My first thought is how good it feels waking up in Jordan's arms. His breath is soft, fluttery against my cheek. I'm so happy that for a second I am still, terrified that the slightest movement will steal this moment away from me.

It's still dark in here, as though we exist in a space where time no longer exists, but a quick glance at the phone on my nightstand reveals it's only three a.m. There are several messages from Dad, so I message him back to let him know we're okay and then turn back to Jordan, tracing his features with my gaze. There is a boyish innocence to him in this state, a vulnerability I'm not used to. It makes me want to litter him with kisses, but I don't dare risk disturbing him.

A part of me still can't believe this has happened. I've been trying so hard to protect future me from any heartache, and now here I am, lying in bed with Jordan, setting myself up for a world of pain if this doesn't pan out.

And it was worth it.

My heart pounds as I lean on his chest, listening to the sound of his own heartbeat as it gently thrums in my ear. I'm used to it pounding away from a storm, but this time it's soft, steady, as though he's completely at ease. Eyes closed, I try to make the most of it. In a week's time, Jordan will be back in Chicago and the feel of his arms wrapped around me will feel like a distant dream.

Slowly, he stirs. His arms pull me closer, so I lift my head and rest it in the groove of his neck. Eyes still closed, his mouth finds my forehead, warm, soft, and kisses me gently. For a moment, all I can do is replay last night, over and over in my head. The way he was gentle, attentive, passionate. I could have a million nights just like the one we had last night, and it still wouldn't be enough; I will always want more.

Reaching up, I cup his face, pulling his mouth toward mine. He's still tired, I can tell, but it doesn't stop him from pulling me on top of him. I place both hands on his chest and lean forward, lightly kissing his nose. My hair falls around him, acting like a curtain from the rest of the world as his mouth catches mine.

The rain is back, bringing with it a chill to the air. Goosebumps spread along my arms, and Jordan draws me closer to his chest, running his hands across my skin. With the lightest touch, he brushes his thumb across my collarbone, along cleavage, before cupping me in his hands. I breathe in sharply, his touch dizzying, and bury my face in his neck.

Everything about this feels bittersweet, each touch not only a declaration but a goodbye. There will be no kissing or touching when he's back in Chicago, there's only fear and uncertainty.

The way my body starts to retreat is involuntary. Jordan pulls me back again, flipping us so that he's now on top. His arms rest either side of my face, trapping me in place. 

Against my ear, in a low, even voice, he says, "You're not going anywhere." 

I smile a little. "What are you going to do, keep me prisoner?"

"If I have to." He kisses me gently. "I meant what I said before about making this work. I'm not going anywhere, either."

That's not true, I want to say. You're going back to Chicago, but I know what he means, and even though I wish I didn't, I believe him.

"I know," I say, looking up. I have never felt more vulnerable. "I trust you."

He leans in closer, pressing his forehead to mine. "I trust you, too," he whispers, and my body swells with heat. His hand trails my stomach, resting between my thighs, and just like that, everything else fades and the only thing I think about is him.

***

The next time I wake, it's to Jordan nuzzling my neck. I smile and turn toward him, hating the thought of leaving this bed and facing the rest of the world. But then Jordan's stomach growls, and I rouse myself into action, throwing on a t-shirt before tiptoeing downstairs to gather some food. He changes too and follows behind me, his steps slightly cautious as though the storm is about to surge through the shutters and carry us away. I open the back door and take a quick peek, but everything seems still, quiet – the lull before the next round.

"This always happens," I say. "It could start up again at any moment. We'll have to make do with what's in the cupboard."

He nods as I get to work, pulling out an assortment of cookies, tinned food, and snacks. The power still isn't working and won't be for a while, so anything in the fridge has expired. Amused, Jordan leans on the counter and takes in my choices. "Is this the extent of your cooking skills?"

"I'm a great cook, thank you very much. I'm just working with limited ingredients right now."

He laughs and moves behind me, reaching around me to steal a cookie. His other hand snakes my waist, so I lean against him, suddenly feeling fluttery. It's strange how sex can do that with some people. It's like it binds you somehow, draws you both closer, and all of a sudden you're hyper-aware of every touch; I can't stomach the thought of this ending.  

"Do you miss Chicago?" I ask. I'm glad that I'm facing the window and not him; it's easier that way. "I mean, can you ever see yourself living somewhere else?"

Like an island.

"I miss my mom," he says. "My friends, but places aren't as important to me. I could live in a forest so long as it's with the people I care about."

I nod, but it's hard for me to wrap my head around. Of course, living here without my family would be torture, but I have this strange sense of loyalty to this island, too, a feeling of safety and comfort. It's true what they say about home is where the heart is; a piece of my heart will always belong to this island.

"Interesting," I say, because at least there are options. At least he's not opposed to one day moving back here, even if it's many years from now.

At least there's hope.

"Okay, what about this," I say. "If like could be whatever you wanted right now, what would it look like? What's your dream?"

He's silent for so long that I think I've said something wrong. I'm about to change the topic when he says, "You want the truth?"

I nod. "Always."

"I think I'd stay on this island."

A little jolt runs through me. "Really?"

He smiles. "I'd somehow pay off all our debt, get my mom here, find us a place to live, and then I'd help her run the cafe. I think being on an island like this would be good for her, you know? And she's always dreamed of running her own business." His smile falls. "Guess that's why they call it a dream, right?"

My heart pangs a little. I can tell I've soured his mood a little, so I try and change the subject. "So, tell me something bad about you."

He's finished his cookie, so he snakes his other hand around my body and lowers his mouth to my neck. "Bad?"

"Yeah," I say. "In case you haven't noticed, you're annoyingly perfect."

He has the audacity to laugh. "I've been called many things before. Perfect is not one of them."

"Oh, come on. You're honest, you dropped everything and came all the way here to help your mom out, you run into storms to save little dogs." I turn in his arms until I'm meeting his gaze. "Heroes are overrated, remember?"

He shakes his head, still smiling, but there's a darkness in his eyes that wasn't there before. His smile fades, and for a second he doesn't say anything as his fingers brush my thighs. "I'm not a hero. In fact, up until now, I've pretty much been the bad kid."

"You were?"

He nods, refusing to look at me. "I got in a lot of trouble at school. Went around acting like the world owed me something. Every time I'd see a dad and his son walk by, I'd get so pissed thinking about my own dad." He shakes his head. "It's like the vows they took were bullshit. Through sickness and health? He left the moment Mom got sick."

My eyes soften. I reach out and brush the side of his face. "I'm sorry, Jordan."

"It is what it is. My mom, though–" his own eyes soften, the darkness in them fading, "–she never stopped fighting. You could give her the worst news in the world, and she'd still have a positive outlook."

My heart does this funny little flip. It's nice to see this side of Jordan. The more I hear about his family, his life back home, the closer I feel to him. "Your mom sounds badass."

He smiles into my neck. "She is. She's a lot like you."

"Comparing your girlfriend to your mom isn't the compliment you think it is." The G word pops out before I know what I'm saying. I stiffen in his arms, half expecting him to run for the hills, but the corner of his mouth lifts.

"My girlfriend?"

"No. I didn't–"

"Too late," he says. "You've already committed. We better start planning how we're going to break the news to your dad. He still thinks I'm the devil."

I laugh, it's impossible not to with him. "I'll tell him you kidnapped me. Forced me against my will."

"It's half true." He lowers his hands now, grabbing my thighs before lifting me onto the counter. My legs wrap around him at the same time his mouth finds my neck.

I'm still mid-laugh when his hand gently dips into my underwear. He continues to kiss me, and this time I don't have a single doubt as I tilt my head back. The truth is, even in the middle of a hurricane, with my future more uncertain than ever, I have never been happier.

A/N

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