22
The water licksat my shins, soaking my pants as the horse picks its way toward the shore. It’s dark except for the flashlight attached to the horse’s saddle.
This is the last fucking place I thought I’d find myself, but I shove down my discomfort because there’s something vitally important I need to do.
Find my fiancée.
I don’t curse her out for going after a stupid bird. It’s my fault. All of it.
If something happened to her…
No. I won’t think about that.
The cove’s treeline looms ahead, a dark landmark I fix on as my stomach lurches. I guide the horse toward shore and slip off as we make it up onto the beach. The sand is packed under my feet, firm and steady.
“Annie!” I call, grabbing the light from the horse and shining it ahead of me. “Six!”
No answer.
Her jet ski is tethered to the dock.
Reins in one hand, I stagger up the beach, waving the light ahead.
I’ve spent a lot of time with this woman in the dark. Searching for her, being with her, wanting her.
Before her, the dark was loneliness, solitude, emptiness.
I won’t leave her in that now.
So, I force myself up the beach, searching for what feels like hours. My phone doesn’t have reception, and I curse. She must be out here, but knowing she’s out of touch and I can’t reach her is impossible.
Every inch of beach feels hostile. Every step is darker than the last. I refuse to give up. If I have to search every inch of this island myself, I will find her.
“Fuck, Annie, where are you?” I murmur, fighting the panic.
The horse sidesteps as a gust of breeze comes up suddenly, darting toward the trees. Motion catches my attention, and my breath sticks in my chest.
“Annie?” I call, darting forward.
No answer, at least nothing audible. But I feel her. Sense her.
I head that way, renewed purpose in my steps. The first part of the brush catches at my clothes, the horse on my heels.
I shout her name again.
“Tyler?”
It’s small, but the sound of her voice has me inhaling a huge breath.
“Annie!”
The horse grudgingly lets me tug it inland, making low whinnying sounds as if it thinks this is a terrible idea too.
I tie the horse to a tree, my hands purposeful, though they slip on the wet reins. Then I stumble through the low brush, shining the light ahead.
The beam trips over a shape that doesn’t look like the forest floor—a glimmer of white. Followed by her face, her hands clutched to her chest.
“Six.” I drop to my knees next to her.