Pity, I completely misread the signs.
They weren’t there to be adventurous. To live in the moment. To be reckless and stupid and alive.
They were there as a barricade against the exact same flaws I’d just embraced.
Ironically, I’d done the exact opposite of what I should.
By trying to live, I killed myself.
Chapter Six
...............................................
G A L L O W A Y
......
I COULDN’T STOP looking at her.
My gaze somehow found their way to her no matter how much she pissed me off.
What the hell is she doing here?
She wasn’t like me.
She didn’t have an obligation to uphold.
She had a plane reservation leaving in the morning and every reason to stay in the crappy hotel supplied by the airline and leave the moment she could. So why the hell had she thrown that away to come with us?
Stupid girl.
Stupid, beautiful, sexy-as-hell girl.
Why couldn’t she vanish and let me live my damn life?
You don’t know anything about her.
I didn’t want to. I’d only had a few conversations with her, and already, I guessed she was a high-maintenance shrew with the personality of a pencil.
My fists curled as the van bumped over badly paved roads, heading through villages shrouded in darkness.
I couldn’t stop staring.
Why the hell can’t I stop staring?
I was glad I hadn’t talked to her on the plane. I wished I didn’t have to talk to her at all. Not only had she ruined the perception I had of a sweet woman who would’ve let me walk all over her and not held my balls in her hands, but now, I also had the unwanted situation of sharing transportation with her.
And what was worse...she would be on my island.
Kadavu.
She would check into the resort where the Evermores were staying and infect my piece of paradise. She would be close enough to visit, apologise to, let down my walls, turn off my temper, and truly see what the hell had happened between us when we touched.
She didn’t look my way—not once.
I cleaned my glasses; just to be sure I’d catch any glimpse of her sneaking a look.
But nothing.
Her eyes locked on the passing Fijian countryside, her fingers tapping a nonsensical beat on her puffer jacket in her lap. She’d removed her pink jumper and the delicate lines of her naked shoulders and the hint of bra straps beneath her black tank top pissed me off even more.
How dare she have this effect on me? It wasn’t permitted. Not when I was so close to doing something right for a change. Not when I wanted nothing to do with complications and relationships that I didn’t deserve.
The little girl sitting beside her tugged her jacket, poking at the bulging pockets.
Estelle (what sort of sexy, delicious name was that anyway?) giggled, leaning closer to chat with the kid.
The fearful tension she’d worn on the plane had faded, revealing another layer to the woman I didn’t want to know.
Now, she looked almost...excited. Free. Younger and wiser all at the same time.
What made her change her mind?
Where had she been going before throwing her plans to fate and deciding to hook up with a bunch of strangers to fly to an island in the middle of nowhere?
Who did that?
Who lived so freely?
My lips drifted to her mouth.
What would she taste like if I kissed her? Would she let me or would she kick me in the balls instead?
I don’t want to bloody kiss her, goddammit.
I groaned, rubbing my temples, trying to get myself under control.
I wanted to open the door and shove her outside mid-drive. I wanted her far, far away from me before I could give into the itch inside. Because if I gave into the itch, I was screwed. She would be, too.
I don’t have time for this.
Duncan and his family remained quiet as fat raindrops intermittently splashed the van’s roof. Palm trees swayed in the dark, lit with an occasional streetlight, turning them into eerie skeletons the deeper into the bush we drove.
The journey didn’t take long. After all, Viti Levu wasn't a big island. However, the rain had drenched the trees and banana plantations. The storm might have passed, but precipitation and humidity meant the tropics were never truly dry.
My teeth jarred as we turned right over a pothole and down a long driveway, arriving beside an airstrip where the carcasses of propeller aircraft and a few sad looking helicopters rested in the night.
Estelle glanced out the window as we pulled to a stop outside a thatched bungalow. The driver climbed out and opened our door.
We all tumbled out in a mix of curses.
Suitcases and carry-ons were hauled from the van’s trailer and carted as quickly as possible into the decrepit office with dull lights swinging from the ceiling. The humidity did its best to drench us, turning weary passengers into a sodden pile of jetlagged clothing.
Dropping our bags in the foyer beside a counter with an ancient printer and fax machine, our sad little group surveyed the not-too-inviting office.
The driver pointed at the floor in the universal sign of ‘stay here’ and disappeared down a corridor to where I assumed was the main traffic control.
Estelle looked at me fleetingly as she investigated sepia photographs on the wall depicting planes and helicopters flying over pretty islands.
The tiny glance harpooned my attention, reeling me in despite my wishes. Opening lines and snippy arguments filled my head. If I had to put up with the weird connection between us, she ought to be as uncomfortable as I was.
Before I could think up a callous, witty remark, Estelle turned her back on me and traced a large map of Fiji with its widespread islands pasted crookedly on the wall. The Evermore family drifted off, murmuring and soothing the kids that soon they’d be in paradise and able to sleep.
I stood there like a bloody idiot.
Needing to do something, I ran a hand over my hair to dispel raindrops and prowled after the driver. At the end of the corridor, I entered the office where he’d disappeared.
Two men conversed in Hindi, letting me know they were Indian-Fijian descent. Their hands punctured their sentences as I skirted the perimeter, scanning the rudimentary graphs and diagrams of flight paths and other aeronautical paraphernalia.
Our driver pointed outside to the wet night, nodding as if it was a perfect evening to fly. The other man shook his head, waggling his wristwatch in his friend’s face, scrunching his nose with disagreement.
Goddammit, he had to take us.
If it weren’t important, I’d happily stay the night in some shitty backpackers. But it was important. I had to be there. I wouldn’t fail again.
Shoving my hands into my jean pockets, I approached them. “Look, we’re happy to pay. How long is the flight? An hour or so? That means you make some good coin and get home all within a couple of hours.” Forcing a smile, I pulled the wad of cash from my back pocket (it was all I had left). “Need to know we’re good for it? We’ll pay you up-front. How about that?”
The remaining US currency was convenient. I’d pay for all of us, and they could pay me back on the flight.
The driver cleared his throat, gesturing to his friend and the money in my hand.
I smiled. “See, a good gig.”
Frowning, the other man—who I assumed would be our pilot—came closer. Ignoring the money, he held out his hand waiting for me to shake. Transferring the bills to my left, I clasped his right, completing social niceties.
Letting our handheld introduction break, the man said, “I’m Akin. You are?”
“Galloway.”
“Mr. Galloway, you do realise a storm is threatening Fiji. It’s not safe—”
“The pilot on the flight here said the weather pattern was leaving.”
> Akin paced around me, making me feel like a naughty student listening to his professor. The guy wasn’t old, but his face was lined with stress and hardship. “That might be, but these things create wind thermals and downdraughts. The cumulus nimbus of a thunderstorm can be deadly with turbulent air.”
My heart fisted at the thought of having this last chance stolen. I wasn’t an idiot. If a professional said it was risky...then what did I value more? My life or a job?
But I valued this second chance almost as much. It wasn’t just a job. It was the opportunity to find happiness again.
My fingers clutched the money. Words filled my mouth to argue, but I wouldn’t fight. I’d done my best. If it was too dangerous, then...fine. Yet another dream dashed. I’d have to change my flight to fly back to England tomorrow rather than in three months’ time. I’d have to admit to my father that I lied to him. I’d have to accept that I wasn’t worthy of what I wished for.
Goddammit.
Our driver struck up conversation in Hindi again. I left them to it. I’d tried and failed.
Heading down the corridor, my eyes met Estelle’s. The green and brown of swirling hazel warmed first with anticipation and then cooled with disappointment. She understood just by looking at me that we wouldn’t be going anywhere—not tonight. I hoped she had better things to go back to than I did.
Duncan moved away from his wife and kids. “What’s the update? When do we leave?”
I gripped the back of my neck, squeezing at the sudden headache building at the base of my spine. “We don’t—”
“How many people?” Akin interrupted me, shooting me a look as he appeared in entrance to the corridor.
“Huh?”
Estelle answered for me. “Six, plus luggage.”
Akin crossed his arms. “No. I have an R44 and maximum capacity is four people.” He scowled at the children. “I’ve stripped the cabin of all unnecessary gear so I can transport more supplies for work. It’s possible to squeeze in the kids but luggage can’t go.”
Amelia came forward. “But we need our bags. How are we supposed—”
“I’ll bring them over tomorrow when I fly my regular route to bring produce to outlying hotels.” Akin cocked his chin. “Those are my terms. Fly now and have a night with limited supplies or leave tomorrow with your belongings on a bigger service.”
My heart leapt. I didn’t care. I had most of my toiletries in my messenger bag and nothing of value in my luggage. “If we can take bare necessities, I’m in.”
Estelle cleared her throat, hugging her jacket.
Why the hell was she still holding that thing? She must be sweltering beneath the puffy weight—even if she wasn’t wearing it.
Glancing at her overstuffed suitcase, she sighed. “If I can bring my handbag, I’m okay with that, too. As long as my valuables like my laptop are safe to leave here overnight?”
“Very safe.” Akin nodded. “I’ll take great care of your belongings until I bring them to you.” Fixing his gaze on the Evermore family, he asked, “What’s it to be? I’ll agree to take you to Kadavu with my helicopter. But we leave now and you follow my every instruction.”
My eyes drifted to our shuttle driver. He stood behind Akin, leaning against the wall. What did he say to him to change his mind? Akin had been rather adamant about not flying in the storm.
“And you’re sure it’s safe?” I muttered. “After your unwillingness before?”
Akin glared in my direction. “Yes, I checked the weather and you’re right. The storm is heading away. I’m comfortable enough to do a quick flight.” His eyes flashed. “Believe me, if I didn’t think it was safe, I wouldn’t go. After all, it’s not just your lives on the line, is it?”
Good point. “Fair enough.”
“There is one thing I need to mention and then it’s your choice.” Akin waited for complete attention before continuing. “My R44 has a faulty ELT. It’s your own risk.”
“What’s an ELT?” Duncan asked.
“Emergency Locator Beacon,” Akin said. “I’m due to get it fixed, but my workload means I can’t give up time for a maintenance overhaul.” He spread his hands in surrender. “Your choice. I trust my machine and it’s never failed me. But full disclosure.”
Amelia tugged Duncan’s sleeve. “I’m not so sure—”
“It’s just like riding a rickety bus, Emmy.” Duncan kissed his wife’s cheek. “They never break down but they look God awful.” Looking at Akin, he smiled. “I’m okay with that.”
Akin glanced at me. “You?”
I looped my fingers around my bag’s strap. “I guess.”
“And you?” Akin pointed at Estelle.
She pursed her lips. I fully expected her to refuse. But once again she surprised me.
“Okay.” Turning to grab her handbag from the stash of belongings, she rummaged in the white leather to make sure she had whatever she needed. Dropping to her haunches, she unzipped her suitcase and pulled out a silky nightgown (that made my mouth go dry), a black bikini, a t-shirt, shorts, and mini-skirt. Stuffing them all into her handbag, she stood. “All ready.”
Fine.
If Ms. Preparedness had the forethought to think about waking tomorrow and not having things to wear, I would, too.
Ripping out a pair of khaki pants to work in, a pair of shorts to relax in, a couple of t-shirts, and board-shorts from my backpack, I stuffed them into my messenger bag. It bulged but it would do. My toothbrush and deodorant were already in there—travel compact size.
Without a word, Duncan followed suit. Grabbing his wife’s large tote, he stuffed in a few belongings and children clothes followed by whatever else he needed into his own small backpack.
A few moments later, the rustling and sounds of zippers ceased and we turned to face Akin.
“Ready when you are.”
Akin held out his hand.
Knowing what he wanted, I planted the money into his outstretched palm.
His fingers tightened over the bills before marching to the counter and inserting the money into a locked drawer.
“Let’s go.” Without a backward glance, he strode out the door.
Well, that was the fastest boarding sequence I’ve ever been through.
Duncan caught my eye as we all trudged after our pilot.
Lingering rain splashed onto our shoulders and mud squelched beneath our shoes as we exchanged bungalow for open sky.
The helicopter welcomed us into its belly.
After pre-flight checks and pilot given instructions, we left land for horizon for the second time and left Nadi behind.
Forever.
Chapter Seven
...............................................
E S T E L L E
......
Have you ever tried and failed, leapt and fell, believed and floundered? Defeat comes swift. Tragedy strikes fast. The world is dangerous, monstrous, unthinkable. But the unthinkable is where magic exists. Hidden between unthought thoughts and unspoken verses. Mysterious behind unseen messages.
The unthinkable is where greatness exists.
Be unthinkable. Be untameable. Be unstoppable.
Lyrics: ‘Unthinkable’ Taken from the notepad of E.E.
...
THE WHOP OF rotor blades.
The swoop of gravity.
The soar of flying.
I’d never been in a helicopter before. Even when I was lucky enough to score a job as an air-hostess, I’d never swapped fixed wings for propellers above my head.
I’m in a helicopter.
I’m going to an unknown resort rather than home to my comfy bed.
What the hell am I doing?
My fingers tightened the harness around my middle for the billionth time. The crackle in my headset was foreign and unwelcome. But despite the sway and rock of the machine, and the fear that I’d overstepped some sort of code keeping my life in balance, I was alive.
I was aware of everything.
From the slipperiness of the bench seat beneath me, the whirl of engines, the warmth of strangers wedged beside me to the tingling sensation of unwanted attraction for a man who confused and frustrated me.
E..v..e..r..ything.
Every heartbeat, every swallow, every trepidation of what awaited.
Whereas before, I’d felt nothing. I’d willingly wrapped myself in sameness so I never felt out of place because...why was that? Because I was afraid of change or the consequences of moving on by myself?
My life had changed more than once in the last few years. My family had left me alone (through no fault of their own), Madeline had uploaded something intrinsically private and made it global property, and I’d shed all notion of who I was to do something stupidly spontaneous.
But the rush as we soared away from Viti Levu and disappeared into the inky sky of raindrops and ocean made me thankful that I’d had the courage to leap without evaluating first.
If I’d remained afraid, I’d most likely be sitting in a nondescript hotel room waiting for my flight tomorrow. Instead, I was flying with complete strangers, at the mercy of the occasional wind buffets and cloud-blanketed stars, living more in the moment than I ever had before.
This would be a splendid song.
Half-formed lyrics filled my head, threading around the racket of the helicopter.
Pippa, the daughter of Duncan Evermore, grinned my way. She perched on her mother’s lap beside me. I sat in the middle while Duncan rested on my right with his son, Conner, on his knee. Galloway sat up front with the pilot. I was the lucky one holding everyone’s luggage.
Even though I’d been transformed into a suitcase holder, it couldn’t dampen my enjoyment. The view outside was just black—like the void of a nightmare or kiss of goodbye. An occasional sparkle of light from a boat below or island in the distance glittered as raindrops smeared over the windows.
Akin, the pilot, had made us all pull on inflatable life-jackets. I’d panicked for a moment, remembering the delays and random occurrences warning me not to board my commercial flight. But there’d been nothing since I’d decided to leap into the unknown. I had no fear. No reservations.
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