“Yeah?”
“The only thing I have to say right now isthankyou.”
“Oh.” My cheeks flame. “Well. Whatever. It’s just a few mussels. No bigdeal.”
“I don’t just mean for dinner.” His throat muscles convulse. “Thank you for making a place that could be pure hell feel a bit like…home.”
With that, he dives into his dinner. I sit stock-still, processing those words, but after a moment the smell of the mussels hits my nose, my stomach makes its impatience well known, and I dig in. There are no spices or seasonings, no butter or garlic, no slices of toasted bread to eat them with, like Mom and I used to back home in thesummertime…
Still, I swear it’s the best dinner I’ve everhad.
We feast like kings, until our stomachs are near to bursting and the sun has dipped below the horizon. Appetite sated for the first time in days, I slump back on my pallet with my elbows braced behind me and stare up at the night sky. I can’t pick out a single constellation in the blanket of brilliant stars. The unfamiliar celestial map only adds to the sensation that I’ve somehow washed ashore on a whole new planet, rather than a newhemisphere.
I hear the metallic sound of a cap twisting and look over in time to see Beck take a swig of whisky. Feeling my attention on his face, he extends the flask in my direction. I’m pulled instantly back to another moment in the dark, on a private plane flying through a turbulent storm, when the same stranger offered me a swallow to settle mynerves.
I turned him down flat,then.
This time, I don’t hesitate as I clasp my fingers around the smooth metal of the flask and lift it to my lips. The alcohol burns a fiery path down my throat, then pools in my stomach like a warm cup of tea. Heat sinks into my bones, radiating from the inside out. It’s my first sip of whisky, and I enjoy it far more than I ever would’ve anticipated. I badly want to take another sip, but as I test the half-empty flask’s weight in my hands, I know we need to ration the rest for Ian. When he regains consciousness, he’ll need it far more than Ido.
With a regretful sigh, I pass it back to Beck before I can change my mind. “Thanks.”
His eyes move over my face, as though I’m a puzzle he’s struggling to work out. “You know, you’re incredibly responsible, for…” He trailsoff.
“For what? Agirl?”
He pauses. “No. I was going to say for someone soyoung.”
“Oh.” I blush. “Well, I’m notthatyoung.”
“How old are you?” The softness of the question does nothing to detract from the intensity with which itsasked.
“Younger than thirty, you old geezer,” Ijoke.
He doesn’t laugh or smile. He’s curiously still, his gaze searching. “You don’t want to tellme.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I snort, avoiding his stare. “I just don’t see what the big deal is. Age is only a number,right?”
“And that number wouldbe…?”
I bite mylip.
“Twenty-three?” he guesseslowly.
I shake myhead.
“Twenty-two?”
Anothershake.
I hear a sharp intake of air. “Christ, if you tell me you’re not even legal todrink…”
My eyes lift to his. “We’re stranded on an island. I don’t think the legal drinking age applies. Plus, we’re not even in the US anymore, sotechnically—”
“Violet.”
My excuses dissipate when he says my name. “Yeah?”
“Just tellme.”