Unseen Messages(66)

He eyed my tangled blonde hair. “Why haven’t you been putting your hair up? Aren’t you hot?”

My skin danced beneath his gaze, loving the way he studied me and terribly self-conscious, too. I had no makeup on. No beautification of any kind. He saw me at my worst—my sun-bleached, windswept, island-crashed worst.

Oh well, he can’t see all that well.

Perhaps, he’d missed the salt-tightness of my skin or the shininess of greasy hair.

What an awful thing to think.

It must be horrid not being able to see with clarity. I wished he could see me. See the honest to God’s truth of who I was so there was no denying he’d accepted me for me and not some hazy, unfocused version of what he wanted to see.

I couldn’t hold his gaze anymore. “My hair is the only sunscreen I have for my shoulders and neck. I’m hot, but at least I’m not as badly burned as I would be if I tied it up.”

Having earned his answer, he turned away and poised the blade over the end of the funnel. I moved closer, taking his crutch as he balanced and pinched the plastic.

With utmost care, Galloway nicked the bottom. Instantly, a stream of collected water poured into the awaiting metal below. A few droplets splashed onto the sand, absorbing instantly, but the majority made the most satisfying splash.

“Crap, I need a drink.” Conner fell to his knees. “One taste. Please?”

Galloway growled, “Grab the bottles and fill them up. We can’t be stupid with the small amount we have.”

Conner obeyed instantly. Galloway hadn’t been angry, but he did command a certain kind of reverence.

While Conner carefully held the empty bottles in the trough, filling them one by one, Galloway and I moved to the poncho collection.

With bleeding hands, Galloway nicked the funnel, and once again my heart leapt at the delicious flowing water. It took every willpower not to face-plant and slurp up every drop.

Galloway secured the funnel with my hair-tie and swiped sweat off his forehead. The sun had just set, leaving us in twilight. “Well, that’s that.”

Pippa darted over as Conner screwed the caps on the bottles. Yesterday, they’d been empty, and I’d been at a complete loss how we’d ever refill them. Now, they held life-giving liquid.

I would forever be grateful to Galloway for giving us that precious reprieve.

We weren’t dying anymore.

We would survive long enough for rescue to find us.

Because of him.

He’d created water from nothing and found food from nowhere.

Compared to what I’d contributed, that was everything.

Conner and Pippa immediately shared a bottle, swigging mouthfuls, groaning with contentment.

Galloway took the other full one and passed it to me. I shook my head, forcing it back to him. “No, you hurt yourself making this possible. Please, I insist.”

He looked as if he’d argue, so I took matters out of his control. Snatching the bottle, I unscrewed it and held it to his lips. His eyes widened as he watched me with blazing awareness. Slowly, his lips parted and allowed me to tip the bottle so water cascaded into his mouth.

Something hot and fierce sprang between us.

Something so intimately sexual about feeding another.

Something so raw and primal.

My core melted at the thought of replacing the bottle with my lips and kiss kiss kissing him. Kiss him so hard. Kiss him so gratefully. Kiss him just for the sake of being alive and being able to kiss him.

His hand came up to curl over mine, steadily draining half the bottle before tugging and guiding the rim to my mouth. Completely bewitched by him, I opened and never looked away as he tipped my share down my throat.

I moaned.

How could I not?

The water was too warm, slightly plasticy, and held a faint taste of evergreen but it was the best, most delicious water I’d ever had. And the fact that the most courageous, mercurial, complex man had sourced and fed me every drop made my heart sing with possibility.

I didn’t know who ended the spell, but the bottle switched from full to empty and we were down to one.

I could’ve drunk ten more.

But for now, it would have to do. The throbbing headache from lack of hydration faded a little as my body greedily accepted its gift.

I licked my bottom lip, savouring the final taste. “Are we ready for dinner?”

The children fell dramatically in the sand, holding their grumbling stomachs. “Yes! Feed us.”

I laughed.

Galloway flinched as he inspected his hands.

I’ll take care of him after we’ve eaten.

Together, we headed back to the pot of cooked clams.

As the sun set on our third day, I vowed that tomorrow would be better because today was better than yesterday and this week was somehow better than the last—even though it was so incredibly different.

Our lives had changed so much, but we’d found we could survive it.

“You did a really good thing today,” I whispered as Galloway tore open the shell of a steaming clam and slipped it into his mouth.

The children devoured theirs. The food hit my stomach, spreading its happy welcome through tired, starving muscles, and little by little, smile by smile we left the shadow of death.

He looked at me but didn’t speak. But his gaze said a thousand things.

We did a really good thing.

We can do this.