Brothers of Paradise Series

I pause with my hand on the passenger door. “Your secret is safe with me.”All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

His eyes darken, and I don’t know what’s in there. If we’re still joking. What we’re even talking about. “Good to hear,” he says.

I climb into the car while Rhys chucks his equipment into the back. But when he turns the key to the ignition, the car doesn’t budge. Not even an inch.

He tries again. Restart. Restart. The engine of the four-wheeler roars, but we’re not moving more than a few millimeters. If anything, we’re digging ourselves in deeper.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, climbing out of the car. I follow suit and grimace at what I see. Both tires on my side are at least half-buried in the dune.

“Rhys,” I say softly. He doesn’t respond-he’s too busy walking around and inspecting the catastrophe. “I think we might need to be pulled out by another car.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “This car is supposed to handle this. It’s made for this.”

“Perhaps not for being parked on a dune,” I say gently.

Rhys swears again, but then he sighs. “You’re right. The weight has made it sink, and it’s dug in. Fuck.”

“Can we contact the lodge?”

“Yes.” He reaches for his sat phone, but he’s frowning. “Little chance of them making it out to us tonight, though. It’ll be pitch dark before they arrive.”

I swallow. Run my hands over my dress. Then I hitch up the hem and walk around to the trunk. “All right,” I say. “Call them and let them know. I’ll make us a bed back here.”

Rhys is completely quiet for a second. Another second. I open the trunk to the Jeep, each back door. We should be able to fold the back seats.

Rhys’s voice reaches me. “You’d really sleep out here?”

“Well, if you don’t think they can reach us in the darkness, what other option is there?”

He’s quiet again for a beat. “None. But I thought you’d sound a bit more displeased about it.”

I snort. “My father took my sister and me camping every summer. I’ve slept in far worse than this monster of a Jeep. We’ll be fine.”

But even so, there’s a thread of uneasy excitement running through me. It’ll just be the two of us in the middle of nowhere for the ten hours or so it’ll take until dawn. The sun is setting fast, and after that it’s just Rhys and me, a pair of flashlights and the wide-open Kenyan landscape.

What had my sister said before I left?

Make sure you have a grand adventure.

Well, Penny, watch me now, I think. You wouldn’t believe your eyes!

I fold the seats and listen to Rhys’s conversation. He’s testy, but accepts that he made a mistake in parking. I grin at that. Curmudgeon perhaps, but not above accepting his mistakes.

Whoever’s on the other line probably agrees with him, although Rhys sighs. “Yes, we can manage. Thank you. I’ll send our exact coordinates.”

I reach for the duffel bag I’d thrown into the Jeep this morning. It has one thick sweater and a few snacks, but nothing more than that. Perhaps it’ll do as a pillow.

Rhys snaps the phone shut and comes to inspect my handiwork. It’s getting difficult to make out his features in the near darkness.

“Cozy,” he comments.

“It’s not our white heaven bed, but it’ll do.”

He sighs, glancing down at the heavy watch at his wrist. “As much as I’d rather stay outside, bugs will make their way into the car if we keep the flashlights off.”

“And lions.”

He chuckles. “And lions.”

I shut the lights off, throwing the whole car into darkness. “Come inside. We can make do, right? I have… two apples, one for each of us, and a chocolate bar. And tons of water.”

“A feast.” But Rhys has a seat next to me on the back of the car, both of our feet in the sand. Mine, barefoot. His, in boots.

The landscape is quickly falling into darkness around us. “I’m sorry,” Rhys says. “I know you probably want to say ‘I told you so’ right about now.”

My lips tug, but I keep myself from smiling. “I would never.”

“You’re a better person than me,” he says, accepting the apple I hand him. “I would rub my own nose in it by now.”

I tug one leg up and tuck it beneath me. “You don’t give yourself a lot of credit.”

“No, I know myself,” he says. “So your father took you camping, huh?”

“Yes. He’s ex-Marine, very big on nature and survival.” I break the chocolate bar in half and hand one to Rhys. “Our vacations were the three of us in a car, heading to some faraway national park.”

We eat our bars in silence, listening to the sounds of nature. Of faraway crickets, of the beautiful and absolute serenity that only being alone in the wilderness can produce. I’ve missed it.

“Your mother?” Rhys asks.

“She left us, very early on.” It doesn’t hurt to say. Her face is one I know only from images in photo albums and scrapbooks, and my grandmother’s muttering about that woman. Apparently that woman decided children and a husband were too much for her to handle.

Rhys hums. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not,” I say, “so don’t be for me.” I jump out of the Jeep and look up at the sky above. With the sun setting, the stars are starting to appear. “I think we’re in for a treat tonight.”

Rhys stands next to me, his arm brushing mine. The solid presence of him is oddly reassuring. “I think so too. The night skies down here are beyond.”

“Did you bring a camera for that?”

He shakes his head. “You need special lenses. As this was an entirely accidental overnight trip, I didn’t bring them.”

“Guess you’ll have to take mental pictures.”

He groans. “That’s terrible, Ivy.”

“My terrible jokes are part of my charm,” I say.

“God help us all if that’s the case.” But he doesn’t sound like he means it, his voice a deep, soft hum.