Page 66 of Delirium

“Can a donkey eat strawberries?” Nash grinned, but his smile fell when he looked at my face. “I’m going to give it my best shot, I swear. I’ve been in worse situations than this, and I’m sure I’ll be in worse yet.”

“I trust you. I’m just worried about James.” I glanced toward the cabin door, hoping I wasn’t speaking too loudly.

“I know.” Nash stroked my cheek, drawing my attention back to him. “Keep an eye on him while I’m down below, and get me if anything goes wrong, okay? I’m going to do my best to fix my mess.”

“You better.” I offered him the only smile I could, weak as it was.

Nash placed a light kiss on my forehead. “Thank you for believing in me. I love you. I swear it.”

I stood and watched him sprint down the stairs, hoping my faith wasn’t misplaced. I hoped he’d be able to fix it. I hoped James would be okay.

Camp’s door swung open once more, and he stood there with open arms, the reassurance I needed right now more than anything. As I stepped into his embrace I realized that James was right.

This entire trip hung on a hope and a prayer, but at some point, good vibes were going to run out. Luck only went so far.

At some point, we’d be on our own.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

CAMP

At this point, prison was looking pretty damn good. Did I want to go to prison? No. Did I really seem like the kind of person who could keep my mouth shut? Also no.

I’d be eaten alive in prison for nothing more than telling the truth, which didn’t really seem fair, but alas. Such was life.

But right now, being safe and contained within cement walls really seemed like a better option than being stranded in the middle of nowhere with no real prospects for escape.

The ironic part about it all was that technically, you shouldn’t even be able to get cabin fever in the middle of the rainforest. One of the cures for feeling trapped was getting lots of fresh air. Well, here I was, getting—excuse the pun—boatloads of fresh fucking air, yet still, I was drowning.

Nash needed to fix the motor. He had to. Scarlett hadn’t looked concerned when she entered my room after talking to him. Truthfully, she seemed more at peace than she had before. Of course, that meant fuck all. The woman currently resting on my knees flipping through the diary we’d found in the tents had the best poker face out of any of us. It helped when you knew what other people would look for in a lie.

As if she could read my mind, which truly wouldn’t have surprised me at this point, she squeezed my thigh, and peered up at me. “What’s on your mind?”

“Prison.”

Her eyes widened, and she blinked. “Well. That’s definitely a new one.”

I smirked, snatching the journal from her hands, placing it carefully on my bedside table. “Would you rather I lied to you? Told you I was thinking about making a banana rum cake with extra icing as soon as I got back home?”

Scarlett raised a brow. “Can you even make one of those?”

“I can.” I nodded solemnly. “It was the only cake my mother knew how to make. Figured if it was the only one she bothered to learn, it was probably worth me learning as well. Imagine my surprise when I got to university, only to find out most people hate banana rum cake with a passion.”

“I actually kind of like it.” She laughed, and the tension stiffening my muscles released the tiniest bit.

“Well then, I’ll make you one as soon as we get out of here. Screw the icing, we’ll double the rum instead.” I ran my fingers through her hair. She closed her eyes, resting her head on my leg. “I always found it funny how people couldn’t bake. It’s a science. You follow the steps, and voila, you have muffins. Cookies. A cake. Cooking on the other hand…cooking is an art.”

“I never thought about that,” she murmured. “But don’t try and change the subject. Why were you thinking about prison?”

“I was just thinking about how in an alternate universe, I’d probably be in prison right now. The company would probably be worse, but at least the situation itself would be a bit more stable. None of this,will Nash fix the boat, bullshit.”

Scarlett sat upright, frowning. “Probably be worse? So there’s a chance you’d prefer the company of your cellmates over me?”

“Shhh…You know that’s not what I mean.” I laughed, pulling her to my chest, grateful when she laughed, too. “I just really don’t want to go back into that fucking rainforest. I don’t want to go anywhere near that city again. Something was wrong about that place. It was like we disturbed something that didn’t want to be bothered.”

“I know. I felt it too.” She sighed. “Nash will fix the boat.”

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