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“Nothing, it’s just…” I wipe my hand over my mouth, unsure how to put this into words. “You say that you trust me, and yet, the very reason I’m on this island is because I’munsafefor my two-year-old daughter. I didn’t take care of her.” My voice breaks.
Skyler stills, and finally seems to be able to meet my gaze for more than just a split second. He searches between my eyes, studying me intently. Then—
“See this scar?” he blurts and lifts our joined arms, and I find my gaze dropping to the patchy discoloration stretched out across the inside of his wrist. “I got it trying to cook dinner for myself. I was five. My mother was on a business call, and she forgot to feed me.”
My eyes flare, molars mashing.What the fuck?
“And you know what she did? She yelled at me. Blamed me for hurting myself. And as soon as she got me cleaned up and heated up some leftovers, she left me alone in the kitchen to eat while she returned to her business call.”
Slowly, I look back up at his face. How…
How could anyone fucking do that to their own kid?
“What you did was…bad. Yeah.” He nods. “But my mom…she doesn’t have a disease. She didn’t feel bad. She didn’t beat herself up over it, or try to fix her behavior so nothing like that ever happened again.”
I grit my teeth together, anger and heartbreak for a child I never met ripping me apart from the inside.
“You’re not a piece of shit, Nolan,” he tells me point-blank. “I told you in the cave, remember? You’re here, aren’t you? Well past the time you should’ve already been home with your daughter. You messed up, yes, but you’re clearly doing everything you can to fix it.”
Emotion swells my throat, making it impossible to speak.
“Do you know what the name Abigail means?” he says out of nowhere.
I shake my head, a buzzing replacing the waves in my ear. But none of it is loud enough to drown out his next words.
“It means a father’s joy, Nolan.”
I stare at him.
And stare at him some more.
“You’re not the villain you make yourself out to be either,” he says gently, a small knowing smile curving his lips.
A long moment passes where we both just look at each other, almost as if we’re both seeing each other with new eyes.
Or at least, it’s like I’m seeing him for the first time. Maybe he’s seen me this whole time, and I just couldn’t wrap my head around it until now.
He might be young—definitely too young for me—but I remember what he said that day we first officially met, in group, when he made that vague, but pointed statement about the law only recognizing that he’s an adult now.
I barely know him, and from the little I do—from what he’s told me, what I just witnessed—something tells me I’ve barely scraped the surface.
Something tells me I’ve underestimated him.
Working my jaw, I consider what I’m about to do. What floodgates I’m about to open.
Out there, in the real world, I’ve no doubt some circles of people would condemn this.
But here, on the island, exiled from all we know and hold dear…
What’s stopping us from making the best of a shitty situation?
Neither of us are here on our own terms. But this…us…
It’s all ours. Only ours.A secret…
And heiseighteen.
He’s giving his consent.
