Surviving Us (19 page)

“Everything’s going to be okay,” I assure her again, questioning my own words as the wind wails dangerously around the cottage. “It’s just a little storm, nothing serious. It’ll all be over soon.”

As each minute passes, I feel more and more helpless. Lying limp in my arms, she cries until I think she runs out of tears, and then she cries some more. I’m not sure if it’s actual fear of something catastrophic happening to us now, or the memories the storm is evoking inside her that truly has her so distraught. I want to ask, but I don’t, scared I’ll upset her even more. Despite the fact we’re both here because we both experienced and lived through tragic events, she and I have been good about not dwelling on our haunted pasts.

Our relationship, or whatever you want to call this thing between us, is a prime example of living in the
now
. Other than learning basic things about one another, we speak very little about the people we were before we arrived in St. Lucia, and any mention of the future once we leave has been completely avoided. On purpose.

Right
now
, I just want to be around her all the time
—talking, hanging out, seeing her face light up when I surprise her, feeling her body unravel underneath me as she finds her release . . . all of it. I’ve never been one to live in the moment; I was preparing for my football career from an early age when my parents and I realized I was leap and bounds better than anyone else my age. Then the crash changed everything.

“I was only seven,” she whispers through sniffles, drawing me back to reality, “and I was so scared.”

I squeeze her tighter to me as she begins the story. Honestly, I’m not sure I really want to hear it, but if it makes her feel better to talk about it, I’ll listen. For
her
.

“It was the middle of the night and my mom came running into my room, yelling for me to wake up,” she swallows hard, “’cause of the storm. Then my dad came in and told her to go get in the bathtub; there was no time to get in the shelter. He picked me up and took me into the bathroom, sitting me in the tub next to her.”

Kissing the top of her head, I silently let her know I’m still with her. I can’t even imagine how painful it must be to relive this.

“I’m not sure why he left us there. He said he’d be right back. Then my mom went to find him, and she said she’d be right back. But they never came back.” She shudders and the tears begin to fall again. She still hasn’t looked up at me, but I can feel them falling on my legs. “The tornado tore right down the middle of our neighborhood, destroying everyone and everything in its path. Everyone but me.”

My heart hurts so badly for her. I don’t know the right thing to say, if there is even a
right
thing. I hope just being here for her is enough.

“The rescue crew found me the next day, still sitting in the bathtub under a heap of rubble, not a single scratch on my body.” Finally, she lifts her chin out of my chest, raising her swollen, wet eyes to mine. “For years I’ve wondered why I didn’t die too. Why was I spared? What was so special about
me
? I’ve lived with this incredible amount of guilt that I shouldn’t be alive, even thought about killing myself on numerous occasions, but I’m too big of a coward to do it.”

“Don’t you dare say that.” I can no longer stay silent with that comment. “You didn’t die, because it wasn’t your time yet. The cowardly thing to do would be to end your own life and not accept the time you’ve been given here.”

She smiles a small, exhausted smile. “I
know
that, but sometimes I just feel like this broken person inside, no matter how put together my life is on the outside . . . like it’s never gonna get any better.”

“I completely understand, baby. Believe me . . . I really do.” I rest my forehead against hers, the tips of our noses touching.

Amidst the torrential downpour and whipping winds outside, we stay like that for several minutes, our eyes doing all the talking as we breathe together as one, in our own little safe cocoon. Then, as if we can read each other’s thoughts, we both move to the top of the bed and lie back down with our heads on the pillows. Her back to my chest, I snuggle her in as close as physically possible, weaving our legs together as I nestle my face in her neck. I want her to feel safe.

“Davis?” she murmurs softly.

“Yes, babe.”

“Do you think we’re gonna die?”

“Eventually, but not on this trip.” I kiss her shoulder softly. “This trip is about us learning how to live again, not how to die.”

She sighs contently. “Davis?”

“Yes, babe.”

“I’m really glad you’re here. I wouldn’t want to learn how to live again with anyone else.”

“Me too, babe. Me too,” I answer. And I really mean it.

NEVER IN MY LIFE
have I been so happy to be woken up by the bright morning sun shining through the window directly into my eyes. Davis’ body is still wrapped protectively around me, and though I don’t want to wake him up, I want to take a look around outside. I attempt to stealthily slide out from underneath him, but he growls and yanks me back against him.

“Where you going?” he grumbles, burying his face in my hair.

I twist around in his arms to take in what a sleepy Davis face looks like. I’ve never spent the night with a guy before, seeing as I’m usually a moment away from a mental breakdown. But today, today I feel different . . . lighter. Running my fingers across his morning stubble, I lightly brush my lips against his. “I wanted to look around outside. The sun’s out, and I can’t hear the rain and wind anymore.”

He slowly opens his eyes, a concerned look etched across his face. “You sure you’re okay?”

I nod, smiling sheepishly at him. “I feel better than I have since I can remember. Thank you for listening last night. I’m sorry I broke down on you like that. When I woke up to the sound of the rain and wind, I just lost it.”

Shaking his head, he places his finger over my mouth to shush me. “No need for apologies. If anything I did helped you feel better, I’m happy to have done it.”

“Just being here was enough.” I kiss his finger. “As much as I didn’t want to talk about it, I think it’s what I really needed. I truly do feel great this morning, especially since we’re still alive and all. Maybe you should try it some time? I’m here to listen, if you need me.”

He withdraws his hand and closes his eyes, rolling over and off the bed without a response. “Let’s get dressed and take a look. I’m sure the others are up too.” And just like that, the walls go back up.

Internally reprimanding myself for pushing him, I follow his lead off the bed and put my bathing suit back on. “I need to go back to my place to get some clothes and shoes. I think we left my others outside yesterday,” I say, mainly to myself, because he’s already dressed and in the bathroom brushing his teeth.

“Wait,” he calls out once he rinses his mouth. “You aren’t going outside without me.”

Relief washes over me as I stand by the door waiting for him. At least he still cares not to let me wander off by myself. He walks up behind me and loops his arms around my waist, kissing the top of my head, and I melt into his touch. “Sorry ‘bout that. I’m just not ready to go there.”

“I’m sorry too. I just want you to know if you ever are, I’m here.”

“I know, Bristol. And thank you.”

Together, we make our way outside on the porch into the early morning light, our eyes roaming our surroundings. The two rocking chairs and small patio table are all on their sides, having blown into a pile on top of each other in the corner of the deck, while the hammock
—still connected by its hooks—is a twisted, knotted mess. Water spills over the plunge pool due to the excess rainfall, but falls through the cracks to the ground below.

We cross the wet wooden surface slowly, then down the small set of stairs to the ground for a better view of the resort. Surprisingly, other than several tree branches scattered about, there is no visible external damage to any of the nearby cottages, and the road, though muddy, has drained completely.

“Wow,” I murmur, stepping off the bottom step, “this is incredible. After how bad it sounded last night, I thought for sure there would be a lot more damage.”

“Hold on,” Davis, who is a few steps in front of me, calls out. He hurries back to me and bends down. “Here, get on my back. I don’t want you walking around barefoot. It looks okay, but better to be safe.”

I hop on for a piggyback ride over to my place, where we confirm there’s not any structural damage to it either. The porch looks similar to his, with all of the furniture blown around and the overflowing pool, but other than that, you’d never know anything had happened—roof, windows, and glass door intact.

Once we’re safely inside, he lowers me to the floor, swatting my ass as I scurry over to my suitcase to grab something to change into. Rummaging through my clothes, I pull out another bathing suit, a pair of shorts, and a black tank top, and then move towards the bathroom to put them on.

Minutes later, I emerge after a quick washcloth scrub down, teeth brushing, armpit shave, and deodorant application, dressed and ready to go exploring the rest of the grounds, only to find Davis staring somberly out the window.

“Everything okay?” I loop my arms around his waist from behind, causing him to startle with surprise. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. You were pretty deep in thought there. You sure you’re okay? I’m sorry again if I scared you with my overreaction and all the tears,” I apologize, rambling. “I know you probably didn’t want to hear—”

He abruptly clutches my hands and swings me around to the front of him, cutting me off midsentence. Cradling my chin in his hand, he gazes down at me, his eyes full of empathy. “I told you I was happy to be there for you, and I meant it. You don’t need to apologize again.” Softly kissing my mouth, one corner of his lips curls up in a smirk. “And you should know by now I’m just a moody bastard.”