you pictured me sleeping.”

“It was only when I wanted to creep myself out. Mostly, I saw you posed like a corpse.”

I smile in the darkness. “So wishful thinking, then?”