“I was thinking, tomorrow, we should start collecting wood for a new cabin. Maybe this time we should build it closer to the caves. The beach on that side isn’t as pretty as this one, but it’s definitely more sheltered. If another storm comes, we’ll be saferthere.”
Beck issilent.
“Hello?” I wrinkle my nose at him. “Did you hearme?”
“I just don’t think we need to start rebuilding yet. I stillthink…”
“That help is coming?” I say, voice a bit sharper than I intended. I soften it before adding, “I know you believe someone is on their way as we speak, but maybe it’s time to facereality.”
Brows lifting, he stares at me for a beat. “You’re the one who’s been telling me since day one that I need to have hope. That I need to believe, in spite of the odds, some things actually workout.”
“Andyou’rethe one who told me to stop thinking that way!” I throw back at him. “I believe your exact words were,you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that this story might not have a happyending.”
“That wasbefore.”
“Before what?” I yell, exasperation bleeding into mytone.
“Before I fell in love with you!” He yells right back. “Before everything changed! Before you taught me that some things are worth fighting for, worthdyingfor.”
“I don’t…” I shake my head. “Ican’t…”
“Violet.Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. You haven’t been yourself since that ship washedashore.”
“I’mfine.”
“You aren’t fine. You’re distant. You’re distracted. You’re even sad. But you’re definitely notfine.” He runs his hands through his hair, at a loss. “The thing is, for the life of me I can’t figure out why. Seems to me, the possibility of getting off this damn rock — therealpossibility, not some faint flicker of a mirage on the horizon — should be something you’re a little more investedin.”
I try to conjure a denial, some sort of distraction to keep him from seeing through me to the shameful truth, but it’s too late. He knows me too well. He cares about me too much to let this slide without unearthing the source of mydiscontent.
“Beck…” I start. Horrifyingly, I can’t get out more than his name before emotion overwhelms me. Burying my face in my hands, tears explode from my eyes. I try to staunch their flow, but it’s nouse.
“Shit! Violet!?” A few seconds later, Beck is at my side, his arms sliding around me. His mouth hits my temple. “What’s the matter? Are you okay? Are youhurt?”
Hurt.
What an inconsequential word to describe such afeeling.
“No, I’m not hurt,” Imurmur.
“Then what is it? Tellme.”
I shake my head. “Ican’t.”
“Violet. You can tell me anything. You know that bynow.”
Looking up at him with watering eyes, I force out the words that have been haunting me for days. Words that have been tearing my insides to shreds since the instant I spotted that sailboat. Words that claw up my throat and threaten to burst forth every time he turns on that damn radio and starts topace.
I can’t hold them in anylonger.
“I don’t want togo.”
His face flips through a series of expressions so fast I can hardly keep up. Confusion. Rage. Disbelief. Sadness. Shock. Love. When he speaks, his voice is carefullyempty.
“What did yousay?”
“I said I don’t want to go!” I reach up and dash the tears from my eyes, pulling out of his arms in one violent gesture. “I don’t want to leave theisland.”
“How can you say that?” He sounds baffled. “Violet, you’re not thinkingstraight.”