We used the white liquid to boil crabs and fish, and dinner had never tasted so decadently delicious.

Little by little, meal by meal, we were adapting, evolving.

Soon, we wouldn’t recognise ourselves.

Soon, we would be ruined for any rescue.

Because as we adapted and evolved, we found more and more happiness in the simplest of things. We gradually, grudgingly accepted that this was our home now.

And we might never be permitted to leave.

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

SEVENTEEN WEEKS

Christmas came and went.

We didn’t celebrate.

I took photos on my phone and recorded a home movie of the progress of the house, but I didn’t tell the children the date.

After all, the essence of Christmas was celebration and gratefulness.

We were grateful but not celebratory. We would wait until we were found to honour the day of gift giving and happiness.

“Are you awake?”

I jolted, curling up in the flax blanket I’d made. We each had one now. It wasn’t exactly warm, but it did grant a resemblance of comfort. “Yes.” I paused, breathing shallowly, waiting for Galloway to follow through. When he didn’t, I whispered, “Why?”

Shuffling sounded as he sat up. I looked over at him, glancing quickly at the children to make sure they were sleeping.

Three nights ago, Galloway had insisted we all move farther down the beach. We’d grumbled, but it was strictly temporary. The house was almost done and he wanted to add the finishing touches without us seeing the end product.

The inconvenience of sleeping in a more exposed area on the beach and not being allowed to return to the camp was overshadowed by the excitement of moving into our new abode.

Not to mention, the change of location had acted like a holiday. Lightening the moods of Pippa and Conner, making my heart sing as they played together and laughed more than they had in weeks.

Galloway murmured, “I think it’s time I told you something.”

My heart stopped. “Tell me what?”

He rubbed his face. “Everything.”

I sat up, kneeling in my sandy bed. “Okay...”

Raking both hands through his hair, he gave me a crooked smile. “I’m not ready. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. But I can’t keep it from you anymore. The past few weeks, talking with you, sharing small pieces of who I am, I’d forgotten how nice that is. Nice to be known.”

“I’ve enjoyed it, too. I’m honoured that you trust me enough to tell me.”

His blue eyes glowed. “I don’t just trust you, Stel. It’s gone far beyond that.”

I looked away, unnerved by how much emotion he stared with.

“I need to tell you because I want more from you. Being your friend...it’s not enough.” His voice deepened to a heavy rasp. “And I don’t think being friends is enough for you...either.”

My lips parted. This was my moment. The moment when I fixed what I’d broken. If he were brave enough to finally tell me what haunted him, I could be honest and tell him why I was terrified of sleeping with him.

The words danced on the tip of my tongue.

No, it’s not enough.

You’re right; I want you so much I can barely stand it.

But something held me back. A weakness. A fear. My own stupid indecision.

I ruined it for the second time. “I—I like being your friend, Galloway.”

He stiffened. “That’s it?”

“Is that not enough?”

“Can you honestly say that it is?”

My heart ceased beating. “I can’t answer that question.”

“You know what, Stel? You really are a piece of work.” He chuckled coldly. “This past month, I’ve gone out of my way to open up to you—let you see that I’m worthy enough of one sliver of your affection. But nothing is good enough for you.”

“Wait.” I flinched. “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.”

I shook my head. “Galloway, you have it all wrong. I want you—”

“You know what?” His hand shot up to silence me. “I don’t need to know. Whatever it was that I was going to tell you...it’s not important.”

Throwing himself back into bed, he rolled over.

Tears tickled my eyes. “Galloway...”

He didn’t turn around.

I hugged my blanket closer. “G?”

Still, he ignored me.

For an age, I waited for him to give me a second chance.

But he never did.

My back ached as I finally accepted what I’d done. “I’m sorry.” Slowly, I slid from kneeling to lying, staring at the stars above. My tears escaped, rolling down my cheek with salty sadness.

Tell him!

Sit up and tell him how much you want him. Tell him what scares you. Be honest!

But my muscles locked with a hundred anchors of doubt. We’d been each other’s lifeline for so long that my fear wasn’t just about pregnancy anymore. What would happen if sleeping together destroyed the limited friendship we’d found?

What if he hated me afterward? What if he swam off the island and left me because I wasn’t what he wanted...after all?

I squeezed my temples, willing my tears to cease. We lived the simplest existence, constantly dodging death’s grip, finding joy in the basic of activities, yet I couldn’t find the courage to admit that, yes, I was in love with him, yes, I wanted him with every fibre of my body, and yes, I would bind myself to him on our island, in a city, or on any place on Earth.