Into the Blue Page 8
He smiles, stretches his legs out on the bed, and folds his hands behind his head. “La Isla Azul.”
“The Blue Island.”
“You remember.”
I nod. “Why is it called that?”
“Because, from a distance the island appears blue. Just like mountains often do as the result of blue light being scattered in the atmosphere. So, when the island was first discovered, it was named for its blue appearance on the horizon.”
I smile. “Blue is my favorite color.”
“Then you’re in for a treat, because the water is the most beautiful shade of translucent blue I’ve ever seen. And so warm.”
“Do you go swimming a lot?”
“Every day. Well, not lately, but usually, yes.”
“Kellan.”
“I’d rather be here.”
“You’d rather be here, or Derek would rather you be here?”
“Makayla, I promised Derek I would keep you safe, but I’m not here for his sake.”
I feel the blood flame in my cheeks. “What’s your favorite thing about the island?”
He smiles and narrows his eyes at me. “I can’t tell you that.”
“What? Why?” My eyes light up with intrigue.
“I have a favorite spot, but it’s sort of a secret.”
“You have a secret spot?” I ask, pushing my lips together over an amused smile.
“I have a place I like to go to sometimes, yes.”
“Do the others know?”
“It wouldn’t be a secret if they knew, now would it?”
“Then why are you telling me?”
He shrugs. “You make me want to tell you things.”
My heart flutters for the second time this morning. “Then tell me where it is.”
“I can’t.” He smiles.
“You just said you want to tell me.”
“No. I want to show you.” He gazes at me and I feel a low buzz of electricity humming between us. “When you’re better.”
The current sends a strange mix of excitement, worry, and fear pulsing through me. I want to be around Kellan—in fact I’m fairly certain it’s a fundamental need at this point. But I don’t know how to process it all—what happened, what could happen, what I want to happen, and most importantly what I still fear.
Kellan said he stopped Quintero. But he has no way of knowing what Quintero did to me before he got there. What Quintero probably did, if I’m being honest with myself. What if I can’t get past it? What if...what if I’m ruined? What then?
* * *
It’s been twenty minutes since Mia drew blood from my arm, and I’ve been patiently watching her hover over various colored tubes on the bathroom counter. I sit on the edge of the bed while she works, waiting for her to tell me my fate.
“Okay,” she finally says, spinning around when she’s through. “You’re clean.” She exhales a relieved breath and so do I.
“Really? You’re sure?”
She smiles and nods. “As a whistle. But, we’ll do it again in a few weeks, just to be sure. Pregnancy tested negative too, but I expected it would, since you were on birth control.”
“Isn’t it too soon to be sure?”
“Blood tests are far more sensitive, but we can check again in a week or two if it makes you feel better.”
“Okay.” I drop my head back, feeling so much better.
“One last thing.” She holds up a small syringe filled with my new birth control and pushes a few droplets of the clear liquid through the needle.
I close my eyes and wait for her to stick me near my shoulder.
“One, two...”
“Ow!”
“Sorry!” She pulls the needle out. “All done.”
“Makayla, are you okay?” Kellan calls from the other side of the door. I told him I needed a few minutes alone with Mia, but I didn’t tell him why.
“She’s fine,” Mia answers, rolling her eyes. “What does he think I’m doing to you in here?”
I laugh softly and shake my head. “You can come in now,” I call to Kellan.
He opens the door and eyes me and Mia curiously. “Jason was looking for you,” he says to Mia.
“Isn’t he always?” She laughs. She collects everything from the bathroom, zipping it all up in her bag. “I’ll check on you later.”
“Okay, thanks Mia.”
When she leaves, Kellan asks, “Are you okay?”
I press my lips together and nod. “I just needed her to check something for me.”
He sits down on the edge of the bed and rests his elbows on his knees. He laces his fingers together and looks at me. “Something you don’t want to talk about?”
“Kellan, I know you stopped something from happening when you found me, but it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen before.”
His face hardens and he looks across the room.
“There’s no way to know for sure, not unless I remember on my own. But I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t...” I swallow the shame I feel, but tears fill my eyes anyway. “That I wasn’t ruined or something.”
“Ruined?” He looks up at me with incredulous eyes.
“That I didn’t get something,” I whisper, “from anyone.”
“Makayla.” He turns toward me and raises his hand to my face, slowly, intentionally, to be sure I know he’s going to touch me. And I let him. He cups my face and gazes at me. “If you think that could ‘ruin’ you, you’re so very wrong.”’
My mouth goes dry and my heart races, sending blood pulsing around my wound, making me wince. “Ah.” I hold my hand to the spot and close my eyes. When I open them again, Kellan’s hands are in his lap and he’s watching me.
“You need to rest. Dr. H will be here soon to look at your stitches.”
“I was negative.”
He looks at me and I see the comprehension on his face.
“I’m fine. I’m still...clean. The only thing they gave me was a little PTSD. But I hear talking about it helps.”
He smiles softly and says, “Yeah, me too.”
We spend the rest of the day hanging out in my room, watching the storm outside my bedroom window, listening to the thunder and waiting for the lightning strikes, just like I used to do when I was little.
“Favorite song,” I say to Kellan, who is sitting in a chair beside my bed with his legs outstretched, feet crossed on the mattress, and his hands folded behind his head.
“Simple Man.”
“Favorite car.”
“Old or new?”
“Either.”
“1970 Chevelle.”
“Favorite movie. You can take a second, this one’s big.”
He looks up and considers his answer. “Gladiator.”
“Typical.”
“It’s a great movie.”
“Shhh. Rapid fire, remember?” He smirks and nods obligingly. “Favorite TV show.”
“Friday Night Lights.”
I push my lips together over a smile at his answer. “Word aversion.”
“Ointment.”
“Food aversion.”
“Grapes.”
“That’s weird.”
“So are grapes,” he laughs.
“Something else that’s weird about you.”
He bends his knee and shows me a small birthmark by his ankle that looks exactly like the state of Florida.
“Huh.” I laugh and he straightens his leg.
“Best friend.”
“Adam.”
“Best day.”
He smiles softly. “Maybe it hasn’t happened yet.”
“Fair.” I press my lips together over a smile. “Worst day.”
“My last day in Afghanistan.” He creases his eyebrows and looks down.
“Something you don’t like to talk about.”
“My last day in Afghanistan.”
I give him a small, understanding smile.
“Okay, your turn.” He drops his feet to the floor and leans forwar
d, propping his elbows on his knees. “Favorite song.”
“Impossible.”
“Too bad, you have to answer.”
“Fine. Unchained Melody.”
“Favorite car.”
“I live in New York City.”
“Okay, you get a pass on that one. Favorite movie.”
“The Notebook.”
He smirks.
“What?”
The corners of his mouth turn down over a smile. “Nothing, it’s just very romantic.”
“Don’t knock it until you’ve seen it.”
“I’ve seen it,” he says, tilting his head to the side.
I ignore the way he’s looking at me. “Next question.”
“Favorite TV show.”
“Friday Night Lights.” I smile and the corners of his eyes crinkle.
“Word aversion.”
“Tickler file.” I laugh. “I know it’s two words.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“It’s awful, right? People say it at work sometimes and I literally feel like I could die. They just breeze right over it and, I’m sorry, but it sounds utterly sexual.”
He drops his head back and laughs. “Okay, you got me beat there.” He laughs harder and so do I, but it tugs at my stitches.
“Stop, I can’t laugh,” I say, pressing my hand to my shaking stomach. “It hurts.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I say, trying not to laugh. “Next.”
“Food aversion.”
“None.”
“None?”
“I like everything.”
“That’s not possible.”
“What can I say? I’m not picky.”
He narrows his eyes skeptically. “Something weird about you.”
“I can touch my nose with my tongue.”
“Prove it.”
I stick my tongue out and touch the pointed tip to the end of my nose.
“Freak.”
“Yeah, well. We all have our talents.”
“Best friend.”
“Callie. But you already know that.”
“Best day.”
“I hope it hasn’t happened yet.”
“Worst day,” he says carefully.
I drop my chin and consider that. “The easy answer is the day I was taken. It was...terrifying. But it still doesn’t compare to what I felt when I found out my parents were gone. It shattered me. In just a few seconds, everything I knew, my entire belief system was destroyed. My innocence vanished. It’s something you never get back. That was definitely the worst day of my life.”
“I’m so sorry.”
I nod. “It took me a long time to talk about it.”
“You told me a little bit about your dad, but what about your mom? What was she like?”
I smile automatically, thinking of her pretty face, frozen forever at forty-three. “She was a doctor. An obstetrician. She was so smart. She was still in med school when she had me, but she kept going. She finished school and her residency, all while raising me. It must have required so much of her time, but I don’t remember her being away. I just remember when she was there. She would read to me at night and sometimes we’d make cookies.” I reach for a lock of my hair and twirl it around my finger. “When I was older, she had her own practice, so she made her own hours. When she wasn’t on call, she was usually with me. We were really close.” I shrug. “She was my person.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t go into the medical field, with your parents’ backgrounds.”
“I was going to, actually. But the thought of going through med school alone, without them here to help me through it...it was too much. It felt too overwhelming. It made me too sad. So, I became a math major instead.”
He narrows his eyes. “And now you’re a...financial analyst?”
“A senior financial analyst, thank you.”
He smiles. “Do you like it?”
“Yeah. Kind of.” I laugh. “I’m good at it.”
“Being good at something doesn’t mean you enjoy it.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter now anyway. It’s not like I can go back to it.” I shake my head at the troubling thought.
“It’s not too late to become a doctor.”
I smile, but I think he’s actually serious. I glance around the room, thinking of the improbability of my current situation, and shrug. “I guess crazier things have happened. Who knows what the future holds. If I have a future,” I say, glancing down.
“Makayla, you have a future. You’re going to get through this.”
“How do you know?”
“Marc won’t hurt you again. No one will. I’ll make sure of it.” He looks at me with sincerity in his eyes and I believe him—he’ll protect me. Here. But then what?
Unwilling to give the what any further thought, I ask, “Were you good at your job? At being a marine?”
“I was very good at it.”
“Did you like it?”
“I loved it. Until the end.”
I nod with understanding. “Why did you join?”
“I had a knack for fighting and nothing to lose. Seemed like the easiest way to get free room and board.”
“Did you get into a lot of fights growing up?” That would explain why he never found a permanent home.
“A few.”
“Troublemaker.” I smirk at him.
He drops his head to the side and asks, “Do you know who Chris Kyle is?”
“No.”
“He was a Navy SEAL. He was one of the most lethal snipers in American history. They made a movie about him. And in the movie, when he was a child, his father tells him that there are three types of people in this world. There are sheep, there are wolves, and there are sheepdogs. The sheepdog protects the flock—the innocent.” He shakes his head and explains, “I didn’t get into fights because I liked to fight. I did it to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. But being a sheepdog has a price. I’ve killed a lot of people,” he says roughly, and I can see how it haunts him.
“You killed bad people. Like the ones who hurt me.”
“Yeah. And I’d do it again. I’d do it without a second’s hesitation.”
I nod softly, feeling comforted by the thought, right or wrong. “I know.”
Chapter 7
Makayla
“Makayla?” Jason says, knocking on my open door.
“Come in.”
“How are you feeling?”
I’ve been on the island almost two weeks and I’m finally getting my stitches out today. “I feel good.” I offer a warm smile, sensing his apprehension. “I’m ready to get these stitches out and then maybe get out of this house.” I laugh and so does he.
“I bet.” He runs his long fingers through his wavy brown hair, and I notice the light sprinkling of freckles on his cheeks and the bridge of his straight nose. “Where’s Kellan going to take you first?” he asks, and I feel my cheeks warm at the mention of his name.
It hasn’t gone unnoticed that Kellan has spent the majority of the last two weeks by my side. There are still things I don’t know about him, like what happened in Afghanistan, but I trust him more than anyone. He makes me feel safe and calm, even with all the chaos in my head, like the eye of a storm that’s gentle and still. He makes me forget the looming danger, the unknown that’s waiting for me, and the muted memories I fear will attack without warning. He’s like my own personal white noise.
“Where would you take me?” I ask Jason.
“That’s easy. The rainforest.”
“There’s a rainforest?” My eyes widen with curiosity.
He crosses his arms and smiles. “Well, a transitional rainforest, but I assure you, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen back home. It’s a lot of hiking, though. I don’t know if you’d be up for it,” he says, narrowing his eyes.
“Are you kidding me? I climbed twenty flights of stairs every day at Syntec.”
&nbs
p; “That’s impressive. But you’ve just recovered from a pretty serious injury.”
“I’m up for a challenge. Besides, I need to build some strength back. All this lying around is making me soft.”
“All right, we’ll go soon. As long as everyone agrees.”
“You promise?”
“Yeah.” He laughs and drops his chin. Then he shoves his hands in his pockets and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
“What is it?”
He gives me a remorseful look and says, “I just wanted to tell you that I’m really sorry about what happened the other day...when I touched your leg.”
“Jason—”
“I wasn’t thinking. You’ve been through something that I have absolutely no experience with and I didn’t know it would cause you physical stress. But Mia explained it to me.”
“I feel like I should be the one apologizing. You didn’t do anything wrong and I’m embarrassed that I made you feel like you did.”
“Well, that’s just absurd. You can’t control it.”
I shrug. “I sort of can. I’m trying to anyway.”
“How?”
“Come here,” I say, meeting him in the middle of the room. I hold my hand up, palm facing him, fingers pointed to the ceiling. “Put your hand up.”
He gives me a tentative look.
“Put your hand up,” I encourage. “It’s okay.”
He holds his hand up and I press my palm and fingers to his. “See. As long as I know it’s coming, it doesn’t trigger anything.”
“Really?” he says, intrigued.
I smile up at him reassuringly.
“What’s going on?” Kellan asks curiously, finding us standing inches apart.
Jason drops his hand and turns to face Kellan. And Mia and Adam, who’ve followed him into my room.
“I was just proving something to Jason,” I say, giving Kellan a knowing look, but he doesn’t seem nearly as intrigued by my experiment.
“Are you ready to get your stitches out?” Adam asks, smiling at me with his medical bag slung over his shoulder.
“Yes. I am very ready.”
“I figured since I put them in, I could take them out. If that’s okay with you. Unless you’d rather wait for Dr. H. He’s at the village tending to a sick girl, so he won’t be back until later this afternoon.”
I shake my head. “I don’t mind if you do it.”