Unseen Messages(32)

I had no idea what I was feeling for. Sharp edges? Misaligned ligaments? Even if I did, I wouldn’t know if it was normal or wrong. Plus, if I did somehow know what was wrong, what on earth could I do about it?

I couldn’t even offer generic painkillers, let alone assure him he’d heal intact with no ill effects. However, I knew from experience that fake confidence was better than panicked horror, especially where children were concerned.

Smiling brightly, I let him go. “I might be wrong. It could just be a nasty sprain. But let’s be on the safe side and make you a splint. How does that sound?”

“A splint?”

Grabbing a straight-ish stick, I nodded. The bark had weathered into the silvery softness of driftwood. It wouldn’t stab him and would hopefully keep his bone in line to heal. I didn’t know how long it would take to knit together, but this was all I could offer.

What can I use as a bandage?

Twisting in the sand (killing my ribs in the process), I looked for a possibility. “Yes, you know? Like a cast but without the plaster.”

Dammit, there was nothing to wrap his arm with. The only thing I could think of was my top. I wasn’t precious with my clothes and didn’t hesitate.

Dropping the stick, I grabbed my hem and ripped the soft cotton with my teeth. With a quick yank, a section came away. I repeated it so I had a few strips to use.

“You just ruined your top.” Conner rolled his eyes. “I don’t see a mall to buy another one.”

Laughing as if he’d told the funniest joke, I grabbed his wrist again and placed the stick on his forearm. As a quick addition, I picked up a newly fallen leaf and wrapped it around his skin to protect him as much as possible from the stick. “Oh, well. I’m not exactly going for best dressed or a fancy party, am I?”

Conner grinned. “I guess not. However, I’d still vote for you as prettiest girl, even though you are completely filthy.”

My hands froze. I could barely deal with Galloway and his snide comments and he was closer to my age for sexual innuendo arguments. Conner was too young. How did I deal with pubescent testosterone when it was just him and me and no referee?

I forced myself to meet his eyes. “How old are you, Conner?”

“Thirteen. Why?”

“And Pippa? How old is she?”

He frowned. “She’s seven. Turns eight in a few months.”

“I bet she seems really young to you.”

He smirked. “Hell, yeah. A baby, really.”

Please don’t let this backfire.

I hated confrontation (a nasty symptom of being an introvert) but if we had any chance of surviving together, then boundaries had to be put in place immediately.

I straightened. “Well, the way you think of Pippa, with how young she is...that’s how I think of you.”

Conner sucked in a sharp breath.

I didn’t say a word, merely waited for the backlash. Only...it didn’t come. “Do you understand what I’m saying? I want to be your friend, Conner. But I’m too old for you...”

His face didn’t hint his thoughts. His skin had already caught the sunshine. His brow and square nose had turned pink and his brown eyes glowed warmly. He was a great looking boy, and I had no doubt would break many female hearts...when he came of age. I just hoped I hadn’t emasculated him by treating him like a child.

He burst out laughing. “Ah, I get it.”

“You do?”

“You have the hots for Gal.”

“Gal?”

“Galloway.”

Embarrassment flushed my cheeks. “No. That’s not it at all.”

He leaned closer, encroaching on my personal bubble, making me slightly uncomfortable. How could a boy unnerve me so much?

Because he’s nailed it.

I acted as if Galloway pissed me off because I didn’t want to face reality. I was attracted to him. When I’d touched him to check his broken ankle, all I thought about was skimming my hands higher and seeing what wasn’t broken.

I’d never wanted to do that to anyone, let alone a complete stranger.

It was better for me to keep my distance, and if Conner kept his distance from me, believing I liked Galloway...well, where was the harm in that?

Besides, we were on a freaking island!

Alone.

We had more pressing things to worry about than romantic wishes and misunderstood arguments.

Clearing my throat, I picked up the stick again. “Hold that.”

Still chuckling, Conner did as I asked as I wrapped the leaf tighter and positioned the stick along his wrist from his palm to middle forearm. Once in place, I used my makeshift bandage, wrapping the fabric strips around him and binding tight.

It wasn’t pretty, but at least it would give him support and allow the bones – if they were broken—to knit correctly.

Galloway.

I’ll have to do the same for him.

He could growl and grumble all he wanted, but his leg wouldn’t heal without some sort of attention.

Conner sighed as soon as the knot was finished. “Thanks. That already feels better.”

I stood up. “No worries.” My eyes drifted from bright beach to gloomy jungle. We’d achieved more than just setting a damaged wrist. We’d formed the foundations of a friendship that I hoped would benefit both of us—no matter what happened.