Shipwrecked with Mr. Wrong - By Nikki Logan Page 0,63

inch of this place. And with no Nate, no Justin—no Rob—Honor couldn’t ignore any more how very little she had left.

You’ve got nothing inside you, have you?

He’d said it to strike back. To hurt. But he’d been exactly right. All she had was her work and... Nope, that was it. She had her work. Her eyes drifted shut. She didn’t even have that now. Hours of observation that used to whizz by now dragged like the ancient turtles that hauled their weight up the shore. The raucous chatter of ten thousand lagoon birds used to hypnotise her into a zen-like state but now it just grated on her re-ignited senses. The once comforting solace of silence had taken to screaming its isolation.

Rob had shaken her out of a four-year trance. And awake Honor felt very differently about a whole bunch of things here on the island, including how she felt in her own skin. And her own company. One advantage to being numb was that you didn’t feel the loneliness. The tranquil isolation that had protected her for so many years now...didn’t. Its work was done.

And so was hers.

Rob may have reawakened her but Parks Australia had provided her exit. In the buoyancy sack that left the island twelve days ago with the supply vessel lay a hand-written letter from her agreeing to enter discussions about possible relocation to a regional park management role.

Honor sighed, deep and overdue, and stared out across her lagoon. This was more than the end of an era. It was the beginning of one.

On cue, the white rumbly shape of The Journeyman appeared to the south. It lurched side to side like a cumbersome oceanic elephant in the high swell. Not a moment too soon, probably. Everything felt more like monsoon this week.

She stepped into the lagoon and started wading out with the first of four sacks. As soon as The Journeyman landed, she explained that she was pulling out early and Mark’s deckhand dived in and swam towards shore to help out with the larger number of bags, until at last Honor found herself hauling the last one up onto the reef, which stood under two feet of water thanks to the high swell. As soon as she passed it to Mark to be stowed on the boat, she turned and stared back at the piece of paradise she’d almost certainly never stand on again. Only ten or so people a year got permits for Pulu Keeling and she wasn’t likely to be one of them in the future. No matter how much Parks Australia valued her contribution. She’d had her chance at paradise.

Deep sorrow ached through her.

She turned back to The Journeyman and steeled herself for the inevitable difficult journey back to Cocos.

Ugh. Boats.

‘Here comes someone who’ll be sorry to have come all this way now that you’re heading back in...’ Mark’s cheerful chuckle drew her eyes around to the south.

The electric-blue of The Player matched the horizon exactly and made the cruiser almost impossible to see for a brief moment. Like one of the mirages she’d been having over the past month when she imagined the shape of a man out on the reef. Silhouetted at the entry to her camp. Crouched at the Emden memorial.

But this was no mirage. This was Rob.

Her gut coiled tighter than a snake preparing to strike. Mark was still speaking but she had no idea what about. Between the thrash of the ocean on the reef and the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears, she couldn’t hear a thing. The Player drew closer.

Why was he here? After everything she’d said. They’d said.

‘Looks like I’ll only be taking your gear this run...’ Mark said, close behind her.

The blue cruiser pulled up close to the side of The Journeyman and Rob turned his see-no-evil sunglasses in her direction.

‘Hop in,’ he shouted over the throbbing of his engine.

Honor didn’t move, although her heart flipped a full three-sixty in its cavity. God, he looked good. Panic filled her whole body but she managed to sound vaguely normal, conscious of Mark and his deckhand standing so close by.

‘Where are we going?’ she shouted across the noise of two engines and an ocean. And a pounding heartbeat.

He removed his sunglasses and blue eyes pierced hers. ‘Does it matter?’

It was all there, in that one sentence. Decision time.

Stay on the large, rumbling Journeyman and she could go back to Cocos, then Perth, then her new job in Broome. A fresh start with