Johnny & I : The Island by Daria Paus (best novels to read txt) 📗

A boat lay right in front of my eyes, and it didn’t occur to me that this boat could be our savior. We were trapped, having faith in some men which I had never seen to come to our rescue. This boat could take us to the mainland. I could go home! The excitement died down just as fast. If I did, I’d never see Johnny again.

I took a few hesitating steps toward the boat, then I stopped again. It was so easy, all I had to do was call out to it. They would hear me; they would come to see what was going on. They would help a fellow storm survivor—I was sure of it.

I couldn’t bring myself to open my mouth. Images of Johnny filled my mind, and I smiled like a fool at nothing in particular. Thoughts of him made my heart start to beat faster again. Stop, my inner voice screamed. But I couldn’t banish the thought of his delicate hands on my skin no more than I could stop my galloping heart. I wasn’t ready to leave him. I’d only just met him.

The boat, the little voice reminded me. Go home, it’s the right thing to do. Maybe it was? I wanted to, but at the same time, I wanted to stay right here on this island forever. Johnny was certain his people would come. Was it so wrong to just wait for that to happen? A few more days couldn’t hurt anyone. Johnny wouldn't want to go any more than I did, so technically I’d be doing him a favor, wouldn’t I? The creeps were safely locked away. The skillful knots I’d mastered were strong enough to hold a raging bull. There was no way they could break free. Even if they did, they were behind a heavy door with a heavy lock.

We were safe. We could stay.

Just a few more days . . .

Before I could change my mind, I started to retreat. With eyes still locked on the boat, I backed away. When the branches hit my back, I turned and ran back up the sand path.

22

Johnny's Truth

I didn’t mention the boat to Johnny, but it stayed on my mind the whole night. And when I snuck back out early in the morning, the boat was long gone.

Warming a can of baked beans while rolling a lump of mixed frozen vegetables around the frying pan, I had a hard time keeping my eyes opened.

In the light of the day, and with a head cleared of alcohol, I was still torn between wanting to get home and wanting to stay. Having both was not an option, but it didn't stop me from dreaming. It would never happen, but I couldn't banish the image of him in my own bed back at the farm.

"Let me help." His voice snapped me out of my daydreams and I turned to look at him with a small smile on my lips. I shook my head.

"You need to rest." Even though the blood was long rinsed away, and the blue t-shirt covered most of the bruises, I knew what was under there.

"I'm fine," he said.

"Geez," I gestured toward him. "You’re not fine."

He rolled his eyes but remained seated.

I gave him a smile, then returned to chopping up a few more frozen vegetables.

We ate in silence, and I stuffed everything away after we were done. Then I sat opposite from him at the kitchen table, lazily sipping the coffee while my mind once again drifted to that boat. I had let it slip away, but it wasn't the only boat on the sea. There could be people out there searching for me. Someone would come. It was just a matter of time.

"Bree?"

"Hmm?"

"I uh—"

I waited for him to go on.

"You must have questions."

For a moment I was confused. I’d been so wrapped up in my own thoughts I had no idea of what he was talking about. But as he threw a meaning look toward the basement door, it suddenly hit me, and I realized he was misinterpreting my silence.

I didn't correct him, and when he mentioned it—there were questions. I just hadn't brought them up. If I didn't talk about it, it hadn't happened. That’s how I felt.

I nodded slowly.

He took a sip of his coffee, then put the mug down.

"About what they said . . ." He didn't know how to finish the sentence and the look on his face made me feel bad for him. He’d come out here to get away from the nightmare he seemed to be living in back in reality, only to have it follow him like a tail.

I made it easy on him. "Nothin' of what they said was true, I know."

"You’ve read the tabloids."

"But that doesn't mean you did what they say."

He let out a shaky breath. "True." He ran a hand through his hair, brushing it out of his face. "But what they say, what these—" He cut himself off with a deep sigh.

"Those accusations are all bullshit," I said. "We all know that."

"Thank you."

I smiled, reaching out across the table to put my hand over his.

"How did they get here?" I asked the main question that had been on my mind from the start.

He was silent as he thought, and the puzzled look on his face told me he had as little clue as I had.

"I don't know," he said at last. "The only thing that makes sense is . . ." He paused as if to consider. "They followed me.” He frowned, and seemed to think. “Or they came on my boat." He looked down at our hands before continuing. "I wouldn’t have noticed. I just wanted to get the fuck out of there. Fast."

I nodded thoughtfully. It made sense, but it didn't make the whole thing less creepy.

"But why did they wait so long to—" My voice broke and tears built up in my eyes. The moment I asked the question the