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Shit.

I shift my gaze immediately and squeeze Maison’s hand. Not that I care. Micah can make out with whoever he wants. It’s just…. he’s barely looked at her for the past week, and I figured he lost interest. And I can’t help but feel it’s more to agitate Ezra than anything else at this point—or maybe even me. My cheeks heat at the latter.

Drawing my eyes to Ezra, I jump slightly when I see him staring right at me instead of watching Micah and Naomi like I assumed he would be. A dark, chilling stare in flickering firelight.

Jesus.

Maison’s hand rubs down my arm. “Ignore him. He pouts whenever he doesn’t get his way.”

“What is wrong with him?” I whisper, still watching Ezra, and his beady eyes not blinking.

Micah and Naomi disappear and a pit forms in my stomach. I’m aware of what they’ll do—he would have done the same thing with me if I had let him. That same mouth sucking on hers was sucking on mine, touching where he shouldn’t with his fingers. I’ll never understand how he can be so complacent with sex, like it doesn’t matter to him. It’s just… physical for Micah, completely void of any emotion.

Maison’s voice jolts me back as if he senses me watching him, like he knows the dark thoughts swirling in my head. “Ezra gets pissed at Micah. They’ve always had a bit of a rivalry, ever since we were kids. Micah is the team captain and always wins. The girls like him, our parents are richer, and he’s much better looking.”

I roll my eyes and can’t help but smile at the last comment. If Maison knows anything about Ezra’s parents going bankrupt because of his father, he says nothing.

He pulls me up. “Enough about Micah. They’ll get past it, they always do. Let’s go to bed, baby.”

I follow Maison to our little home and crawl in with him as he lights us a small fire outside our shelter. We pass Micah and Naomi on our way, and my chest tightens at the sight of them making out. It’s not like I haven’t seen the two of them kissing before, because I have—a ton since we got here. But now, I think I might be jealous, although I don’t want to admit it.

Chapter Twelve

Day Fourteen

Day Fourteen

If I can explain this island in one word, it would be quiet. The silence is almost as suffocating as the vast expansiveness that lays around us. Except at night, that’s when we hear the wolves. I woke up last night, terror erupted through me, and I cried out—screamed. A raw, horrific, blood curdling sound I didn’t know I was capable of. It hurt my throat for hours after. Panic, fear, dread, hunger. These feelings consumed me when I reached for Maison, who wasn’t there. When he came back to me, I could barely speak. I thought he was gone and I was alone. He had to calm me down after I shook for hours. Now I’m petrified to leave his side.

Everyone has retracted into themselves. In two weeks, the island left us as empty shells of ourselves. The weather is horrible—it rained the last two days—and except for fishing and trapping, we’ve all kept to ourselves. Maison’s the only optimistic one, like any moment an airplane will swoop in and save us. His optimism is why I’m falling for him. He will find a silver lining in anything, no matter how awful. Micah’s obsessed with keeping the fire going, hunting, making weapons, and just keeping us alive. He won’t sit down. He prowls the campsite like an ax murderer. He’s agitated all the time, and he won’t look at me. It’s like I don’t exist to him. But then again, Micah barely speaks to anyone. When we do make eye contact, I keep thinking about his hands on me, which only makes me feel guilty. Kissing Micah at the cove made me feel the way I did with Chris—where my body was alive, but my mind knew how wrong it was. Giving my body what it wants but nothing of what it needs. Making me feel so fucking alive it hurt. It hurt so much. And then… and then it ruined me.

We are going to die out here. Deep down, we all know that. If the world hasn’t found us by now, they are not going to. Any glimmer of hope I had was gone when Jade and Thomas left this morning. With winter coming, and with it the snow, ice, and darkness, we will have no hope until spring… if we make it that far.

Maison’s soft arm grazes over my stomach as I curl into him. His sweet smell of body wash tickles my nose. I smile as I shoot my eyes open and appreciate the closeness of him. The soft streaks of light tease the roof of the otherwise dark shelter, barely big enough for the two of us. I lose myself in Maison’s messy hair, his soft facial hair that now lines his chin and face, and his dark lashes that go on for miles when his eyes are closed.

The thing about the wilderness is we create our own schedules, and today I have no intentions of leaving this bed. Maison must agree since he won’t open his eyes, but I know he’s awake from the little smirk on his face. He lets me fuss over him, and I slowly wake him up with my hands, kisses, and soft strokes. It’s the same attentiveness he gives me that has me falling for him more with each passing day. I’m eager to have sex with him again and forget about Micah.

As I wake up, I realize something is wrong. My icy breath and crystals hang in the air, and the ground beneath me is colder than usual, despite all the insulation Maison built beneath us. I shiver, even though I’m under the blankets with his body heat, and looking at the ground next to us, I find a thin layer of white just beyond the opening. It brushes the ground with a soft, brilliant white.

“Maison,” I whisper, nudging his arm. “I think it snowed.”

His eyes open, and he shoots up. “Shit. It did. We should get up.”

I pull him back down to me and force his arm back to where it was on my belly. “No, we shouldn’t.” I kiss his nose. “Let’s not rush to get up. Micah’s just going to put us to work. I don’t want to deal with snow, and you’re so warm.”

My chest caves in on itself at the thought. Snow—and it’s only late September. My hand trails down his stomach and I push myself closer. It doesn’t take much to convince him to stay. I turn away from him, so my back is into him, and his erection presses right into me. We lie for a few minutes like this, and I think he’s fallen back asleep because of his soft snores. After a few minutes, I nudge him, anything to help me distract from what’s waiting for us outside.

“Maison?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Where would you have taken me?”

He shifts behind me. “What do you mean, pretty girl?”

“I mean, if we didn’t go on this trip, and the plane didn’t crash, where would our first date have been if you had given me the time of day at school?”

A pause, which is adorable. “I was going to ask you on a date during that interview you promised me.”