Summer by Summer by Heather Burch

moved her hair to see her face, but shegroaned. She’s hurt. That single thought snapped me into action. My eyes scanned the immediate area. Rocks on one side, beach on the other. I shook her, hoping she wouldn’t hear the panic in my voice. “Wake up!”
    Sand caked the thick brown lashes that hooded her eyes. Her head moved slightly. She blinked several times, frowned, and then there they were, those green seas of calm. “We’re alive?” she croaked through a throat that sounded about like mine felt.
    When she leaned up to move from me, a sharp pain hit my side. I winced. She took this as an invitation to throw herself off.
    “Did you break something?” she said, and before I could answer, her hands were unbuckling the life jacket and throwing it open. She stared down at my chest, a frown on her face and her green eyes darting across my midsection. The hand she put to her face was caked with dirt and sand. “I don’t know what to do.”
    It would be comical, if it wasn’t so bad. I pulled in a breath, poked around until my finger found the exact spot of the pain. “I’ve had cracked ribs before. I’ll survive.” When I went to sit up, she tried to help. I shook my head and did it myself, moving at my own pace. Which was slow.
    Once in a seated position, I examined her. Her hair lay in clumps around her face; it was either still wet or so full of sand it couldn’t dry properly. No cuts or bruises on her face. Jacket intact. Legs also caked with mud and dirt, but she had great legs, and let’s face it, nothing could change that.
    She smiled. “You’re getting a little color back into your cheeks.”
    All over, I wanted to correct her, but didn’t. We both removed our life vests. “Are you hurt?”
    She raised her hands. “Guess not. That was horrifying.”
    I nodded, not wanting to burst her bubble, but I didn’t really think the nightmare was over yet. This island was too quiet.
    “Do you know where we are?” she asked. She knew I didn’t. Icould see it in her eyes, but she was searching for something, anything to give her a little hope.
    “No.”
    Her green eyes dropped. “Surely there are people here,” she barely whispered.
    “I hope so. Let’s look around.”
    Summer
    We both took our time standing. Bray had cracked ribs — so he said — but I had to wonder if they were completely broken, from the way he moved with one hand pressed against his ribcage and wincing with every breath. But each time I made eye contact, he painted on a smile or winked. He didn’t want me scared. But I was scared. We’d crashed, the boat had sunk beneath us or drifted off into the abyss somewhere, and now we were lost, standing on a deserted beach, staring into the foliage of an island he didn’t know.
    “Hey.” He captured my chin between his thumb and forefinger and raised my head to look at him. “It’s okay. We’re alive.”
    His blue eyes had lightened from the dark, intense shade they’d been last night, and his sandy colored hair lay in tiny spikes on his forehead. Like mine, the strands were full of real sand which made his hair look thicker.
    “We’re alive,” I echoed. It’s funny how we take life for granted when there’s no threat to it. Since last summer, there’d been plenty of times I’d wished I was dead, just to stop hurting, just to quiet the pain. But I realized it’s easy to think that way until death actually tries to take you. My mind, my flesh, and my spirit didn’t want to die, no matter what my heart said. I wanted to live. And apparently, my body was willing to fight, violently if necessary, to accomplishit. Blood worked its way through my chest, limbs, and head. Everything hurt, but I was breathing. For the first time in a long time, I thanked God I was alive, and if I was going to live through something like this, I was glad I wasn’t alone.
    “Do you think the other boat made it back to the mainland?” I asked Bray.
    He stared at the horizon for a few seconds.