Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Everyone’s working: Jayson, Dom, Paola, Lesley, Dirk, and a few guys from the other societies that offered to pitch in. Emilio wipes his forehead and winks at me, the sunlight glittering off his sweat-drenched chest, as he digs out more burned remains.
My back’s aching. My feet are exhausted. My arms are burning from days of cleaning, and we still have days more to go.
I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.
Calico House was like a friend to these people. It was like a child to Emilio. Cleaning the remains is hard for them, especially when they come across signs of their old life: clothes, ripped pictures, broken laptops, books and movies and more. It’s all destroyed, mashed into a pulp from the rain, mixed with mud and ash, but beneath it all the concrete foundation of the house remains in place.
Undamaged and unbroken. Somehow, it survived the extreme heat of the fire.
Emilio says it’s a minor miracle. I’m not sure I believe in miracles, but I do believe in him, and if he says we can rebuild then we’re going to try.
After a while, we take a break. I join Emilio in the shade of some palms while everyone else grabs water and sandwiches for lunch. I lean against him and breathe his smell and he wraps his arms around me, and we sit there for a little while, not saying anything, only looking at what’s left of the house.
“Once that’s all cleaned up, the hard part begins.”
I laugh gently. “You don’t mix words.”
“It’s going to be a shitshow. Every bit of material we’ll need will have to come over by boat.”
“Good thing you found one already.”
He sighs and nods. “Good thing, but it nearly cleaned us out. In the meantime, I’ll have to do smuggling runs.”
“You won’t do them alone anymore at least.”
“You’re coming with me? Here I was thinking you’d never set foot on a boat again.”
“The storm wasn’t great, but I liked what happened after.”
He smirks and kisses me, biting my lower lip. “I bet you did.”
“Besides, we’re in this together now, right?”
“Right.” He leans his head back against the trunk. “I’ve been thinking. I have this year and next year left, then I’ll graduate. But maybe I can push graduation back a year or two and stay while you’re still here.”
“How will you manage that?”
“I’ll get a master’s.”
“In what? Mafia Studies? Advanced Smuggling?”
“Sure, if they offer those courses. Otherwise, I’ll just do business.”
“How boring.”
He chuckles and moves closer to me. “There’s nothing boring about being with me and you know it.”
I tilt my chin up and kiss him. “That’s true.”
“We’ll rebuild Calico House. We’ll get the smuggling operation going again. It won’t be what it was, but Dom and Nathan can carry it on. I have more cousins and siblings, you know.”
“Really? How big is your family?”
“Big. We like to reproduce.” He gives me a sharp look, eyes sparkling. “I hope you don’t mind.”
I blush deeply. “I never thought about kids before.”
“Start thinking, my Kaye. Once we’re off this island, I’m going to marry you and introduce you to my world. Can you handle that?”
“If I can handle everything we’ve been through already, I think I can take anything.”
He holds me tighter and I lean against his head. My thoughts drift to Dean Wotherspoon and his last moments, the way he fell over the edge so quietly and disappeared into the waves below. His body was never found, but the suicide note was uncovered the following day. His death was like a rocket under the campus, and everything was crazy for a few weeks, the speculation going wild.
Two people died in the same spot in two years. People thought there must be a serial killer or maybe the island’s cursed and haunted.
But the authorities knew better, because Lesley spelled it out in the dean’s suicide note: he jumped because of his guilt over Lucy’s death and his involvement in what happened.
The truth may never come out. I doubt the dean’s family is interested in spilling even more tea and birthing dozens more rumors about what happened last year. It’s been a month now, and already the discussing is dying down as new drama appears, usurping all the old excitement.
There’s only one loose end left.
Malcolm. He’s standing across the burned-out space with Lesley and the others, talking and laughing. He’s sweating, covered in char, a streak of it along his forehead. Lesley’s smiling at him and batting her eyes. He’s smirking back.
“Is there something going on with those two?”
Emilio shakes his head. “Not that I know of.”
“Seems like there is.”
“Lesley’s just keeping him close for now.”
“You’re not worried about what he knows?”
“Malcolm’s pragmatic and morally flexible. He understands that it’s in his best interest to forget about what happened. Besides, I have recordings of all our conversations.”