All of his attention is on me now.
“Why would you want to move the camp? We’ve been here the whole time.”
His eyes lock on mine, waiting, and I take a breath.
“I’mmoving to the other side of the island. Just me.”
For a moment, nothing changes. Then I see it—the exact second it clicks.
Dane straightens, the spear forgotten. “You’re joking.”
I shake my head. “I’m not.”
His eyes flick to the bag on my shoulder. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
A long silence stretches between us. I can almost see him turning it over in his mind, trying to find a version of this that makes sense.
“You mean for a few days… to clear your head or something?”
“No.” I hold his gaze. “I mean for good.”
That’s when his irritation starts to show. It pulls tight at the corners of his mouth, sharpening his jaw. “Why would you do that?”
I glance past him, out toward the ocean, where the morning sunlight shimmers across the surface.
“The island’s big enough. We don’t both have to stay here.”
He lets out a short breath that almost sounds like a laugh—but there’s no humor in it.
“Charlotte—”
“There are freshwater streams on the other side and coconut groves. I’ve seen them.”
“Oh, you’ve seen them, huh?” There’s irritation in his voice, something harder creeping in beneath it.
“Both of us can survive on our own. We don’t have to keep living on top of each other like this.”
His eyes snap to mine. “Living on top of each other?”
I break the eye contact because this is harder than I thought it would be.
“It doesn’t have to be like this.”
Something shifts in him.
“You think you’re going to go off and build yourself a little camp somewhere else?”
His disbelief is gone now. What’s left is sharper—edged with something darker.
“I can manage.”
He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “You canmanage?”
“Yes, Dane. I’m capable of taking care of myself.”
He studies me, and I can see his instincts kicking in. They’re the same ones that have kept us alive all these years, always measuring risk and running through the possible outcomes.
