Page 52 of Delirium

“I’m a little fucking busy if you’re looking to guilt trip me.”

I looked over, catching Nash’s gaze. He gave me a brief shake of his head, paler than I’d ever seen him.

“What is it?” I asked. I didn’t think he’d be able to hear me, my voice sounding weak even to my ears.

But somehow, he did.

He looked right at me, sending the worst kind of shivers down my back, although he spoke to James. “I don’t think Clancy ran off with your money.”

James paused in his path of destruction, eyes narrowing. “What the fuck do you mean?”

Nash held up a leather satchel, all too similar to the one James carried, impractical for the rainforest. “I don’t think he would’ve run off without his laptop. Or his passport for that matter.”

“What the fuck?” James sprinted to the tents, and I followed close behind.

Camp still lingered, as if he was frozen, afraid to make another move and set off some kind of irreversible chemical reaction.

I had a feeling we had triggered one the moment we’d stepped ashore.

Hell, maybe the moment we steppedon the boat, we’d been on this path, a fixed point in time.

It only meant we had no control over whatever happened next—whether that was a comfort or a threat, I didn’t know.

Sticking my head into the first musty tent, I was hit by the overwhelming realization that nothing looked abandoned. The cot the worker had slept in was still made up, tidy. Their small duffel bag of clothes sat to one side, unzipped, but not rifled through. A battery powered lamp on a makeshift nightstand, an action book, a glasses case…all of it was hideously normal.

You shouldn’t be here.

Hideously normal, and yet there was no one here. They were just gone, leaving all traces of their life behind.

A wild roar escaped through the tent fabric. James was steadily losing any solid ground he’d previously had, any stability he’d enjoyed until this point was shaken.

What were we supposed to do?

I didn’t know if looking for men was the right call. Or if it was best to just cut our losses and leave. There was one thing I knew I needed to do next though, if not for my sake, for the sake of everyone else on the boat.

With one last look at the tent, I stepped out into thick air, briefly meeting Nash’s eyes. An entire conversation passed between us, without a single word being spoken.

We should leave.

I know.

He’s not well.

I know that, too.

But wasn’t it at our lowest point that we needed someone? Anyone, really. Someone to put our arms around, someone to tell us it was going to be okay, even if it was a complete and utter lie.

I stepped toward the roar, into the tent that held nothing but heartache and destruction, a decision I knew I had no control over.

James stood in front of a flipped cot, breathing heavily. Sweat soaked his entire back, leaving it clinging to the muscles roped across his shoulders. He had to have known I entered his space, but he stood still, back heaving with the effort of his breaths, until I placed a hand on his arm.

It was nearly imperceptible, but he relaxed under my touch.

“It’s not supposed to be like this, Scarlett,” he murmured, shaking his head. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this at all. We had a plan, dammit. We had a fuckingplan.”

He clenched his fists, muscles tensing all the way up his arms. When he looked down at me, his eyes were red, puffy with the effort it was taking him to hold back.

James’ reaction was merely the lightning before the storm. An entire tsunami of emotions brewed beneath his carefully polished surface, and one carefully placed blow would spill them out, uncontrolled.

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