Page 35 of Fire Island
I guess, to me, now he is.
I curl up on Iris’s bed, my body starting to shake all over again.
He’s only down the hall, and I can’t see him. Can’t talk to him. Can’t fly into his arms, touch his face, drown in those blue eyes I’ve kept front of mind for over two weeks. They were my lifeline.
I mean, I could see him, but I’d have to come up with some story about how I’m Iris’s friend. I had an accident. I’m recuperating here. Separate from his life.
Just Iris’s old friend.
Nothing to him.
Oh god.That hurts.
I wail into the pillow, hands turning to claws around the blanket. They tingle, cramping up as I fail to pull a useful breath in. After all I went through on the island, this small detail shouldn’t raze me the way it does. But my heart and soul measure the damage of losing Callum McCreary the same as they do my freedom, my will to live.
The sun has well and truly gone down by the time I have no tears left. My head thumps, and my throat is raw. It’s then Iris pads into the room, a tray in hand. She sets it on the bed and closes the door.
I push to sit up, and Iris’s face breaks when her gaze finds mine.
“Oh god, sweetheart.”
She’s wrapped around me a heartbeat later. I want to push and pull and scream and slam my fists into the drywall.
What if . . .
Wha—
Urgh.
“Listen, you have something to eat and drink, and then take a nice long, hot shower. Then we can snuggle up and watch Netflix. What do you say?” Iris looks hopeful.
“Sure, sounds nice.” I give her a sad smile.
She rubs my arm before walking to her dresser and fishing out some pajamas. The same ones I wore last time. The boat-neck top and cotton shorts. I gather my few things from the hospital, walk into the hall, and head down to the bathroom. Closing the door, I set my things on the vanity and turn on the water. Stripping down, I step into the warm water. It feels like forever since I had a hot shower.
I wash twice with Iris’s lavender soap and wash my hair and condition it before toweling off and dressing in the clothes shegave me. I towel my hair again, trying to remove a little more moisture. I wring it into a long length, twisting it around to pull it over one shoulder. It dampens the one side of the shirt. Hunting in her drawers, I find a new toothbrush and clean my teeth before rolling up my filthy clothes to take back to the room.
The doorknob rattles.
I stand rooted to the spot as the door opens. Hugging the clothes to my body, I step back in the small space as it widens to reveal Callum McCreary.
Alive and well.
Standing, staring at me.
The love and adoration usually filling his eyes is gone. In its place is confusion and something like curiosity.
Nothing registers.
Realizing I’m staring at him, I clear my throat and wave tentatively. “H-hi.”
He frowns, leaning on the doorjamb. “Hi.” He folds his arms over his chest. His bare chest. “You done?” He nods at the sink.
“I—” I swallow and will the lightning shooting through my nerves to fade. “Yeah. S-sorry.”
I move toward the door.
He pushes off the frame. I slip past him, my shoulder grazing his chest. I can’t look up at him. My heart will surely shatter if I do. How he doesn’t see the heartbreak etched all over my face, I have no idea. His scent fences me in for a heartbeat, and I hover over the threshold, not willing to leave.
