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His attention drifts to the coconuts and the fish I cooked earlier this morning.
I don’t want to gloat, but goddamn, the surprised look on his face has me wanting to break out into a victory dance. “I fished. I finished the SOS signal. I looked after you. That’s what the past five days have consisted of.”
He’s at a loss for words because he’s not used to being helpless and not in control. I’m expecting a thank you, or even a pat on the back, but I don’t get anything warm and fuzzy. “I need to wash.”
I can’t hide my disappointment.
He methodically removes my arm and comes to a slow stand. He’s unsteady on his feet, but he uses the wall to keep upright. I peer up at him, anger rising. Nice to know me saving his life has softened him up—not.
“Do we have any soap or toothpaste left?”
I gesture with my head to where it sits, which just happens to be near his journal. His head snaps my way, but I smirk. “Don’t worry, I didn’t read it. I didn’t have to,” I reveal. “I already know what a heartless bastard you are.”
I shoot up, needing to put some space between us. I don’t know why I’m so angry. I guess I was expecting at least some form of acknowledgment for not leaving him to die. But even skating with death doesn’t seem to trouble the calloused Saint.
He doesn’t bite back, but instead, he hobbles toward the exit.
I refuse to stay holed up in here, so I push past him and take three deep breaths as I step outside. My temper is raging because I am angry with myself for giving two shits about him. I think about the sorrow I felt at the thought of losing him because he doesn’t seem to care either way.
The sun scorches me, adding to the heat coursing through me. I decide to go for a swim as there isn’t anything else to do on this fucking island. As I’m halfway down the hill, I hear a pained grunt.
Do not turn around,I repeat over and over, but it falls on deaf ears when I peer over my shoulder to see Saint bent in half, clutching his side.
Good. The sight of him in pain should give me satisfaction. It doesn’t.
“Goddammit,”I curse to myself as I turn around and march the way I came.
The closer I get to him, the more evident it is that he’s in severe pain. His breathing is labored, and he looks a ghastly shade of white. When he sees me pacing toward him, he attempts to stand upright but only manages a stooped stance.
I don’t bother talking. Instead, I wrap my arm around his waist, hinting for him to lean on me. When he struggles, I tighten my hold on him with an annoyed sigh. “Stop being such a stubborn son of a bitch and let me help you.”
My tone reveals this isn’t negotiable. He finally caves and sags against me.
My knees almost buckle because he is so heavy, but I loop his arm around my shoulder so I have a better grip on him. We then commence our slow stagger down the hill. We both remain quiet. Even though I’m helping him, it doesn’t mean I want to talk to him.
Once we arrive at the pond, I release my hold on him slowly. He is shaky on his feet, but he stays standing, leaning against the tree trunk, catching his breath. He drops his clean clothes on the ground and unfastens the button on his pants.
That’s my cue to leave. “Don’t drown,” I quip, turning to leave. But I’m stopped in my tracks.
“Where are you going?”
I clear my throat, trying to mask my embarrassment. “You’re dreaming if you think I’m going to scrub your back.”
A smirk tugs at his lips. My insides do a little happy dance at the sight. “Just don’t go too far away, okay?”
An eyebrow raises higher than the other. “Why not? I’ve survived just fine without you. I don’t need you telling me what to do.”
Saint groans in annoyance. The sound is music to my ears.
I don’t bother waiting around for him to bark any more orders and turn around, leaving him to wash in private. I can’t shake the winner’s grin as I make my way toward the beach.
Stripping out of my shorts and tank, I venture into the water, sighing as the temperature is perfect. My anger simmers, and I enjoy the quiet as I swim into the depths.
Now that Saint is awake, I wonder what happens now.
We are days away from depleting the medical and toiletry supplies. Not to mention our diet needs something more than fish and coconuts. I wonder how long someone could survive stranded on an island.
Our fresh water is almost out, and I have no idea when we will get another downpour to replenish our supply. Not to mention Saint is still in a lot of pain. He’s susceptible to other illnesses now that his immune system is so weak. And what about sepsis? Surely, he’s at risk of this as well.
