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

G A L L O W A Y

......

FIVE YEARS BEFORE THE CRASH

“I, GALLOWAY JACOB Oak, swear that the evidence I shall give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”

My hand shook as the defence attorney removed the bible from my reach, sneering with disdain. He’d already judged, condemned, and ruined me.

I was screwed.

My eyes flickered to the jury where the faces of all ages, ethnicities, and religions stared back. Each one held a key to my freedom, but not one of them would give it to me.

And why should they?

I didn’t deserve it.

Not in the eyes of the court anyway.

In the eyes of my mother...well, I knew she would’ve been grateful if not sad for what I’d become.

The attorney paced like a jackal in front of my witness box, linking his fingers pompously. “Now, Mr. Oak. Answer clearly and precisely for the court so there is no misunderstanding. Did you or did you not kill Doctor Joseph Silverstein?”

I glanced at my father. I straightened my shoulders. I prepared to throw my life away.

Not that I had a life left.

I was a murderer.

“Yes. Yes, I killed him.”

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

BLOODY NERVES DROVE me mad as I waited for the others to join me.

I’d had four days to perfect our home on my own. Even Conner hadn’t been permitted around the camp while I finished it. He’d been as integral to the creation as I had, but I wanted the final touches to be special for him, too.

Hence the banning.

I stood by the fire, critiquing the building we’d created from flax rope, bamboo, and helicopter rotor blades. It wasn’t fancy, but it was fairly large and substantial enough to withstand a storm or two, but not a typhoon if one of those decided to make our life even more hellish.

It’ll leak.

I scowled. That part was unavoidable. The roof was flax fronds layered tightly together and the open holes for windows merely had a woven mat secured to the wall to roll down. It was the best I could do without waterproof tiles or glass.

I heard them before I saw them.

I crossed my arms and waited as Pippa’s giggle and Conner’s voice drifted around the bay.

Last week, Conner’s voice had dropped a few octaves, leaving behind boyhood for puberty.

I was proud of that.

Proud that we’d all signed a death warrant the night we’d crashed, yet we hadn’t succumbed. Pippa was happier than she had been in a while, Conner was adapting, and Estelle had somehow grown more bloody beautiful.

She’d lost weight—like all of us—but her bone structure only stood out more. With tanned skin and bleached white hair, she truly looked like an island seductress.

My heart wrapped itself around my ribcage as she appeared on the edge of camp. The children trailed behind her. She walked quickly, eager to see what I’d done.

My mood bounced between pissed off and inadequacy. Pissed because we still hadn’t cleared the air between us and inadequacy because as hard as I’d worked on our new house, it had its flaws.

Many, many flaws.

It wasn’t perfect, and to me, every issue and mistake was blatantly obvious.

What if she refused to live in it?

Her lips twitched into a kind smile, her eyes full of sorrow for the emotional gap between us. It was hard having a silent fight when it was just you and two kids on a damn island.

Unless someone was willing to clear the air it became harder and harder to stomach. I knew I’d been in the wrong. I’d jumped down her throat after she’d been nothing but forthright with me. It wasn’t her fault she lied about wanting nothing more than friendship—regardless what her body said.

Her eyes drifted from mine to the house.

She froze.

Her mouth fell open.

Tears sprang to her eyes.

My heart thundered, expecting her to rush toward the dwelling and step inside for the first time.

But she didn’t.

She ran straight toward me.

Her feet kicked up sand and when her arms clamped over my shoulders, I couldn’t stop my body’s insane craving for her. My fingers dove into her hair, and I didn’t know who did it.

Her or me.

It didn’t matter.

One moment, we were separate.

The next, we were one.

Her lips collided with mine.

Her tongue welcomed me.

Her taste exploded everywhere.

And I swore right there and then that I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t hold a grudge. I couldn’t be angry. I couldn’t hate her for not accepting me.

Our fight dissolved. The distance between us erased.

Her kiss was like slipping into comfort and forgiveness all at once.

A groan caught in the back of my throat as her breasts pressed against me. Intensity thickened and heated until I worried I’d incinerate in her arms. I wanted to run my hands down her body, pluck her from the sand, and carry her into the first home we’d had in months. Cradle her in four walls and make love to her with a roof above our heads and privacy hiding our secrets.

Her teeth caught my bottom lip, dragging me closer for one last second.

Then, it was over.

She pulled away, dropping her eyes. “Um...somehow my scripted thank you became—”

“The best kiss since the first one you gave me?”

She blushed. “Yes...well. Sorry.”

I wouldn’t let her get away this time. Not again.

Cupping her chin, I forced her gaze back to mine. “There’s nothing to apologise for.”