We've been walking for at least an hour, and the harsh reality of our situation is beginning to settle in. No signs of life, no boats on the horizon—just endless deep blue ocean and dense jungle.

"We are officially stranded," I mutter, feeling the weight of those words sink into my chest.

"We are not stranded." Jason states when I point out the obvious, "We're just beached."

I turn to look at him, incredulity laced with irritation. The slight tilt of his lips only adds to my frustration. "You're impossible to deal with," I sigh, rubbing my temple as it starts to throb. "This is serious."

His bright eyes sparkle with that familiar, annoying twinkle. "What'd I do?"

I huff, staring at the man who followed me onto a party boat and then followed me when I went overboard. I'm not sure which one of us is more stupid, him and me. I rub my temple, feeling an ache beginning to form, whether from his annoying company or the sun I'm not entirely sure.

Jason grins when I don't reply, tilting his head at me, finding amusement in my suffering.

I turn away from his infuriating face and continue walking.

He chuckles, the sound following me. "I'm just messing with you, kitten."

"Don't call me that." I hiss and walk – or hobble, faster. "Maybe we should separate, see if we can find civilis-"

"Arden," he interrupts, stepping closer, his voice firm. "You said it yourself; we are not separating. If something happens to you, Matt will kill me. End of discussion."

The mention of my brother sends a jolt through me. Jason has always been fiercely protective of me—of our whole family, really—because of his friendship with my brother, but it feels different now. There's an edge to his protectiveness, one that makes my pulse race for reasons I don't want to examine too closely.

The movies make this look easy, it's not.

I mutter a curse when another gigantic leaf falls forward, smacking me in the face. I ignore the short chuckle from behind me as I take hold of the leaf once more, wrestling it into position before using a flexible vine to tie it to the other three I'd already struggled into position.

"You almost done there?" Jason says, not even bothering to hide his amusement.

I huff, turning to stare at him with narrowed eyes, "I don't know, maybe if I had some help, it would be a quicker process." I mutter sarcastically, counting to ten in my head, slowly.

He turns to look behind him, as if a crowd of willing participants may appear before turning to look back at me, "Who, me?"

I shut my eyes, groaning and make the mistake of letting go of the leaf, causing all four to tumble down around me. "I hate you." I whisper, staring at the leaves. Maybe they're a metaphor for how my life is going right now, falling apart.

"Love you too, kitten."

My heart thumps in my chest and I scowl. "Stop calling me that." I mutter but he only grins wider as I lean down and scoop up the leaves once more.

"Why, kittens have sharp claws, and my back still has the memory of yours imprinted on it." His voice is full of that male ego I'd always hated and read way too much about. I had made the colossal mistake one night after a few too many wines to look up what exactly Jason Wilde got up to in the months following the wedding. That was a mistake. Multiple articles detailing the 'sexcapades' of the hockey player.

Guess some things never change.

It was the reminder I needed to shut the computer off, drink the rest of the bottle and get laid the next night. Jason wasn't my type—too sporty, too famous, too flirty so why the hell was I always thinking about him? He was my brother's friend. We would never work out.

I wanted no complications, and everything about Wilde was complicated. Him, his career, our past. God, sleeping with him had been a mistake, one I was still paying for even twelve years later.

I huff and turn away, focusing on the leaves again, trying to ignore the way his words make my skin shiver.

He doesn't take the hint, stalking closer, "Do you still have the garter?"

I swallow, turning to face him. "Can you please help me build at least a resemblance of shelter?" My hands tighten on the leaves, feeling the fragility of them crunch under my fingers.

He stands, sauntering closer. "Answer the question."

I spin to him, glaring. "I threw it out, along with the bouquet."

He grins, coming to a slow stop in front of me, "You're lying."

"Why would I lie?"

His eyes twinkle, and he runs his eyes slowly up my figure, stopping at my collarbone. "Because why would you throw out the only memories of the best night of your life?"

I scoff a laugh, "Your ego knows no bounds."

He grins, staring straight into my eyes. The innocent act somehow causes fire to ignite low in my belly. "Maybe," he admits, "But I'm not wrong, am I?"

I don't answer, turning away from him, my heart pounding in my chest. Why does he have this effect on me? Why can't I just push him away like I've done with everyone else?

He laughs lowly as if he knows what his attention does to my body. "I only have the memory of your body against mine and the scars from your nails on my back. If I had a more physical remnant, I'd frame it."

"Always the professional charmer."

"I prefer the saying 'a man who knows what he wants'."

"And what, you want another notch on your bedpost?" I tilt my head to him, trying to sound indifferent, but the sharp pain in my hand as I grip the leaves too tightly betrays me.

His eyes darken, but not with lust. "If that's all I wanted, kitten. Your name would already be engraved at the very top." He leans closer, looking down at me with those wild eyes. Alluding to the very night I've tried to forget.

My mouth drops and I turn away from him, letting the leaves I'd been holding smack him in the face before stalking off - or more like hobbling and the display of my anger doesn't have the same effect.

"Arden!" He yells after me.

"What?" I yell back, turning to glare at him over my shoulder, black hair flying.

"You know I didn't mean it like that." He drops the leaves, rushing after me.

"Well, then how did you mean it?" I huff, climbing over a fallen log even as my ankle twinges with pain, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. But he doesn't let up, following me deeper into the island's dense forest.

"Can you stop walking and have an adult conversation with me about this?" he demands, his voice firm.

I stop, grinding my teeth together. "What do you want from me?" I throw my hands up as he comes to a stop in front of me, his gaze steady and unyielding.

"I want you to stop running away," he says, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

"I'm not running away," I argue, but the words feel hollow even as they leave my lips.

His eyes travel down my body, taking in the rise and fall of my chest, before settling on my feet. "Looked like running away to me," he says quietly.

"Because you're impossible to deal with," I retort, but the fight in my voice is dwindling.

He throws his head back, laughing, but there's no joy in it—just frustration. "Oh, so you can deal with baby-faced Collin and his tonsil hockey with another girl," he lifts a finger, "while on a date with you, by the way," he adds with a pointed look. I roll my eyes, trying to dismiss the memory. "But you can't talk to me for five seconds without turning tail and running?"

"Collin was cute to look at," I say, grasping for anything to deflect the conversation away from us.

He laughs again, but it's colder this time, the sound sending a chill down my spine. "He may be cute to look at, but I had you screaming my name for hours on end."

"Stop bringing up that night!" I shout, my voice breaking.

"Why? I know you enjoyed yourself," he counters, his voice softer now, almost tender. "If this is about Matt-"

"It's not about my brother!" I snap quietly, regretting the words as soon as I say them.

"Then why? If it's not about me being friends with your brother, why are you so against us?"

"There is no us!" I hiss. "And I don't need a reason," I huff, turning away from him again, but this time, there's no strength left in my steps.

He sighs, and it's a sound full of resignation. "Fine. Tell me why you're running now, then."

"Because we're stranded on an island, with no way to contact anyone we know. We haven't seen another human being since we woke up, and with every passing second, dehydration and malnutrition are creeping up on us." My shoulders slump as the reality of our situation weighs down on me. "Nighttime will fall soon, and we still haven't got anywhere safe to sleep. We have no idea what's out here."

His hand falls in front of my vision, palm up. "Well let's work on shelter and then we'll go find fresh water, food can come tomorrow."

I look at his outstretched hand, hesitating. There's a part of me that wants to take it, to let him guide me through this, but another part—the part that's been hurt every time she lets her heart lead—is screaming at me to keep my distance. To not let him in.

"It's not that easy," I whisper, more to myself than to him.

"So, you're not even going to try?" he asks, his eyes steady on mine. For a moment, I think he's not talking about survival.

I force myself to look away, pointing ahead. "Fine," I mutter. "But you're the one doing most of the work."

"Fair trade," he says, his grin widening. "You're the nurse. I'm the muscle."

I roll my eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't fall out of my head. "Sure, Wilde. Let's see what you've got."

Building a shelter turns out to be more difficult than either of us anticipated. Jason insists on hauling what looks like half a tree for the main structure, while I continue to struggle to weave palm fronds into something vaguely resembling a roof.

"You could just admit I'm useful," he says, dropping the log into place with a grunt.

"You're as useful as a splinter," I retort, adjusting the fronds. "Annoying and hard to get rid of."

He chuckles, brushing sweat off his brow. "You really know how to boost a guy's ego, Kitten.

"Happy to help."

We fall into a rhythm after that, the occasional snarky comment breaking the silence. By the time the sun dips toward the horizon, the shelter is... well, it's standing, at least.