Page 76 of The Last Lost Girl

Hudson rolls his shoulders. “I talked to Smee about the shadows you first mentioned were missing from Evermist. His foremost theory is that Pan’s found a way to use them to track our movements.”

I really hope he’s wrong. Because if he’s right, there’s not a place on this island he can’t touch – this nest and every inch of island that stands between us and the sea included.

“The Lost Boys seem deranged. Not just like they’ve forgotten their past, but…” I shake my head. “I can’t describe it, but something is wrong with their minds. It’s like they’ve been twisted.”

Hudson’s face is grim. “They have been. Every time they die, they lose what little memory they were clinging to when they died. After he brings them back, Pan tells them whatever he wants them to think is true, and they believe him.”

“Grim said that Pan told the others I was the one who hurt Wraith.”

Hudson scrubs his face. “Yes, he did.”

I’m about to apologize for losing my sister when he beats me to it. “I’m sorry about Belle. The past year must have been difficult for you both.”

I clear my throat and look away. “You could say that.”

The scent of citrus drifts between us as I peel the fruit and hand half of the pulpy sections to him. Valiantly, I try not to watch him eat each one like some creep. In the end, I don’t leer. I only glance and observe.

Which is utterly ridiculous, but I seem to be powerless to fight the urge to watch him.

I grit my teeth and focus on my own fruit.

“Lifeguard,” he says. My eyes lift, catch on his lips, and rove up to his eyes. “May I see your watch?”

I suck my thumb into my mouth to rid it of the orange’s sticky juice and pull the chain up from around my neck.

“Don’t take it off,” he quickly adds. “In case I’m wrong.”

We stare down as the watch’s gears turn and flex with each lurch of the second hand. Hudson looks away from it and stares out into the distance.

I wonder if the sea is that way… or The Cove.

I drop the timepiece back underneath the neckline of my shirt – his shirt. His eyes track the motion. If I’m a neck girl, I wonder if Hudson might just be a breast guy.

Hudson lifts the soaked blanket, squeezes all the excess water he can from it into the thick mat of twigs, and spreads it out. “It’s wet, but it’ll be more comfortable than laying directly on the nest.”

“Much better. Thanks.”

He nods. “We should leave before dawn and make a beeline for the coast. The skiff will come when I call it and take us to the ship. We’ll have to be on guard, but it’ll be the best time to move.”

Especially if Smee’s right about Pan using the shadows to spy on us. “Okay.”

He scrutinizes the canopy, and I wonder if he’s ever felt comfortable, if he ever feels safe. “You should lie down and rest while you can,” he suggests.

I am utterly grateful for the sopping wet blanket separating my skin from the branches and especially from the bones jutting from this nest as I lay on my back and bend my knees, folding my hands over my stomach. “Shouldn’t you do the same?” I ask.

He hesitates like he might sit up all night and keep watch.

“We can take shifts,” I offer. Hudson looks at me like he’s seen a ghost. I raise up onto an elbow. “What?”

He shakes his head and scrubs a hand over his mouth. “It’s nothing.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m capable of listening and watching for trouble, you know.”

He smiles. “Why waste your time when trouble keeps finding you?”

I sink back down with a sigh. It’s true, unfortunately. I’ve said the same to myself time and time again. I pluck a gross little bone from the nest beside me and fling it at him. He sees it coming and quickly turns his head. It hits his shoulder, then falls onto the blanket.

The sky slips from blue to midnight in minutes and the twin stars go from being the only ones to grace the heavens to looking more like crown jewels set amid a million smaller stones. All sparkling. All beautifully arranged.

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