Page 51 of The Billionaire's Teacher

I always was.

I closed my eyes. I might insist on being realistic when it came to my looks, but I recognized delusion when I heard it. Of course I wasn’t all right. I hadn’t been all right since Luca. And that was long enough that I was ready to declare that whatever this current state of being I was in was the new definition of all right.

Nothing else seemed reasonable.

But I was going to miss Wes.

And that was stupid.

I pushed to my feet and glanced at his sleeping form. I pressed my lips together and fought the urge to stretch out next to him, pillow my head on his shoulder, and drift off to sleep myself.

Instead, I picked up the lantern and continued my exploration of the abandoned house. It had been gorgeous once. From the state of things, no one had lived here for at least a year. Maybe two. I headed away from the bedrooms to explore the rooms on the other side of the one where we were now set up. The first appeared to be a dining room, if the built-in console that ran the length of a short wall was any indication. I could picture it loaded down with dishes and platters and bowls for easy serving during a party. The chandelier hanging in the center of the ceiling was another clue.

I continued on, past another bathroom and the kitchen, to the garage. I blinked as I studied the ATV and golf cart parked inside. It made sense. Whoever had lived here certainly hadn’t needed a typical car. From what I’d seen as I’d dragged everything to the house, there weren’t paved roads—although there was a spot on the horizon, near the far edge of the island, that might have been. But it also could have been a trick of the light during the storm.

Why hadn’t these been taken, too?

To move onto an island like this, the owner would have had to get furniture delivered. And, before that, building supplies. The furniture had been taken when they left, so why not the vehicles?

Strange.

I looked away from the vehicles. The shelves that lined one wall of the garage were empty. But there, under the bottom rack, was a stack of firewood.

I smiled and stepped fully into the space.

Wes hadn’t asked about how we were going to light the fire. I considered that part of his head injury, honestly. So far on this trip, he’d been pretty quick to identify problems and help find solutions. But with the storm raging outside, it wasn’t as if cutting down a tree was an option. And any deadfall would be soaked.

I’d had backups in mind. There were dry floorboards we could pry up. Cabinets in the kitchen. But I hadn’t wanted to start destroying the house if we could avoid it.

Now it looked like we could.

I gathered four of the split logs into my arms, ignoring the twinge of my back. I’d pay for all the heavy lifting I’d been doing, but hopefully not until Wes was back to one hundred percent. Or, better, not until we’d been rescued.

I lugged the wood and lantern back to the living room, careful to step around Wes and be as quiet as I could. The only major benefit of hurricanes was that they moved fast. We shouldn’t be facing landfall, either, so we’d just get hit by the arms. Not that that was minor.

If I had to guess, I would put this storm at a category three. Maybe even a four. When it did hit land? It was going to do some serious damage.

Even still, I was holding out hope that the boat would somehow escape the brunt of it and we’d be able to swim out, climb aboard, and rescue ourselves.

In my heart, I knew it wasn’t likely. But it was still absolutely my prayer.

It took a few minutes to figure out how to open the flue. I didn’t understand the previous owners at all. Why close the fireplace flue but leave the storm shutters open? Whatever. When I finally figured that out, I got a small fire going with one log. Enough to add light and allow us to heat water once Wes woke. Not enough to add much to the heat.

I settled back against the bags and finally gave in to the temptation to let my gaze rove over Wes as he slept. For the first time since Luca died, it didn’t feel dishonest to notice a man. I wanted to be grateful.

Instead? I was conflicted.

I scooted closer. Not close enough that we were touching, but it wouldn’t hurt to lie nearby. Would it?

* * *

I noticedthree things when I woke: the slow, steady heartbeat that thumped under my cheek, the quiet outside, and the weight of an arm locking me in place. For those first few, sleepy moments, I thought it was Luca. I breathed in, expecting the warm, familiar scent of my husband. But while it was a pleasing mix of man, rain, sea, and sweat that met my senses, it wasn’t Luca.

Wes.

My eyes flew open. I shifted, gently. His eyes remained closed. His breathing was deep and steady.

I swallowed.

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