Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 103931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
It’s only a few feet from the bed, and I’m thanking the universe that I won’t have to sleep in a pond tonight.
Plopping down onto the mattress, I place my hands on my head as I try to figure out what the hell I’m going to do.
It’s only a matter of time before the whole place is wet. Rain pours through a gaping hole in the roof.
Of course, this is my life.
Why wouldn’t this happen to me?
Everywhere I turn, something else goes wrong.
I can just imagine the cosmic joke being told up in the clouds right now. The gods, laughing and pointing down at me, shaking their heads in amusement as they marvel at how pathetic I must look.
Tears well in my eyes, but I push down the shattering feeling sitting heavy in my belly, and don’t let them to fall.
I’ve lived through worse.
A mouse-infested apartment is probably not worse than a gaping hole with water pouring down in the middle of a tropical storm. Then again, my best friend Melissa would have burned the place to the ground. She’d sleep in a pond any day to avoid a single mouse.
Not me. I cannot be wet.
There is no way I can stay here. But where do I go? Is there even a dry hut to be found on this island?
Maybe the rain will let up soon and I can get someone out here to fix it?
No chance.
The hole was there when I arrived, but nobody rushed to patch it when the sun was out. I’m absolutely screwed.
I let out a long-drawn-out sigh before I head back outside and into the storm. The raindrops feel like tiny needles, piercing the skin on my face. I look up and see the broken part of the roof, and pieces of jagged wood are clearly visible.
Nope. That won’t be fixed anytime soon.
Turning my head, I look over at the door to Paxton’s hut, and then I look toward the path I could take back to the main camp.
The wind picks up, blowing my hair as I take a few steps in that direction. I hesitate for a moment. Thoughts of Paxton and his smug smile fill my head.
He would love to see me like this—alone, wet, and desperate.
No.
I shake the thought away. That’s not how it is anymore. He was decent today. He even drank with Teagan and me. It’s time to give the man the benefit of the doubt. I’ll ask Paxton for help. I take a deep breath and make my way over to his hut. I pause just outside the door, wiping the rain off my face before giving three quick knocks on the door.
“Hold on,” he calls from inside, his voice gruff.
“It’s Mallory,” I shout over the wind, my voice barely audible.
The door swings open, and Paxton stands there, looking at me with an expression of disbelief on his face. “You look like a drowned rat,” he says, his tone shocked yet sympathetic.
I manage to give him a weak smile before pointing over at my hut.
“My roof . . . it’s broken.” I gesture to the spot on the thatched roof that’s the reason I’m standing in front of this man like an idiot.
Paxton nods and steps outside into the rain. He looks up at my roof, his face turning grim.
“That sucks. No way is that getting fixed.”
“That’s what I figured,” I say sadly, watching as Paxton watches me. “Can I—can I come in?” I ask hesitantly.
Paxton steps aside, allowing me to walk past him. My clothes are drenched with rainwater, and with every step I take, a puddle forms. Paxton quickly closes the door behind me. Then he dashes across the small space and returns a second later with a towel he must have grabbed from his bathroom.
I wrap it around my shoulders. “Thanks.”
The room grows quiet around us, the only sounds coming from outside as the winds batter the wood.
“This is awful.” I reach up and start to run my hands over my sopping hair. “I’m not drunk enough to deal with this.”
He snorts. “We should remedy that. Not like there’s anything else to do.”
“Grabbing the rum was genius,” I offer, meaning it.
“Sometimes I’m actually good for something.” He winks before turning around and grabbing the bottle off the dresser.
Paxton doesn’t bother with glasses before he takes a swig, and then he’s handing the bottle over to me. My hands wrap around the cold glass of the bottle, and I don’t mess with a sip. I gulp it down.
It’s warm, yet the warmth is exactly what I need right now. After another large drink, I hand it back to Paxton, who takes a big gulp.
“What a fucking disaster.” He shakes his head. “And I’m not just talking about the roof. Everything is a fucking shit show. The day. The movie. Everything.”