“They found the footage! My God, they found it!”
My heart hammers in my chest when she finishes the call, then hangs up. “One of the guys on staff for the Times. He investigated and pieced together information with the investigator I hired? And they found it. And more? Cy…” her voice trails off.
“What is it, baby?” I ask her.
“Look,” she says, waving a paper at me. I turn to her and take the paper, reading quickly.
“Holy shit,” I whisper. “That’s… Christ, baby.”
One of the biggest publishers in the country has offered her an enormous book deal, including a ridiculously huge advance. Between her writing income and my military retirement, as well as a good nest egg I’d put away and invested before I was kidnapped, we’re already doing pretty damn well.
“They want to do a movie and book deal, actually using some of the footage from the island, but we’re going to own all rights. In fact, they’ve already secured the files, pulled them, and sent them to me.”
“A movie and a book deal?” Wow. Christ. “You gonna do it?”
“It isn’t up to just me,” she says pointedly. “Are you okay with the idea yourself?”
“I think it’s a fantastic idea,” I tell her. I want to shed light on all of it. The more we do, the less it hurts.
“We’ll do it together. I’ll do the tedious writing part; you help me remember the island. Deal?”
“Deal,” I say, grinning. I’m all over that.
“You know,” I say to her, a few days after she accepts the book offer. “I want to talk a little bit about our future.”
We’re sitting on the porch swing, looking out over the field while the sun sets.
“Yeah,” she says. “I agree.”
It’s been a month since we got back. We haven’t tried to have a baby, but we haven’t tried not to, and nothing’s happened. We’re both okay with that. We expected that it would take some time getting used to living with each other, but the funny thing is, it doesn’t. We’re already used to living with each other. It’s getting used to living in a house again that takes a little time and interacting with other people takes the most time of all.
“I don’t want my time on that island to be useless,” I tell her. “I mean, it wasn’t, obviously. I’ve got you, and we have each other now.”
“No,” she says. “I know what you mean. I really do. I’ve been thinking the same. It’s partly why I’m looking forward to really digging into the book.”
I nod. I’m glad she gets me. It’s one of the things I love most about her, about us. We just understand each other.
“What can I do with what I learned on the island, though?” I won’t go back to military life. I’ve retired now, and the biggest issue is that don’t want anything transient, and I can’t deal with being away from Harper, no matter how short a time it is.
“You know,” she says thoughtfully. “I could totally see you being one of those survival TV guys.”
I snort. “Yeah. I mean, I was a survival TV guy. Not sure that’s something I’d really want to do, though.” But when I think about, I’m not so sure I don’t want to be.
“I bet you could snatch up a deal so damn quick,” she says. “I mean, look at you. You’re a damn model for crying out loud.”
I shake my head. “Maybe. But no, I think I want to do something else with it, I just don’t know what yet.”
It isn’t until three weeks later, when we get a flier in the mail for a camp for underprivileged kids, that I get the idea.
“Harper,” I say to her, barging into her office while she’s typing away. She sighs, turning away from her laptop.
“Working, Cy,” she says. “You are so lucky I love you.”
I grin at her. “Oh? Or what would you do?” I say, advancing on her slowly, shooting her a predatory look. “You threatening me, woman?”
“Maybe I am. But before you fuck me twelve ways til Sunday, why don’t you tell me your idea?”
I reach her and tug the little messy bun she’s got perched on top of her head.
“You know how they have camps for kids? I’ve wanted to work with kids in troubled homes and shit like that for a while. You know, because I was that kid. And getting into fighting and then the military helped me overcome so much of that shit.”
She nods eagerly. “Yes. I like where you’re going with this. Go on.”
“What if I ran a survival camp? Really helped these kids learn the skills?”
“I love it,” she says. “I bet you would, too.”
And so, I throw myself into establishing Skills for Survival. Between Harper’s connections and mine, we easily get funding and our first camp is planned for the summer. We work hard, both of us, but we work well together. She helps me plan the strategies for the camp, and she reads chapters of her book to me aloud. We reminisce together.