Today is fishing day.
And tonight, we would eat something substantial for the first time in days.
Please...
The children cheered, but Galloway shook his head. “This isn’t a fix to our dehydration problems, Estelle. It will take all day to get a single pint. Sure, it will tide us over, but we need more.”
“Oh.” My heart fell. A single pint between four of us...that wasn’t enough. “We have two funnels. Does that make two pints?”
“Yes, but it’s still not enough.” He squinted at the new sunshine. Not one cloud in the sky. Not one threatening rainstorm. “We need rain. But before it does, we need to have things ready to store as much as possible.”
Once again, I imagined weaving waterproof baskets.
Don’t be ridiculous.
I could barely mend a hole in a sock, let alone weave a water goblet. How would we store it? What could we possibly use?
Galloway followed my concerns. “For now, we’ll dig a trench and waterproof it somehow so we can catch large quantities—if and when a storm comes.”
“What about the helicopter? We can use some of the metal as a large dish.” Conner piped up. “And the life-jackets can line a hole in the sand, too.”
A smile split Galloway’s face. “Good thinking.” Ruffling the boy’s hair, Galloway hitched his crutch under his arm. “We’ll head over after breakfast and see how easy it is to dismantle the fuselage.”
I padded behind them. “Correction, Conner and I will head over. You will rest with Pippa.”
Galloway spun around. “No way. I’m not being a bloody invalid anymore.”
I couldn’t breathe as he glowered with blue intensity.
I swallowed. “Fine.”
Not fine.
I’d just leave without his permission.
I was the one least hurt.
It was up to me to do the most work until the others healed enough to participate.
We didn’t speak as we huddled around our belongings and slowly savoured the last of our food and water.
I licked my fingers, savouring my final mouthful.
That’s it.
No more.
From here on out...we would have to hunt.
Chapter Twenty
...............................................
G A L L O W A Y
......
I THOUGHT SOLVING our water crisis would make me feel better about myself.
It did the opposite.
Estelle was so damn grateful it made me feel like swine flu. She’d done so much for us, yet she treated me like a bloody king for the one minuscule thing I’d achieved.
Yes, I’d remembered how to snatch water from thin air. But that wasn’t my geniusness—that was my mentor back in the States.
I couldn’t take credit.
Estelle was the one who’d cast my leg, Conner’s wrist, and dressed Pippa’s back. She was the one worrying about us at night, giving us fresh leaves to line our damp sandy beds, trying to forgo her last mouthful of muesli bar so the kids had more to eat.
She was the saint on this island.
Not me.
And for her to treat me like one...well, it pissed me off.
Made me angry.
Made me so bloody livid that I couldn’t get over the pain in my system and the break in my ankle to be better for her.
Not to mention that kiss between us.
What the hell was that about?
My cock had hardened to a damn palm tree, desperate to get inside her even though I didn’t deserve the kiss, let alone anything else.
I accepted my ration of food as Estelle broke apart the last muesli bar and nibbled hers with determination. I inhaled mine in one bite. I wouldn’t taunt my system with tiny tastes. It wouldn’t do me any better to eat fast or slow.
But I did know what would make me feel better.
Being productive and helpful.
My eyes landed on Estelle’s exposed arms and legs. She still wore Conner’s black t-shirt and cotton shorts. Conner wore similar attire of chequered board-shorts and a grey t-shirt, and Pippa wore a pink skirt and frilly tank top.
Instead of unblemished skin, they were all pink from being in the sun and swollen bumps marked our forearms and legs from mosquitoes.
The freaking bugs had killed us. We didn’t have coverage and were easy blood sacks.
That needs to be rectified.
How? I had no freaking idea.
Estelle finished her breakfast and tucked the empty wrapper and bottle into the pile of belongings so it didn’t litter the sea. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as she grabbed something from her handbag and turned her back on all of us.
I hated myself for watching.
I hated that I couldn’t stop my eyes drinking in glimpses of her naked back as she changed from t-shirt to bikini top now the heat had returned.
My cock twitched as she struggled to tie the strings, wrangling with the black material still strapping her ribs.
I was a damn pervert. A pervert who lay on his back giving in to weakness and injury.
Estelle managed to complete the bow, before turning to pick up a few items and forage in the black survival bag the pilot had in the cockpit.
What the hell is she doing?
My leg and foot didn’t feel any better and the constant throb made my temper nasty. I’d snapped at poor Pippa when she’d asked a billion questions about the water collector. She’d only been inquisitive, but her questions showed me how much of a fraud I was.
Estelle had given me a stern look, making me feel like scum (worse than scum, the algae infesting scum).
Self-pity was an ugly monster, and I wanted it out.