“And the salt water will do that?”
“Who the hell knows?” I threw my arm over her shoulders. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we? Now, let’s go find G and play with fish bones.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
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G A L L O W A Y
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EIGHT WEEKS
WAS IT POSSIBLE to hate everything but be grateful at the same time?
I hated clams, but I loved them because they fed us.
I hated the evergreen-tainted water from the trees, but I loved every droplet because it quenched my thirst.
I hated the sand, the sun, the waves, the island, the calendar on Estelle’s bloody phone marking every day we’d been missing, but I loved them all because I was alive to see them.
And I hated Estelle...but I loved her, too.
Damn curse.
Damn woman.
I’d done what I’d promised and locked away every desire and craving I had for her. I treated her like the best friend I never had. I went out of my way to be kind and courteous and how did she repay me? By watching my every move with lust dripping from her pores. She licked her lips if I stripped in the hot sun. She sucked in a breath if I accidentally brushed past. Her body sent message after message to take her.
She infected my dreams, my thoughts, every damn moment.
It wasn’t fair.
I suffered a permanent case of blue balls and deliberately sat farther and farther away from her at meal times and during chores around the camp.
But it didn’t help.
There was no ignoring the heat in her gaze or the begs in her body.
But she’d told me no.
And until she told me yes, she could keep staring, keep hurting both of us. I’d tried to make her accept me, and she’d turned me down. If she wanted me...it was her turn to do the grovelling.
Conner groaned as his spear flew sideways down the beach. If the kid wasn’t in the ocean hunting fish, he was on the sand practicing.
Today was no different.
My leg itched and I wanted the splint off. If I were honest, I’d wanted it off the day Estelle had put it on. But I didn’t dare remove it. I was too chicken to see if the break was still abnormally crooked.
I’d become used to estimating the time with the placement of the sun, and I guessed it was threeish. Estelle and Pippa had disappeared to find firewood, and I was sick to death of plaiting rope for a house I still wasn’t physically ready to build.
Screw it.
Hauling myself up, I grabbed my walking stick. Last week, I’d chopped my crutch in half so I could use it as support rather than a second leg. I’d disposed of the end, keeping the bulbous root for a convenient handhold.
Hopping toward Conner, I was grateful the sharp pain had turned to an aching throb and was tempted to put more and more weight on my ankle.
Don’t be an idiot.
In my heart, I knew it hadn’t healed. If I rushed it...it would only backfire.
Conner swiped his long, sun-turned hair from his eyes as he jogged to collect the spear and return to his starting spot. He frowned as I patted him on the shoulder and kept hopping toward the water’s edge. “Come on. I have an idea.”
He immediately ran after me. Shirtless, his chest had filled out, straining to become a man even on limited food. “Hunting?”
“Yep.”
“But the fish aren’t around at this time. They’ll be back to feed in an hour or two.”
I smirked. “Been staring at them so long you know their dates and appointments, huh?”
He scowled. “If only that knowledge came in handy and let me catch the bastards.”
“Language.”
He snickered.
I let him swear. After all, if we couldn’t curse here...where could we? Estelle and her need for verbal purity be damned. “Well, let’s try for something else.” The thought of a cheeseburger with all the trimmings once again tormented me. I missed flavour. I missed lemon zest and mayonnaise. I missed garlic and barbecue sauce. Everything that made boring food awesome was missing in our bare essential pantry.
My crutch sank into the wet sand as I traded dry land for lapping waves. Wriggling my toes in the water, I glared at the turquoise sea. Our turquoise prison. “Let’s see what else we can find.”
“Like what?” Conner splashed beside me. He’d become part water nymph with how much time he spent in the salty realm.
I shrugged. “Not sure.”
His eyes fell on my splint. “Can you swim with that?”
He knew the answer already. We’d been on this island for two months, and I’d yet to wade out of the shallows because I couldn’t kick with the cumbersome weight.
His voice lowered. “Do you think you should rest it more? I mean, you’ve never just lay down and let us do the work. What if it’s not fixed—”