“Sure, but I promise you, there is nothing inside.”
We shuffled past the eerie cavern and walked between two giant rock walls, with dense vegetation masking the sky, vines, and tree roots hanging above us. At times, the path would open wide enough that we could stand side by side, and then it would narrow again. Small broken rocks and a few lonely green ferns carpeted the trail. The way before us weaved this way and that, there was a constant breeze moving against me and the deeper we went, the louder the crash of waves became. After the last turn, the passage grew wider, and nature’s window opened before us with a view of the endless sky and sea.
Not daring to get any closer, I stopped a yard away from the edge of a cliff and dropped to the ground, stretching my legs. After so much walking in flip-flops, my feet couldn’t carry me anymore. Hunter crept forward until the toes of his shoes hovered near the rim. The strong wind smoothed his T-shirt around his body, the hem flapping like an unfurled sail.
My heart was in my throat at how close Hunter stood to the edge. “Aren’t you afraid to fall over?”
“Nah. Never been scared of heights,” he replied casually, looking over. His forearm muscles flexed and strained as his right hand gripped the rock wall, fingers digging into the creaks. “But if it makes you feel better, I can step away.”
He stepped back and moved to sit next to me, leaning back on the heels of his palms and crossing his long legs at the ankle. A sudden gust pummeled us, awakening goosebumps over my skin. I restrained myself from shifting closer to Hunter and stealing some of his warmth.
We fell into companionable silence, staring out at the unmeasured horizon fading up into the red-hued sky. Waves rose gracefully, whitecaps forming atop their peaks, arching their backs and curling under with deliberate practice. They appeared merciful and calm from a distance, but I’d learned firsthand how cruel and unforgiving they could be. I wondered if theBloody Maryhad trapped my father’s urn forever on the ocean floor or if it had escaped and he was now freely traveling in continuous undercurrents, finally exploring the world as he had always wanted.
“Tomorrow would be a nice day to sail,” Hunter said.
I could hear Bambi’s raspy voice saying the same thing to me: “Babe, tomorrow the wind and the waves will be on our side.” I hated when she used that nickname for me, but what I wouldn’t give to hear her say that again. My chest hurt at that, and then anger rose in me at her stupidity for not wearing the lifejacket from the start, for my stupidity of not noticing it was below the deck when I went out the first time, for not getting it sooner. She could have been here with me and Hunter, shooting the breeze. My mouth twitched. She would’ve loved to hunt treasure.
I wondered if my father would have also enjoyed the treasure hunt. I could without doubt picture him becoming friends with Edward over their passion for puzzles. But he always advised against gambling. Was treasure hunting considered gambling? Risk vs worth of pursuing. It came with thrill, hope, disappointment, and wasted time and resources. But then again, pursuing any dream, whether getting an oddball (but cool) college degree like puppet arts or turfgrass science, could be a gamble. Opening a business or choosing a life partner was a huge wager; one could lose so,somuch. Look no further than my mangled heart and impaired bank account.
Soft sunlight bounced off the walls and gave Hunter’s skin a healthy glow and a hint of gold to his windswept dirty-blond hair. He had an irresponsibly handsome profile with a straight nose, a razor-cut jaw, and a gorgeous mouth. The idea of adventure somehow made me see him in a different light. Of course, I had noticed all his heartthrob features before, but for some reason, right now, everything came in with ultra-sharp focus, making my cheeks burn.
“Do you have someone waiting for you back at Avarua?” Of course, if he had a special person, he would have mentioned it the first day we met, that soon someone would come to rescue us.
He side-glanced at me. “Like a girlfriend?”
“Or boyfriend or partner, or whatever. I won’t judge.”
“No girlfriend.”
I wondered what Hunter’s reason was to be a bachelor. Maybe he was busy with his job (was treasure hunting a job?), or maybe he was a player (no, he wasn’t cocky enough to be one), or maybe he was recently single (then I certainly wanted to know why). But to be nosy was rude, and really, I didn’t care. We didn’t need to become BFFs, we needed to get through fixing the boat while decrypting a pirate’s old message. So, with startling regret, I steered us in a different direction.
“Have you considered maybe selling this island?”
“Even if I wanted to, and believe me I thought about it, I can’t. The original purchase contract has a clause that the island has to stay in our family for at least a century before we can sell it.”
“Oh.” I smoothed strands of hair out of my face as I retied the bun on my head. “What will you do with the money if you find the loot?” Asking hypothetical questions about possible wealth was okay. It was similar to how each time Tina bought a Powerball ticket, we daydreamed about how she would spend the jackpot if she won. Most of her ideas changed, but two always stayed the same: build a house with a Sephora replica as her makeup room and have a million-dollar charity dinner date with Glen Powell for her, and Henry Cavill for me (she was, after all, a good friend).
Hunter’s chest expanded with a deep breath, and something in his face shifted. “I’d pay off my debt.”
“What kind of debt?”Okay. I know.It was rude of me to ask but it just slipped out. The debt that Phill dragged me into was such a shock to my system that if I even considered dipping my toes into the dating pool again, I would want to do a full credit history check before accepting a date invitation. Not that Hunter and I would date. Or be interested in dating… I really shouldn’t have asked it. So, I quickly added, “Like student loans?”
Student loans were okay to talk about. Almost everyone had them, and it wassort ofa proper loan to have, right? I should have kept my mouth shut.
“Yeah.” He slightly nodded as if in a daze, his eyes focused on the horizon. I had a feeling there was something more. Maybe he had defaulted on his credit cards and wasn’t comfortable discussing it. I opened my mouth to apologize for prying into his finances, but then his expression reanimated into a smile. “Then I want to open a low-key resort on this island. Nothing big. Maybe four or five bungalows over the water, a small restaurant, and plenty of fun water and land activities.”
“What about your deep-sea fishing business? You don’t like it?”
“It’s okay and can make good money, but it’s not something I want to do for the rest of my life. I always wanted to be in the hospitality industry. I could run deep-sea fishing as part of the water sports package.”
“If you want to stay closer to the water and sand, there are plenty of nice resorts in Florida,” I suggested, unsure why I had to throw in my home state. I wasn’t inviting him or anything like that.
Hunter regarded me for several beats with a ghost of a smile on his lips, but then he looked away. “I don’t want to go back to the States. Until I moved to the Cook Islands, I didn’t realize how not myself I was back there. The demands of modern culture were too much. My life was hectic. I was rushing to keep up with my friends, coworkers, heck, my next-door neighbor. I felt I was running a never-ending race. But here, my life slowed, and with it, my mind too. I feel so much better now. I’m not saying that the way the majority of people live back home is the wrong way to live; it’s perfect for most people, but it just wasn’t for me.”
I was that person. From a young age, the tempo of my life was go, go, go. I was busy with school, multiple clubs, then college, and later, a demanding job. I wasn’t even sure if I liked a fast-paced, frenzied life or not, because it was the only way I knew how to live. Then the only way I knew how to deal with my grief was to throw myself back into challenging work. I might have turned into a pseudo-recluse like Tina liked to call me (I preferred the termhomebody) but it helped. At least I thought it did; my mind was too preoccupied to notice my heart was broken.
“And maybe one day,” Hunter continued, “I’ll change my mind and go back, but right now I don’t see it happening. This part of the world is my home now.” An unexplained fracture formed somewhere deep in my heart.
“But running even a modest resort could still be a lot of work. The headache of dealing with the government and unappreciative customers,” I said. “Are you not afraid it will make your life hectic once again?”
