“I feel like this should feel claustrophobic,” I said as we both climbed onto the bed. I hung at the edge, pulling off my boot and taking the brace out of my purse to slip on and tie up. “But this is weirdly cozy.”
“It’s comfortable too,” he said, sliding under the blankets, then holding them up for me to do the same. “And there’s a TV,” he said, passing me a remote from his side of the bed.
“What’s that?” I asked, nodding toward a leather-bound notebook.
“Let’s see,” he said, exhaling hard through his nose. “Looks like a manual. Apparently, we will need to maintain the generator if we want power.”
“That’s what that hum is. Do you know how to do that?”
“Worked with generators before. Not on a boat, though. There are instructions. Seems easy enough. The generator will cut off at nine tonight and run off battery power so the hum doesn’t keep us up.
“There’s also instructions on how to lift the anchor and drive back to land. So that’s something we should both read.”
“After a nap,” I specified as I rolled over and rested my head on his chest.
“Yeah, after that,” he agreed. He put the notebook down and slid his arms around me.
And nothing had ever felt quite so right as listening to his heartbeat, of feeling his fingers drifting through my hair, and having his arm tightly wrapped around me.
It was no surprise that I drifted off to sleep, safe in his arms, confident in the knowledge that we were as safe as it was possible to be.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Noa
We slept hard until grumbling stomachs woke us up around dinnertime. Then we only got up long enough to eat, take quick showers, and fall back into bed again.
It was the squawks of seagulls that eventually woke us early the next morning.
“Fuckers will find you anywhere,” Caymen said as I rolled onto my back and stretched the sleep out of my limbs.
“God, I don’t think I’ve ever slept that much.”
“We needed it. Our bodies have been through a lot the past couple of days.”
I could feel the lasting impacts of that. The pain in my feet, my shoulder, my ankle. As well as the soreness in my thighs, calves, and, yeah, ass, from all the running.
“How’s your ankle and shoulder doing?” he asked, lifting up my arm to check my elbow. God, I’d forgotten all about my elbows and knees. That felt like it happened ages ago already.
“I think the swelling hurts more than the fracture itself,” I told him. “My shoulder is okay. Achy. But I think it’ll be fine if I don’t bang it too much.”
“Your elbows and knees are closed up. Still might want to be careful so they don’t open up again, but they’re looking better.”
“The feet are going to be the worst. For both of us.”
We’d both been tiptoeing everywhere, trying not to put pressure on the cuts.
“We gotta redo our wraps or Ama will have our asses. Well, Ama will have yours. Zayn would probably make another joke about me losing my feet.”
“I think maybe international arms dealer was more his calling than medic,” I said, getting a chuckle out of Caymen.
“Why don’t you stay here? I’ll get us coffee and some of those breakfast scrambles.”
“Breakfast in bed? Yes, please.”
And not just because hobbling to the bathroom seemed to sap half the energy I’d just gained from sleep.
It was just… nice to be taken care of.
