Unseen Messages(169)

“Believe what?” My eyes narrowed through my tears. “What don’t I remember?”

“That I explained to you why you don’t have to return to the island.”

“Because he’s dead?”

“That’s what you think? Truly, think. Try to remember.”

I froze. Tears turned to stalactites on my cheeks. “What—what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you should be crying for life rather than death.”

My breathing stopped for an entirely different reason. Despicable hope rose like two hundred sunrises in my ribcage. “Tell me.”

Stefan let me go, handing me a wad of tissues from his pocket. “I think I’d better show you.” Standing, he held out a hand to help me up.

My knees shook.

My back ached.

My eyes burned.

But I couldn’t shake the thought I’d missed something. That all of this...this pain and suffering...

“Captain, we’ll come back tomorrow. We can go over the bases then.” Taking my elbow, Stefan guided me toward the exit.

The captain waved. “No problem. Oh, and, Miss. Please don’t worry about anything. The clothing, the food, the medical attention, even your room. Everything you require is at the pleasure of P&O cruise lines.” He lowered his head importantly. “Anything at all.”

I should thank him.

I should show gratitude for such a gift.

But I couldn’t.

Because somehow, somewhy, somewhat...my brain unlocked another memory.

Him.

He’d been here.

On this boat.

Galloway.





Chapter Sixty-Four


...............................................

E S T E L L E

......

“DO YOU BELIEVE me now?”

Stefan let me go the moment we entered the tiny room with beeping noises and a single cot pushed up against the wall.

We’d descended in the lift.

We’d walked along the corridors.

We’d entered the medical wing.

And with every step, my heart slowly stole back its existence from snarling tears, welcoming hope instead.

I didn’t know what I did first.

Laughed.

Cried.

Collapsed

Danced.

Perhaps, all four at once.

One moment, I stood beside Stefan in the doorway. The next, I was sprawled on his chest.

His.

The man I loved.

The man I’d left.

The man who’d died.

“Oh, my God.” I kissed him. Over and over and over.

He didn’t wake up.

Stefan came closer. He didn’t tell me to climb from the cot. He didn’t tell me I was crushing his patient.

He was wise.

Instead, he said, “His system is severely exhausted and the infection has stolen whatever reserves he had left. He’ll wake up when he’s ready. But he’s alive, and we’ll do everything we can to keep him that way.”

He’s alive.

I didn’t have to choose.

Galloway was here, with me, on the ship. He hadn’t gone to Conner. He hadn’t visited his mother.

He was my havoc, my harmony, my only chance at hope.

I clutched him harder, kissing his warm, lifeless lips, staring into his gaunt face and sunburned nose. His long hair spread out like a crown, a mixture of browns and bronzes on white perfection.

He looked regal.

He looked dead.

But I knew better now.

I’d left behind my phone, our videos, my notebooks, and three and a half years of carvings and creation.

But I hadn’t left behind my husband.

I could breathe again.





Chapter Sixty-Five


...............................................

G A L L O W A Y

......

IF THIS WAS hell, then I pitied those who went to heaven.

I expected raging fires of doom and pitchforks and condemning judgements. Not the floating strange sensation of healing.

I’d said goodbye to Estelle.

I’d trusted she’d keep her promise.

I’d died the moment I lost sight of her.

Yet...noises kept interrupting my restless slumber. Pinpricks and beeping and touching, lots and lots of touching.

Fragments of dreams appeared of motorboats and rocking oceans. Which was odd as I hadn’t been on a boat since my father took me fishing for my sixteenth birthday.

Slowly, I became tethered to my body, feeling more pain and more heat than before. Wasn’t death the opposite? Weren’t you supposed to find freedom once you made the conscious decision to...let go?

The eerie sensation of being watched and discussed came and went, along with unknown voices.

Until suddenly, there was a voice I recognised.

A woman.

My woman.

My wife.

Desperation shoved aside hot sickness; I tried to swim to her.

She was on our island, surrounded by smashing waves and snapping sharks. All I had to do was get to her and then all would be well.

I would swim the gauntlet. I would fight every shark. I would do whatever it took to keep her.

But something anchored me down.

My eyes remained shut with lead lures on my eyelashes and limbs locked in a cage.