Page 65 of The Last Lost Girl

She told me she needed to remember. That sleep could wait.

I wonder when she burrowed under my skin.

I itch to let her read what I wrote years ago. I want to admit that I’m not sure I can trust my own words. That I’m afraid the truth isn’t captured between the bound pages, but that all I’ve managed to scrawl is more of Peter’s lies.

Instead, I lean in closer. She doesn’t shrink away.

Her pulse pounds, her breathing shreds.

I close the distance between us and kiss her. It’s brief but feverish, and it ignites me when I had so hoped it might douse the feelings she somehow inspires. Her hands find my chest and her eyes ignite when her fingers find the metal piercing that encircles my nipples.

Basking in the glow of her surprise and want, I stand and stride toward the banquette and toss her journal onto it.

For a moment, I consider staying to finish what we just started. My body wholeheartedly agrees and doesn’t care that I don’t, and can’t, trust her. But my mind wants to know what she’s hiding and reminds me that she’s been in Tinkerbell’s care for years. That’s something I can’t ignore. I can barely stomach it.

I tell her to sleep and promise we won’t go ashore until she’s rested. When she finally gives in, I read every word she penned. The following words are Ava’s…

I tried to tell myself that everything would be okay. That we would just waltz into the trees, find Belle, and waltz back out. That somehow, I’d feel her and know which way we should go.

Such thoughts are nothing more than hopes, and Neverland is no wishing well.

I watched Surat and Kingston board the skiff and start toward Neverland’s deceptively beautiful beach. They were the first to leave the ship and the first to step ashore. From there, the ship would sail from west to east along the north shore, scattering Hudson’s crew in whatever place he’d chosen. The captain had a clear strategy, but I didn’t know how this could possibly be safe. With so many of us going ashore, the odds were high that someone would be discovered.

I asked Hook what kept Pan from positioning lookouts to watch for his ship so he and his Lost Boys could intercept anyone attempting to come ashore.

Hook and I stood at the rail and kept the two men in sight at all times. He leaned his forearms on the wooden railing and pondered my question, then replied, “Nothing. But as Pan can sense anomalies, they rarely worry themselves over it. The Lost Boys prefer to stick together than fan out.”

When I reminded him that Wraith was alone when he found me, he shook his head and explained that the Lost Boys would have left together and fanned out to cover more ground. Then he said there were probably other Lost Boys near enough to hear us, and if Wraith had been brave enough to yell, we might have had to fight our way back to the shore.

Wonderful. They hunt as a pack.

Smee stood nearby along the rail, carefully recording his crew mates’ names and drop-off points into a thick book. I asked him if he documented every time someone went onto the island, and he nodded and said, “We can track changes, and this way we won’t forget anyone.”

I looked out at the sea, my chest churning with emotion, and then glanced at Hook. I asked him how he knew his journal was right. I mean, what if something vital happened while he was on the island and he forgot it before he reached his ship and ink?

Something dark flashed in his eyes and I swallowed, fearing I’d upset him. “I have little other choice but to trust what I’ve written,” he replied.

Yet Cairo proved that sometimes, you shouldn’t trust yourself.

The ship moved slowly through the deep water, rocked by the waves, already cutting eastward toward the next drop-off point. Once Surat and Kingston were ashore, the unmanned skiff cut across the sun-splashed sea toward us.

Hudson studied the bending shore for several long moments, then called for Seoul, Rio, and Kauai. The men were lowered into the skiff. Each carried a burlap bag with a day’s necessities tied across their chests and at least one crude knife that I could see. I hoped they had more hidden away.

To blend in more readily and to avoid a situation like Cairo found himself in, the crew disembarked in twos – all but Seoul. Once ashore, he would peel away from Rio and Kauai and cut into the jungle’s heart on his own.

Seoul entered the skiff first and settled onto one of the benches alone, his back to the beach. He wore a charm on his wrist: a single golden coin hanging from a strand of dark, worn leather. The hole cut into the charm was rough and uneven. He superstitiously flicked it before raking fingers through his sleek black hair.

Rio was next. He wore a bright earring in one ear. He flicked his curve of gold like Seoul did, as if seeking reassurance.

Kauai settled beside Rio and twisted a flaxen ring on his finger. When he called out that they were ready, the small boat started toward the island.

I asked the captain how he would communicate with the others. If one group found Belle, how would the others know? Keeping his eyes on his friends as they aimed toward Neverland’s heart, all he would say was that we would regroup at dawn.

This man is so frustrating! I turned to him and asked where we would regroup, and for several moments, he remained quiet, his eyes unfocused as he stared at the backs of his crew. Then the captain’s head swiveled toward me and his green eyes seemed to spark. “You’re safe with me, Lifeguard.”

No idea why this man continues to call me Lifeguard or Precious when he knows my name is Ava, so I reminded him yet again. Then I asked him what would happen if we were separated, because I had a very real fear that I wouldn’t be able to find my way out on my own. But all he said was, “We won’t be.”

Never say never, Captain.

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