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“I got this when I was eleven. My dad loved to go winter camping and took Micah and I ice fishing. We snuck away, thinking we were hilarious. We thought it would be fun to explore in our snowshoes, but we got lost, and I fell through the ice. This is the scar I got when Micah jumped into the water and dragged me out.”

I press my lips together but let him finish the story as he lengthens his breath and continues, “We were stuck out there on the ice for two days. Micah refused to leave me alone, and I couldn’t walk or move. By the time we were found, we were both nearly dead.”

“Jesus, Maison.”

This must be a living nightmare for them both.

“Micah never really got over it. He still has PTSD, and he hates talking about it. He still needs medication to control it, but he quit taking it years ago. He just suffers through it.”

My breath catches at the thought of the two of them stranded like that as children. I also remember Micah’s fight response, the fire in his eyes with Ezra and the way Maison tried to calm him. “And you don’t have PTSD?” I ask him.

“I don’t recall much of it, to be honest, though I was unconscious for most of it. I just appreciate my life now and enjoy being alive. I choose to be happy and try to forget about it. I’d rather focus on the nice things in life, not just the nasty memories. Micah remembers everything, though. He kept me alive for those two days, and I owe my life to him. I think he replays it in his mind constantly.”

That explains their bond—the weird way Maison seems to resent him, yet remains so loyal.

“So the survival skills?”

“That’s just Micah. He never wanted to be weak like that again, so he spent years in the wild—learning it, conquering it, just like he does with everything he cares about. It’s part of his illness, but it’s also his obsessive personality. It’s the same way he is with hockey. So we need him, London. He’s our lifeline out here, even if he’s a complete dick about it.”

I let out a long sigh. “He’s just not good at being nice to people. He can work on improving that.”

I don’t miss the flash in his eyes—the hurt and betrayal that lingers whenever he speaks about his twin. Whatever happened with Olivia that broke them. But I also see glimpses of them. The blinding, unconditional love of brotherhood. Things aren’t too far gone that they can’t fix what’s between them.

My eyes grow heavy again, and pure exhaustion takes over. Maison doesn’t offer me any more information and I don’t ask. He’s told me enough—

Olivia died because of something Micah did, an episode he had perhaps? This confirms it. His illness takes over him. Micah’s dangerous and I should stay away from him. But this boy in my arms is someone I don’t want to stay away from, and Maison also has a role in all this. I need him to tell me what it is in order for me to fully trust him. My original goal remains intact. Besides trying to keep myself alive, I will find out what really happened between the three of them. I need to know, especially because I want nothing more than to keep kissing Maison Matei.

Chapter Nine

Day Three

For now, the beach is our home. Micah tracked us down with the ‘breadcrumbs’ we had left and brought Thomas and Nathan with him. The others stayed to wait until they returned with further instructions. Micah was pissed—as Maison knew he’d be—but he couldn’t deny how much nicer this spot was than the fly-infested airplane, especially with what is rotting so close to us at the other site.

Colton died last night, just leaving Jess and James. I feel horrible for not being there, and for what I was doing instead, giving myself that one minute of pleasure. Nathan said he wasn’t alone, that James stayed with him the entire time. The discussion now is what to do with Jess, whether we should just end her suffering. She’s holding on by a thread, and James refuses to leave until she’s gone. I doubt James can make this trek yet, although Nathan says he’s doing much better. Until the situation changes, half of us will have to stay there.

So we’ve split…

Plane Group: James, Nathan, Ollie, Serena, and Jess.

Lake Group: Micah, Maison, Ezra, Thomas, Naomi, Jade, Nigel, and London.

Serena is staying back with her friend Jess, and she truly believes whoever is searching for us will have a better chance of finding us at the crash site. She may be right, but we’ve been stranded in the northern wilderness for three days with no signs of civilization beyond our group. No roads, no electricity, no humanity anywhere. I don’t believe they know where we are or how to find us. We need to come to terms with the fact that nobody is coming. So we’ve split the supplies for the time being, except for the food. Micah said he’d cut the hand off anyone who touches the non-perishables. I don’t think he’s joking, either. He says we need the food to survive in winter and must learn to live off the land until then. I hope that day never comes. Luckily, the lake we found has plenty of fish, and this part of the island is much prettier than where we were.

“That wood is not going to work for a fire,” Micah barks at Jade and me as we walk up with an armful of kindling. He comes out of nowhere to inspect the pile we’ve spent the last hour gathering in a spot next to what will be our primary fire, as opposed to the fire we will only use to cook food a bit aways away. It was the one job Micah gave us, while the guys gathered other materials and supplies to build shelters. Micah and Thomas went back to the airplane to gather more stuff—suitcases and a few of the supplies. It will take lots of trips, but Micah used it as a chance to check on how the others are doing. They immediately went to assist the other boys with the building of shelters upon their return.

I glare up at him. “What’s wrong with it?” We are in the hottest part of the day, the northern late summer sun like rays of fire on my skin, even with the crisp air around me. I’ve had very little water since the one he spared me the day before, so I’m in a rather shit mood.

He tilts his head, giving me his predatory gaze. “For one, it’s wet,” he kicks at it with his shoe before he glares at the large branch in Jade’s arms, “and you’re using a fir tree instead of birch like I told you. If you can’t get birch, then look for spruce or aspen. Just make sure it’s fucking dry or we will not have a fire at all.”

Jade flushes, unlike the silent rage I feel burning under my skin. I understand Micah better now, but that doesn’t justify his mean attitude. Right now, we are all dealing with being out here, and he’s not special.

“We’re doing what we can, Micah,” I snip back at him.

He ignores me and bends to inspect the pile further. The wood we found has a mossy, slick texture.

Naomi walks up carrying an armful of dry kindling and smiles at him as she places it down then looks at me and smirks like she’s won some sort of competition. She’s cleaned herself up, as everyone has. Her hair is pulled back in her trademark ponytail, and she looks natural, clean for once, without all her makeup caked on.

We had decided to split up to cover more ground, also because I’m not sure Naomi knows how to deal with me yet. I’m sure I’m the last person she wants to be stuck on an island with.