Page 103 of Adrift

“Yes,” I gulp.

Chapter 41

Scuttle

Calvin

My knuckles hurt like hell. I shake my hand out, trying to disperse the sting. Easton’s eyes blaze with a mix of anger and something else I can’t quite place. He comes at me, his feet tearing up the dirt trail. He’s fast, I’ll give him that, but not as fast as me. Ever since he stepped onto theRock Candy, smug and self-assured, I’ve been itching for a reason to wipe that arrogance off his face. His smirks drive me fucking bonkers, like he’s flaunting everything he has that I don’t. I don’t give a shit about his gold medals.

But he’s easy to fight. I dodge him, and he goes flying past. “Did Daddy forget to teach you how to fight?”

“Fuck you.” He spits out some blood and runs at me headfirst. We’re close, and there’s no getting around him this time. I brace myself, but we still go sailing backward into the scrub next to the trail. Arms and legs flying, our bodies are snarled up together like two thorns on a bush, pulling at its own branches.

“Get off me, Swimmer Boy.” I shove at him, but he’s heavier than he looks. He gets up and stumbles back. But I don’t move. I need to not kill the fucker. Which right now is going to be one of the toughest things I’ve ever done. Marring his perfect face makes me fucking happy.

“What? Can’t get up? The giant is brought to his knees. How fitting. What’s Haley going to think?” He laughs, and killing him doesn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore.

I stand. “Fuck you.” He’s all talk, thinks he can have anything he wants, say anything he wants. But this time, he’s crossed a line. Talking about my brother, saying he doesn’t like me? Haley’s name on his breath is like a dagger to my soul. He doesn’t know a damn thing. The rage bubbles up inside me, a fiery torrent I can barely control.

I lunge forward, my fist connecting with his shoulder. I flinch at the impact—not from the pain but from the raw emotion that courses through me. The memory of my brother, his betrayal with my ex-girlfriend, their child—it’s all a tangled mess in my head, fueling my fury.

Easton stumbles back, his face contorted in surprise and pain. He’s not used to being on the receiving end. But he quickly regains his footing, his eyes narrowing. “Is that all you’ve got, you dumb oaf?” he sneers, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip.

The taunt hits me like a physical blow. My breath comes in short-sharp gasps. The surrounding jungle seems to close in, the air thick and heavy. I can hear the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore, a stark contrast to the chaos of our fight. But with Haley out of sight, I don’t care what I do to this silver-spooned asshole.

I charge again, driven by a mixture of pain and anger. Our bodies crash together, a tangle of limbs and raw emotion. His elbow jabs into my side. It stings even as I move for a better hold. We’re both grappling for dominance, but it’s about morethan just physical strength. It’s about hurt, betrayal, and the unspoken words that hang heavy between us.

As we fight, the world fades away. It’s just him and me, our grunts and gasps the only sound in the dense jungle. Sweat and dirt build on our skin. We’re tromping down the path—the low ferns around us are flattened. The sweet smell of plants, dirt, and rain mix, reminding us of how far away from home we are.

Easton’s hand gets wrapped up in my shirt and the seam tears away, leaving my stomach exposed. He stares at it for a second, the cloth hanging down to my side. We’re evenly matched. I’m bigger, but he’s fucking fast. He weaves to the right. He lands a good punch to my gut. “Fuck.” I step back, and he gives me a second. We’re no longer trying to kill each other. No, this is now more about trying to get out some of our anger. “Good hit.”

“Henrick Schmidt.”

“What?” Did I hit him too hard? I’m confused.

“My dad didn’t teach me to fight. But mid-weight boxing silver medalist Henrick Schmidt did.”

I nod, catching my breath.

“Dad never had time to do anything with me. Henrick and I both had a week after our events were over until the closing ceremonies. I taught him how to control his breathing while swimming, and he gave me some boxing pointers.”

I nod again, looking down at my feet, and the next thing I know I’m on my ass, a sharp stump just an inch shy of my chest.

Both Easton and I stare at it. If either of us had landed on that, we’d be dead.

“Fuck.” Easton’s up, and while I could wrap my leg around his in a wrestling move and bring his face into the mud, I don’t. “He taught me about surprise too.”

My eyes flick over the muddy billionaire.

“You done?” He wipes his hand on his pants and runs his hand through his hair––smoothing it out of his face.

I stand and grunt at him.

“That’s your way of saying yes?” He cocks his head to the side.

“Yes. Fuck you.”

“Right.” He’s blocking the trail back to the beach and doesn’t move. His hands on his hips, he looks like a damn disappointed teacher. “No, you know what? I’m not done.”

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