I groan, the sound guttural and dry. My mouth is parched, the tiny pebbles rolling under my fingertips doing nothing to distract from the raw thirst clawing at my insides.

The pebbles roll under my fingertips as I clench my fist, lifting myself into a push up position. My arms shake beneath me, muscles straining to keep me upright. Every muscle protests, the ache familiar yet more intense, like the aftermath of a brutal workout followed by a firefight with the club and then a full-force collision on the ice with some dickhead holding a stick and a grudge. I knew that pain all too well—earned it, lived through it. But this? This feels worse.

What the hell happened?

The sun bares down on me, the harsh rays blanketing me in its hot caress and I squint up at the sky, blinking at the clear blue view. My head shifts to the side, neck stiff and stare at the rolling waves beside me, lapping at the shore gently. It's then it all comes rushing back, the storm, the waves, the boat. Arden.

I push myself up, head whipping from side to side as I search the shore for the insufferable, stubborn woman.

"Arden!" I yell, stumbling to a stand and beginning to run the length of the beach, staring out into the rolling waves. "Arden! Where are you?!" My heart pounds in my chest, fear gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. If she's hurt—or worse...

If she's fucking dead I'm going to fucking kill her and then Matt will kill me.

I spin, eyes frantically eating up the distance down the other side of the beach, "God fucking damnit Arden!" I spin around, scanning the beach, until finally, a figure comes into focus up the shore, barely more than a silhouette in the heat waves. As I get closer, I see her—black hair tangled, face ashen, body twisted in a way that makes my stomach drop.

"Arden!" I yell, skidding to a stop beside her. I roll her towards me, brushing her hair out of her face with hands that are trembling. The relief that floods me when I feel the warmth of her skin and find her pulse steady is almost enough to bring me to my knees.

"Arden, wake up." I whisper, swallowing roughly, thumb stroking the soft skin of her cheek. "Please, baby, wake up."

Her eyes flutter open—those dark eyes that have haunted my dreams—and she groans, trying to roll away from me. Instinctively, I catch her, keeping her in my lap, not ready to let her go.

"What's happening?" she whispers, her voice barely audible as she squints up at me. "Where are we?" I follow her gaze to the ocean and then to the dense trees behind us.

"I don't know," I admit softly, staring back down at her. "But we need to move, or we're going to get sick from dehydration." The sun is only getting hotter, and I can already feel the truth of my words in the pounding in my skull and the dryness in my throat.

I help her sit up, slipping my hands under her to steady her. She winces as she stands, and I see her staring down at her ankle, frowning. "I've twisted it," she mutters.

"Let's get into the shade first," I say, guiding her toward the trees. "Then we'll take a look."

I ease her down against a tree, its broad leaves offering some shelter from the sun. Kneeling at her feet, I carefully remove her soaked shoes and socks, inspecting her ankle. It's swollen, and I can tell it's going to bruise badly.

I pull her shirt back and focus on her ankle once more, "You won't be running away on that anytime soon."

She gives me a glare and I refrain from smiling.

"Since when do you know first aid?" She whispers but she doesn't move to stop me.

I meet her gaze, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Arden. Maybe if you'd actually spoken to me in the last ten years-"

She pulls her leg away from me, wincing as she does. "Really, Jason?," she says, her voice a huff.

I roll my eyes, internally scolding the woman for being so damn fucking stubborn. I look at her now, covered in sand, hair a tangled mess, and I can't help but think how incredibly beautiful she is, even like this. Especially like this.

She's mine. She just hasn't let herself believe it yet.

Out of all the women I could've fallen for, it had to be her. The one who doesn't want me. The one who makes me work for every inch of ground. But I've never backed down from a challenge, and I'm not about to start now.

She's been off-limits to me for so long—my best friend's little sister. The girl who was always there but never within reach. I spent years trying to push down the feelings I had for her, but when I went off to University and didn't see her for years, it didn't make those feelings go away. And then, at Matt's wedding—Christ, when she walked into the room, all woman, all grown up—I damn near lost it. She'd transformed, and for the first time, I had to admit to myself that she was no longer the girl I used to tease. She was a woman, and suddenly, she was everything I never allowed myself to want.

But even then, I pushed it away, tried to convince myself she was just off-limits. I didn't need that complication. But here we are.

All it took was a few drinks and a garter, creamy thighs and- she sends me a glare.

Definitely know how to pick em'.

"I'm a licensed firefighter," I say, keeping my tone light despite the tension between us. "You pick up a few things after watching the EMTs."

"What about hockey?" she asks, her voice softer now.

I shrug, trying to play it off. "Keeps me busy in the off-season."

The truth is, I'm not sure how much longer I'll be playing. Most guys in the league don't last more than five years, and I've been at it for nine. I'm thirty-one, and the thought of retiring has been creeping into my mind more and more lately. My body's been through hell, and I'm starting to feel the wear and tear. But admitting that out loud? It feels too much like giving up.

Even if I do feel the pull to retire, to leave this life behind and do something else, something worthy of being praised by the masses.

I want more out of myself.

She doesn't reply for a few moments before softly speaking. "You know I'm a nurse right, I'm sure I can manage to help myself."

The woman, who wouldn't even accept help from me to the point where she puts herself in pain just to keep her stubborn streak going, can help herself? Colour me shocked.

I shake my head, my grip on her ankle gentle but firm. "Even nurses need help sometimes, Arden. Whether you like it or not, I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere." Her breath catches when I run my fingers lightly over her foot, and I can't help the grin that tugs at my lips. "See? Even the strong need a little TLC."

She rolls her eyes but doesn't pull away this time. I finish checking her ankle and set it down carefully.

"You rest for a bit," I say quietly, "and I'm going to go see what's around and if there is anyone on this island."

Her head snaps up, "We are not separating, I've seen the horror movies. I will not be the girl that gets murdered because we thought it'd be a good idea to separate."

I grin. "Well then what's your plan, Oh bossy one?"

She narrows her gaze and it's the cutest thing because her nose scrunches up at the top, creasing below her eyes and causing her eyebrows to dip in, which causes her to look like an angry kitten.

I keep that to myself though, remembering what happened last time I said it. Instead, I raise a brow at her silently.

She huffs, "I don't know. I, for one, have never been stranded on an island before." She says sarcastically, her words clipped but holding just the tiniest bit of fear. She hides it quickly, but I still catch it.

A laugh exits my lips, "Oh look at that, something we have in common."

She moves to push herself from the ground and I stop her with a look, which she promptly ignores and pushes herself up anyway with a slight grimace. Her hand goes to her hip, and I see her press at the skin as if it was tender. I reach forward lifting her top slightly and cringe at the dark bruise floating beneath her flesh, almost the size of my palm.

I drop her shirt and reach forward to help her.

Using the tree for support, she waves me off when I wrap my hand around her waist, which I promptly ignore. Pulling her into my body, I support her and look down at her with a raised brow.

"You're a stubborn little thing, aren't you?"

"Call me little thing one more time and I will find your little thing and rip it off." She snarls, like a tigress, and I hold in my laugh again.

I use my spare hand to cover the jewels, grinning down at her. "You win this round, kitten."

Her sharp eyes cut to me, flaming with annoyance but I only wink back.

She doesn't say anything, beginning to walk off, causing me to walk with her so she doesn't hurt herself more.

"We should find water first." She mutters after a moment of silence, "The last thing we drank was alcohol and probably salt water, with the heat it won't take long for dehydration to kick in." She hobbles along, failing to hide her wince as her wild eyes scan our surrounding for any sign of life or water.

She's right —we need to find water, and fast.

As we walk, the reality of our situation starts to sink in. We're stranded, and I have no idea how we're going to get out of this. But one thing's for sure—I'm not letting anything happen to her. Not while I'm still breathing.

I refrain from telling her I already feel the headache building and my muscles exhausting quickly. Who knows how long we've been out here? I don't even remember what time it was when I reached the boat.

"Lead the way." I murmur instead, waving a hand in front of me with a grin, trying to keep the mood light, "And let's get out of the sun before we quicken the process."

She rolls her eyes again, and I smile. At least I can get something out of her. Better than nothing.

She's the most frustrating woman I've ever met, but damn if she isn't also the most incredible. And I'm going to do whatever it takes to keep her safe, even if she never admits she needs me.

Even if I never get the chance to really call her mine.