by Jane Henry
To see Adrian.
I tremble a little when I think of our reunion, and part of me worries… will he welcome me back? Does he feel the same way about me as I do him?
Will he forgive me for what I did?
There’s nothing normal and regular about our relationship. I can’t write to him or expect a letter in the mail or go out on a date. No. We’ve had to get to know each other without the trappings everyone else has to navigate. There are no dating games or rules to follow.
Just us. Alone. Surviving.
I packed one small bag of essentials, but even those seem nearly superfluous now.
Alex was more than generous with how he orchestrated this. My death was staged, my body buried. He was able to obtain an I.D. for me to use if I decide to travel, and even contacted a scientist friend of his who was able to determine where our island is located. He enabled a small communication device to be connected to the power source and has insisted on weekly communication. I can also contact the witness protection program should the need for anything arise.
I’ll think of all that later, though. For now, I just need to get back to the island.
I couldn’t even enjoy my visit to Hawaii, though I tried. I ordered food in a restaurant and stocked way the hell up on razor blades that cost a fucking fortune. I took the longest, hottest shower I could stand and lathered myself up in fragrant soap. But my thoughts were elsewhere.
I’m exhausted from all the travel and have been on this helicopter now for hours and hours.
“Twenty minutes to landing,” the co-pilot says to me.
I nod.
The pilots flying me here have been amply compensated. They flew a private jet to Hawaii, and now we’re on a helicopter to prepare for a water landing.
The pilots work closely with the witness relocation program, so they ask no questions. My name is Janet Dole, a pretty lame variation on Jane Doe, and they’re flying the coordinates given to them from a superior. Alex obtained the exact coordinates from the rescue team that found me. I even have I.D. for Adrian for when the time comes for us to travel off the island and pay a little visit to Hawaii, Fiji, Australia, or New Zealand. My husband John Dole now has a passport as well.
Alex set it up so we’ll received dropped care packages twice a month, with basic luxuries and supplies from home, and anything else we request. I’ll be able to contact him when I need to, and can travel whenever I like.
But I’m not sure I’ll want to often.
When the island comes into view, I peer out the window. I’m looking for Adrian, but it’s silly to look when I’m so high up. And if he’s consistent, he’ll hide from the sound of a jet.
We’ve arranged for my things to be dropped, then a water landing for me as there’s no room on the island for a landing.
The helicopter bobs on the surface of the water. My stomach churns with nerves when I bid them farewell, leap from the aircraft, and swim to shore. Shortly after, I hear the deafening sounds of their take off.
With shaking legs, I swim toward shore. Though the jet takes off with a deafening roar, the ringing in my ears continues even after the jet is long gone.
Tears blur my vision. I’m a bundle of fucking nerves.
Did I make a mistake? Who the hell leaves civilization to return to a place like this?
Things look about the same as they did before. The shelter still stands there, the roof repaired with clean white shingles made from bark. I need to get this over with.
“Adrian?” I yell out, but my voice echoes and there’s no response. A light breeze rustles the palm leaves above my head. I look to my left and right, and note neatly-stacked logs, a pile of coconuts, his knives and axe leaning against the shelter. Has he gone fishing? Well, no. It’s way too late for that.
I place my things down and strip down to my shorts and tank top. I smile. It’s the first time I’ve smiled since I left here.
I yell his name, but again nothing but the sound of my own voice comes back to me. It’s when I get to the second, larger beach, that I begin to grow worried. When I left him, he was recovering from terrible injuries. Did he not recover from them? Did he grow sick, with no one to care for him and no real medicine to speak of, unable to call for help in anyway?
What have I done?
But no. I shake my head. I haven’t exhausted all the possibilities yet. And the pile of coconuts outside the shelter are evidence that he is indeed still alive.
Then where is he?
I go back to the shelter to look once more, but he’s still nowhere to be found. I pause when I get to the bedroom. The bed is neatly made. Beside it stands a roughly-hewn side table. It looks as if it were carved from solid wood. On the table lies a small bouquet of fresh flowers, like a memorial of sorts.
A memorial for me.
I really, truly have left my life behind.
I leave the shelter and head to the waterfalls. Maybe he’s gone for a dip, or to gather more fruit. “Adrian!” I call but still, I get no answer.
I slow when I get to the waterfall, as my body suddenly begins to do some strange, unpredictable things. My belly dips and clenches, my throat clogged with emotion.
He’s here. I can feel him before I see him. Adrian’s here.
But when I come into the clearing and look at the water before the falls, I don’t see him. I let out a little involuntary whimper. I need to see him so badly. I gave up everything, traveled across the world, and I need to see him. I made a horrible mistake leaving him.
Was it unforgivable?
I strip the remains of my clothes off and step into the water. It’s warm and welcoming, and envelopes me like a hug.
Welcome home.
Home. I’m more at home here than I was anywhere in California.
“Adrian?” I call, but no answer comes. I fear the worst, but I need to see.
I swim toward the falls, and get to the cave, the water cooling when I swim into the shade. I heave myself up and onto the floor of the cavern. If he’s not here, I’m not sure where else he could be. I’ll have to go back to the shelter and wait for him, but if he’s injured somewhere on this island…
I pull myself up onto the grass, and peer around, my heart hammering in my chest. My intuition speaks to me before my mind does, my heartbeat kicking up now that I know he’s here.
He’s standing by a tree, picking ripe fruit. He wears nothing but shorts, tanned so that his skin looks like dark caramel. His muscles ripple as he reaches for the fruit, his tattoo stretched across his back. To me, it’s like the most beautiful artist’s canvas. He’s bigger than I remember, rougher and rugged, his hair long and unencumbered, like some sort of Greek god.
I open my mouth to call him, but I can’t make the words come out. I can’t speak. My hands shake, and my body vibrates with the need to touch him, to hold him, to feel him. I stumble toward him on trembling legs when he turns.
He drops the fruit in his hands and freezes. “Nadine?” he whispers. He walks my way slowly, as if I’ll vanish like vapor if he goes too fast. When he reaches me, he extends his hand toward me and gently touches my hair. “Am I dreaming?”
I shake my head, take his hand in mine and pull him toward me. Without a word, I kiss him. I say with my lips what I can’t vocalize, not yet—I missed you. I never should have left you. You made me realize who I am and what I want, and what I want is you.
I’m sorry.
I love you.
He cups my face in his hands and holds me close. I breathe in and fill my lungs with him, my chest expanding as he breathes out. I’m enveloped in the smell of lemons and coconuts, focused on the feel of his coarse hair beneath my fingers, warm from the heat of the sun. Releasing my face, he rakes his hand down my body, still wet from the swim, and cups my ass. He lifts me up, and my legs wrap around his body. A thousand words are spoken in that kiss, the past and future collide and all we’re left with is right here, right now. Stripped down to nothing but our mere essences, we kiss with fervent
wonder.
He holds me up to him and gently lowers me to the ground. My back is against a soft blanket of green grass. He lowers his body on mine and I sigh into his mouth. He pulls away and whispers a heated, tortured, “you came back,” against my ear.
“I never should have left,” I say, my voice choked with meaning. “I don’t belong there anymore. I belong here.” I spread my arms out wide then bring them to rest on his shoulders. “Here.”
“It rained for six straight days after you left, like the island wept for you.”
Tears prick my eyes.
I’m home.
He leans down and flutters kisses along my temple and cheek. I close my eyes and let myself feel the roughness of his whiskers and silk of his mouth. My breasts swell and my belly dips with need. This. This.
He quickly strips and lowers himself down on me. “Baby,” he whispers. It’s the first time he’s ever called me that.
I like it.
I spread my legs for him, my eyes focused on his as he slides into me. We don’t speak a word, our bodies silently saying what words can’t convey.
You’re mine.
Welcome home.
I love you.
At the first thrust of his hips, I cry out. At the second, fresh tears dampen my cheek. He stakes his claim, making sweet love to me like we’re the only two people on earth.
And maybe we are.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Adrian
We sit by a little fire I’ve built outside. It’s a little cooler now that the sun has set. I’ve built a small fire pit with large rocks I’ve found around the island. I like to sit here at night. The fire keeps pesky bugs away. There’s something soothing about the flickering flames and gentle heat the fire gives off.
But tonight, Nadine sits on my lap. I sit on a roughly-hewn chair I made in her absence. I’ve been giving myself projects to do to occupy my mind, and even considered building a boat and making my way to another island somewhere. That’s just plain stupid, though. I have no idea what they’re saying about me in America, and there’s nothing like some loon with wild Tarzan hair and burn marks to arouse suspicion. And for all I know, with no real navigation or sailing equipment I’d just sail to my death anyway.
So I stayed here, and I’ve been working on crude carpentry. I have a few chairs, a stack of plates and bowls. She’s proud of the work I’ve done and admires it. I don’t let her talk much, though.
So after we built the fire, I sat down and pulled her onto my lap. She turned and burrowed herself into me, her cheek against my chest. She was so still, her breathing so soft, that I thought she’d fallen asleep.
“Nadine?”
“Mmm?” she asks.
“Thought you were asleep, baby.”
“Nope. I’m just soaking this up. Jesus, I missed this so damn much. I was an idiot.”
Without thinking I give her ass a good slap. “I don’t want to hear you say that again,” I warn. “You were not stupid. And anyway, I was the one who told you to go.”
She nods and smiles. “You know, that’s true. It’s actually your fault, then. Why’d you let me go?”
I wrap my arms around her and hold her even tighter. “I decided I didn’t want you as my captive,” I tell her. “I wanted you to be free.”
“I am,” she whispers.
We sit in silence until a log falls over in the fire. The crackling sound makes her jump, but my arms tighten around her and she quickly settles.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” I ask.
She nods, lifts her head, and looks up to me. “There’s actually a fucking lot to tell,” she says.
I smile at her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She grins at me. “Yeah. This is a good point,” she mutters. “So I got back home. When I got back there, they’d sold my apartment and gotten rid of my things because they thought I was dead.”
“Seriously?” I’m mad on her behalf. Jesus Christ.
“Yeah,” she says with a sigh. “Seriously. And then I get off the plane, and there are like all these reporters and flashing lights and so many goddamn people.”
“God, I fucking hate people.”
She laughs and sighs and buries her head on me again. “Me too. And this is why you’re mine.”
I nod. “Likewise. Go on.”
She goes on about her new apartment and how she couldn’t stand how it looked and felt, and how she longed to get back here, to our little patch of paradise in the middle of nowhere.
“Where there’s no beeping phones or trucks or text messages to answer or bills to pay.” I say softly.
“Yes. Where there’s none of that. And where there’s… what I really, truly do need.”
I look at her quizzically and lift her chin in my hand. “What’s that, baby?”
She looks shy, ducking her chin against my hand. “You, Adrian. I… well, maybe I got used to the way you are with me.”
“You missed getting your ass spanked,” I mutter. God, I missed teasing her. “You girls are all the same. You’re all ow, ow, ow, sir, that hurts! And then you go for a week or two without it and you need to be brought back to heel.”
She smacks my chest. “Brought to heel!”
I nab her wrist and drop my voice. “Damn right.”
Her pupils dilate, and she bites her lip. “Well maybe I did sort of miss it a little. And I really did miss the island. The serenity. Calm. And…” she pauses. “You.”
I have no qualms about the bald truth. “I felt like someone died when you left. Sorta wished I would. The bed felt lonely, and I thought I was gonna make myself crazy talking to myself. But I missed you, too.” I take her chin back in my hand, forcing her to look at me. “Because I love you, Nadine.”
She swallows, licks her lips, then whispers. “And I love you.”
I let go of her chin and let her burrow into me again.
“I hated being back in America. There’s so much fucking pretense about things.”
I nod. I agree. It’s why I never did play the goddamned games, and never regretted not playing them. The games I played with my family took on a whole other fucking meaning, too, so I was mired in layers and layers of goddamned deceit.
“Yeah, I hear you there. But didn’t you like your… hmm, how did you put it… body wash and cell phones and Wi-Fi and shoe shopping?”
Her shoulders shake with laughter against me. “Not as much as I thought I would.”
I sigh. “I could go for a steak, though.”
She sits up on my lap. “Well, now it’s time for you to hear the rest of the story…”
She fills me in on her interview and the insistence from her work that she get into therapy. She quiets when she gets to arriving at the therapist’s, though.
“Why did you stop?” I ask, weaving my fingers through her hair.
“Because I know you,” she says.
“What?”
“I know that what I’m about to tell you is going to make you so furious you’ll probably want to kill someone, and since I’m the only one on this island…”
I grip her arm and force her to look at me. “Don’t even joke like that.”
“Okay,” she says. “But I wasn’t joking about the other part.”
“Tell me.”
“Just don’t overreact.”
“For God’s sake, tell me before I have to spank it out of you.”
She sighs but smiles a little and nods. After she tells me every detail, I lift her off my lap and place her on her feet. She was right. She was fucking right. I do want to kill someone, but the person I want to murder is already dead, and by her hand.
“They’re total fucking leeches,” I fume, marching around the fire and running my hand through my tumbled hair.
She’s on her feet. “But they’re gone now, Adrian. And thanks to Alex, I am, too.”
I freeze. “Who the fuck is Alex?”
She grins at me like I just gave her a goddamned diamond. “Y
ou’re jealous,” she says. “You are so jealous.”
I cross my arms and glare at her. “You really need a spanking.”
She laughs out loud and shakes her head. “Alex was my boss. My very old, very happily married boss.”
I breathe out a sigh of relief.
“So Adrian… when I say it’s over, I mean it. You don’t exist anymore to any of them. And I don’t, either.” She walks over to the bag she left on the ground outside the shelter that I didn’t notice before and pulls out a navy-blue folio. “You are now officially Mr. John Dole.”
I tug out the one behind it and look at both of them. “And you’re Janet Dole?” I grin at her.
She nods.
“So… neither of us exists to anyone else in the entire world?”
Her eyes light up like little stars at night. “Exactly.”
I tug at my beard. “So we don’t have to get married or any shit like that, right? Our I.D. says we already are. And there’s no one to do the job anyway. I can just drag you by your hair to my cave and call you woman?”
She tosses her hair as if to tempt me and grins. “Perfect.”
THE END
Chapter one preview (Deliverance, NYC Doms)
“You son of a bitch,” I hiss, intentionally keeping my voice low. Crazy, half-cocked, vindictive ex-lover isn’t normally my thing.
Hell, there’s a first for everything, though.
“Diana! Stop. This is stupid, and girl, you know I know stupid when I see it because I’ve done all the stupid in my life.” Beatrice pleads with me to think twice as she shuffles toward me, trying to place her small frame between me and the car I’m about to destroy.
“Stop the lecture.” My hands tremble as I hold the keys, glaring past my blonde-haired, blue-eyed bestie, and focusing my hatred on the silver Maserati. I march past Beatrice, and before I can change my mind, dig the tip of my key into the gleaming exterior with maniacal glee. Crouching down, I take grim pleasure in destroying the most beautiful car I’ve ever looked at. Sat in. Been fucked in.
