JAY JAY POV
After our swim, I headed inside to change while Keifer was busy outside playing "Master of the Grill" (which mostly involved him staring intensely at coals and poking them with a stick).
I looked through the suitcase
I found a matching set that was... well, let's just say it didn't leave much to the imagination. It was a sheer, oversized white linen button-down, but underneath, I kept on a tiny, strappy black silk set. The shirt was thin enough to show the silhouette of everything, and I left the top three buttons undone so it kept sliding off one shoulder.
It was comfortable. It was breezy. And honestly? After everything I'd been through, feeling pretty and a little bit dangerous felt good.
"This is going to make him lose his mind," I whispered to my reflection, smirking a little.
If I was going to be stuck on a deserted island with Keifer I might as well have a little fun with his "gentlemanly" resolve. He'd been acting so careful with me, like I was a fragile piece of glass that would break if he breathed too hard. I wanted to remind him that I wasn't just a patient
I walked out onto the deck, making sure to let the silk hem of my shorts flutter in the breeze. Keifer was standing by the grill, his back to me. Even from behind, he looked annoyingly good—his skin glistening with a bit of sweat, his muscles tensing as he flipped whatever he was cooking.
"Is dinner ready yet, or should I go find a coconut?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe and doing my best 'casual' pose.
Keifer started to turn around, a smirk already on his face. "Patience, Jay-jay, perfection takes—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
The tongs in his hand stayed frozen in mid-air. His eyes traveled from my messy, salt-dried hair, down to the sliver of my shoulder peeking out of the linen shirt, and then further down... and then back up. He actually choked on his own breath.
I suppressed a giggle. Target locked.
"What's the matter, Watson?" I teased, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward him with a slow, deliberate stride. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Or did you finally realize you have no idea how to cook?"
Keifer swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. His gaze was dark, intense, and definitely not "gentlemanly" anymore. He looked like a man who was struggling to remember every single he learned in school
"Jay..." he rasped, his voice an octave deeper than usual. "What... what exactly are you wearing?"
"Clothes," I said innocently, stopping right in front of him. I reached up and playfully adjusted the collar of his shirt, making sure my hand brushed against his chest. "Why? Is it too much? I thought you said there was no one here to judge us."
Keifer groaned, dropping the tongs onto the side table. He didn't move away. Instead, he placed his hands on the counter behind me, effectively trapping me between his arms and the grill. The heat from the coals was nothing compared to the heat radiating off him.
"You're doing this on purpose," he accused, his eyes searching mine. "You're trying to kill me."
I tilted my head, smiling up at him. "Am I?"
"Yes," he growled, leaning down until his lips were just inches from my ear. "And it's working. If you don't go back inside and put on an oversized hoodie—preferably one of mine that covers you from neck to toe—I'm going to forget all about being on my best behavior."
I laughed, feeling that familiar spark of adrenaline. This was Keifer. This was us. No trauma, no past—just the two of us playing a game we both knew I was going to win.
"Then I guess it's a good thing I didn't pack a hoodie," I whispered, my eyes locked onto his, challenging him.
Keifer's jaw tightened. I could see the internal battle happening behind his eyes. He wanted to pull me closer, but he was also terrified of being too much too soon. He took a shaky breath, his gaze dropping to my lips before he abruptly turned back to the grill.
"The chicken is gonna burn," he said, his voice a little strained as he focused on the meat. He poked at a piece of chicken with a level of concentration that was honestly hilarious.
I couldn't help it; I burst out laughing. "The great Keifer Watson, defeated by a chicken thigh? Wow. The boys back in Section E would never let you live this down."
I leaned over his shoulder, my chest brushing against his arm just to see him flinch. "Need help, Chef? Or are you too distracted?"
"Jay-jay, I'm warning you," he grumbled, though his ears were turning a suspicious shade of red. "If you don't stay at least three feet away, we're having burnt charcoal for dinner because I can't think straight."
I stepped back, but only an inch. I hopped up onto the wooden counter next to the grill, swinging my legs. The linen shirt flared open a bit more, and I saw Keifer's eyes dart toward me for a split second before he forced himself to look back at the flames.
"Fine, fine. I'll behave," I said, though my tone said the exact opposite. "So, what's our plan for tomorrow? Are we going to attempt more fishing? Or maybe you'll try to climb a coconut tree and fall on your head?"
Keifer finally managed to plate the chicken, looking like he'd just survived a high-stakes shootout rather than a backyard BBQ. He set the plate down and turned to me, his hands resting on my knees as I sat on the counter. His expression softened, the "distracted" look being replaced by something deeper.
"Tomorrow?" he asked softly. "Tomorrow, we do whatever you want. If you want to swim, we swim. If you want to just sit here and watch the waves, we do that. I'm serious, Jay. This isn't just about me hiding you away. It's about you finding yourself again."
He leaned in, his face inches from mine, but he didn't kiss me. He just tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
"But for tonight," he smirked, his playful arrogance returning, "the plan is for you to eat this chicken—which is perfectly cooked, by the way—and stop trying to tempt your future husband before he actually loses it."
"We'll see about that," I teased, hopping down from the counter.
As I walked toward the table, I made sure to give him a little wink over my shoulder. I could almost hear his resolve crumbling. The island was definitely doing its job—I felt alive, I felt safe, and most importantly, I felt like the girl who could keep Keifer Watson on his toes forever.
The dinner was actually... edible. Despite his distraction, Keifer managed not to turn the chicken into charcoal. We sat at the small wooden table on the veranda, the only light coming from a few lanterns and the moon reflecting off the ocean.
"Not bad, Watson," I said, taking a bite. "Maybe you have a future in the kitchen if the whole 'rich, CEO leader' thing doesn't work out."
Keifer smirked, leaning back in his chair while watching me eat. "I have a lot of talents you haven't seen yet, Jay-jay. But don't get used to it. Once we're back, I'm hiring a five-star chef so you never have to see me in an apron again."
"I don't know," I teased, glancing at the way his shirt clung to his shoulders. "The 'distressed chef' look suits you."
We talked for a while. We talked about stupid things, like how many of the Section E boys would accidentally set the mansion on fire while we were gone.
But as the night grew deeper and the sound of the waves got louder, the atmosphere shifted. The playful banter trailed off, replaced by a comfortable, heavy silence. I could feel his gaze on me, steady and protective.
"You're tired," he noted, his voice dropping to that low rumble that always made my stomach flip.
"A little," I admitted.
He stood up and held out his hand. "Come on. Let's get you to bed."
I took his hand, expecting him to lead me to the bedroom and leave me at the door like he had the night before. But when we reached the room, he didn't turn away. He watched as I climbed under the cool sheets, the linen shirt I was wearing rustling.
I looked at the empty space beside me, then up at him. He was standing there, looking like he wanted to stay but was afraid he'd be crossing a line.
"Keifer?"
"Yeah?"
"Stay," I whispered. I saw the flash of surprise in his eyes.
Keifer didn't need to be told twice. He kicked off his shoes and climbed in beside me, staying on top of the covers at first. I didn't let him stay there. I crawled over and rested my head on his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist.
He froze for a second, his heart hammering against my ear like a drum. Then, slowly, he relaxed. He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me flush against his side, his chin resting on top of my head.
"I'm right here, Jay," he murmured into my hair. "I'm not going anywhere. If a ghost shows up, I'll kick its ass."
I giggled softly, closing my eyes. The scent of him—sea salt, woodsmoke, and Keifer—surrounded me, acting like a shield.
"You're so arrogant," I mumbled, already drifting off.
"I'm a Watson," he reminded me, his grip tightening just a little, as if to make sure I was really there. "We don't do 'modest.' Sleep, Mutya. I've got the first watch."
For the first time in a long time, I didn't dream of shadows or basements. I dreamt of white sand and a man who was willing to let the world burn just to keep me warm.
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KEIFER POV (In the middle of the night)
I didn't sleep. I couldn't.
Not because I was tired, but because having Jay-jay tucked into my side like this felt too precious to waste on being unconscious. Her breathing was steady, her small hand clenching my shirt even in her sleep.
I looked down at her. In the moonlight, she looked like an angel, but I knew she was a fighter. Every time she stirred, I held my breath, ready to wake her up if the nightmares came. But they didn't. She just sighed and snuggled closer, her leg hooking over mine.
My blood was still humming from earlier—the bikini, the sheer shirt, the way she'd teased me—but seeing her this peaceful made all that desire turn into something else. Something fiercer. Something that made me want to build a wall around this island and never let her leave.
I reached out and traced the line of her jaw with my thumb, ever so slightly.
"You're going to be the death of me, Jay-jay," I whispered to the empty room. "But what a way to go."
I looked at her finger—the one with the small bandage. Safe Grounding. The doctor said I was her safety. I vowed right then, watching the moon dip lower in the sky, that I would never let her down again. I'd be her signal in the dark until she didn't need one anymore.
And then, I'd be the husband she deserved.
I finally felt my own eyes getting heavy. I let out a long breath, kissed the top of her head, and for the first time in years, I let my guard down just enough to fall asleep.
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