Page 50 of The Billionaire's Teacher

I eyed the packet. I really wanted to refuse, just on principle. But my ribs had gone from aching to actively hurting, and my head was throbbing. As was my ankle. With a sigh, I took the packet and ripped it open. I shook the pills into my hand then tossed them into my mouth. It took a moment to work up enough saliva to swallow them, but they went down.

Most of the way, at least.

“Let me get you some water.” Sunshine dug around in the bag again until she tugged out a bottle. She stood and jogged back to the hall.

She was back before I could wonder where she was getting water.

“It’s rain.” She shrugged as she offered me the bottle. “But I figure at this point, it’s clean enough and better than nothing.”

I took the bottle and drank deeply. Honestly, at this point I wasn’t worried about the quality of the rain water. It was a relief to get the pills unstuck and quench the thirst that had been building without me realizing it. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled slightly. “I’m serious about the nap. Do you want a blanket?”

“I don’t want to nap.” I sighed. I heard the petulant whine for what it was. “But I guess. Yeah.”

Wordlessly, Sunshine reached into the emergency bag again and pulled out a small square of shiny foil. She opened the packaging and shook out the space blanket, then draped it over my legs and torso.

I shifted to a more reclined and slightly comfier position. “What will you do?”

Sunshine settled on the floor a couple of armlengths away. She pulled a paperback out of the pocket of the duffel she leaned against. “I have a book.”

I wanted to caution her about reading in the dim light. But then I actually noticed the lantern light and what it did to her face and I lost my train of thought. “You’re beautiful.”

Sunshine shook her head. “You hit your head. Go to sleep.”

I wanted to protest, but the look she gave me left no room for argument. She opened her book and I could feel the purposeful way she didn’t look at me. Fine.

I turned my head and studied the tilework around the as-yet-unlit fireplace. Between the dim light, the sound of the storm raging outside, the warmth of the blanket, and my injuries, my eyes drifted shut.

14

SUNSHINE

I’d been staring at the same page in my book for the last ten minutes and I wouldn’t have been able to tell someone what it was about if they’d offered me a billion dollars.

I looked up through my eyelashes and silently let out a breath. Wes had closed his eyes. His chest moved evenly as he breathed. Slept.

I closed the book and set it aside, his words ping-ponging in my head. I was not beautiful. I knew this about myself. I could accept “cute,” maybe even “pretty” on a good-hair day. But not beautiful. I wasn’t ugly. I didn’t have horrible self-esteem or anything, either. I just believed in being realistic.

Luca hadn’t even said I was beautiful. And he’d loved me with everything in him. The same way I’d loved him.

Look where that had gotten us.

Nowhere.

He was gone. We’d never gotten around to starting a family. All I had were memories of him, and they were all tied to these islands. It was one of the reasons I stayed. If I left—pushing aside the whole “where would I go” question—would Luca fade away into nothing? Besides, my life was here.

Well, notherehere. This island—name unknown from what I could tell without electronic input—held neither my life nor memories of Luca.

And so it was going to hold memories of Wes.

I wasn’t sure what to do with that.

When the storm was over and it was safe for rescue missions to get underway, we’d get off the island and he’d go home to Virginia and his friend group. I’d go back to my beach cottage and a life of driving boats with the occasional afternoon hangout with Zee.

It was fine. Good, even.

I’d be all right.

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