Lost
LOST
K. LUCAS
Copyright © 2022 by K. Lucas
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. All the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
EBook ISBN: 978-1-958445-04-4
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-958445-05-1
Hardback ISBN: 978-1-958445-06-8
Cover Design by Pretty In Ink Creations
Editing and Proofreading by My Brother’s Editor
CONTENTS
I. Erin
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
II. Marcella
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
III. Andrew
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
IV. Graham
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
V. Wade
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
VI. Erin
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
VII. Caleb
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
VIII. Erin
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
IX. Matt
Chapter 54
Thank you!
Acknowledgments
Also by K. Lucas
About the Author
Connect with K. Lucas
In loving memory of my dearest dog, Boo.
2007—2022
I’ll always miss petting your soft fur,
playing with your floppy velvet ears,
feeling your gentle lick against my toes,
cuddling with you for hours while your warm breath puffs against me,
watching you playfully chase the birds across the yard,
and so many other beautiful things.
May you rest in peace on the other side of the rainbow bridge until we meet again.
I love you, girl.
PART 1
ERIN
CHAPTER ONE
This is probably the dumbest idea I’ve had yet. My stomach roils as the ship rocks back and forth, more violent with each new wave that crashes against it. I double over, barely making it to the toilet before I cast up the bile from my empty stomach. A moan escapes through my lips as I sit panting on the floor, squeezed inside the tiny bathroom.
“May I have your attention, please?” An announcement comes on through the speakers. “We’re going to continue experiencing rough seas as we go around the storm. If you’re experiencing sea sickness, you may wish to remain in your cabin, or if you have an interior stateroom, you may wish to go out on deck to get some fresh air. The starboard and port side decks are presently closed, so if you do decide to go outside, please stick to the pool deck. Thank you for your patience as we weather this together.”
Another groan slips from my throat at the announcement. I have the worst possible cabin on this entire ship. Inside cabin—upper level—back of ship. Why did I let Marcella talk me into this?
Just as I have the thought, my phone vibrates on the bed. I crawl across the floor, afraid that if I stand, I’ll hurl again. I reach one arm up over the ledge of the bed to grasp my phone. The screen shows a message.
Come up to the pool.
My eyes drift from the screen to the closed laptop halfway tucked under my pillows. She can’t possibly be writing during this. I take a few steadying breaths to calm my stomach, then text Marcella back.
I’m too sick.
An instant reply.
It’s better up here. Trust me!
I look around my small, windowless cabin. My stomach does another somersault. I’m not sure if I’ve ever felt this sick in my life. The announcement said to get fresh air. Marcella said it was better up top too, and although it’s only a few levels above my current location, I can’t help but think anything is better than here. May as well give it a shot.
Phone in my pocket, barf bag in hand, I slip carefully into the hallway and make my way to the staircase.
Outside, the wind is howling. The sound of the waves slamming against our ship is almost too overwhelming to bear. Water laps over the sides, making me want to turn right back around. If it wasn’t for the fresh air instantly soothing my stomach, I would give in to the urge to go back inside.
As it is, I feel somewhat less green—enough to make me cross the deck to where Marcella sits on a lounge chair next to the others. She looks up from her novel as I approach. “Is it that bad?” She grimaces at the bag in my hand.
“Worse. How can you read with all this damned swaying?”
She shrugs. “Born with sea legs, I guess.”
I frown, looking at Graham, Tom and Wade, all sitting back in lounge chairs next to her. All writing away on their laptops. “I’m so jealous of you guys right now,” I say, moving to take an empty seat nearby.
“Didn’t spend all that money on a writers’ retreat to not write,” Graham says without looking up.
Wade and Tom only smile and keep typing.
I scoff but otherwise say nothing. Some writers’ retreat. I keep my gaze out at the furious ocean, trying not to look at Marcella. She’s the only reason I’m sitting here right now, but I don’t want to blame her. She didn’t know it was going to be like this—she was only trying to help.
“Next time, we know better than to go on a cruise in September,” Marcella says cheerily, trying to lighten the mood.
Next time I get a divorce, I’ll plan the timing a little better. I bite back the remark. I’m still too angry—too unpleasant to be around. “Have you seen Lauren?” I ask instead.
“She’s with Caleb in their room. They both felt sick too, but they have a balcony.”
I turn toward her. My eyes widen a little in surprise. “Is it safe?”
She shrugs.
“Maybe you should’ve thought twice about going on a cruise if you’re that afraid,” Graham says.
I glare at him, wanting to say something scathing. I want to ask who the hell even invited him. Before I can get anything out, Wade says, “None of us knew about the storm.”
My eyes find his still staring at his monitor, and I realize he’s not typing. His fingers are poised above the keyboard but are unmoving. I wonder if he’s been that way all along and I didn’t realize it. Has he just been pretending to write?
“That’s right,” Marcella chimes in. “So quit being such a dick, Graham.” She turns to me. “We’ll be past the stor
m soon, and tomorrow we’ll be able to get off the ship. It will all be worth it when we get to lie under the shade of a palm tree and type all day long, trust me.”
I look up at the gray skies above. “You really think we’ll outrun it by tomorrow?”
“That’s what the captain said, isn’t it?” Graham says.
My face heats. “Do you have a problem with me?”
“No.” He pauses. “I have a problem… with complaining.”
I stand up on shaky legs. I don’t have to sit here and deal with this. Graham sounds too much like my husband—ex-husband, for me to stand his company any longer. There’s nothing that says I have to stay around him. He may be a part of our group, but that’s meaningless to me.
“She wasn’t complaining!” Marcella cries. “Don’t go, Erin.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m in the mood for a drink anyway.”
She glances at the men then back to me. “I’ll join you.”
“You don’t have to.”
She hesitates and I don’t hold it against her. I don’t miss the way her body turns toward Wade, the flush that creeps up her neck when he looks her way, the way she perspires when he talks to her. After all these years, I know when Marcella is interested in a man—and right now she wants Wade.
It doesn’t matter that we met him and the others for the first time when we boarded the ship yesterday. I’m not going to judge her, and I’m not going to take the chance to get to know him better away from her. We only have a week on our hands, and I want my friend to make the most of her vacation—not coddle me the whole time.
I walk away before she has the chance to think any more. “I’ll catch up with you later,” I call.
“Are you sure?” she calls back when I’m several steps away.
I wave a hand in the air, not bothering to look back. It’s no big deal. I smile to myself.
CHAPTER TWO
I sit at one of the several bars aboard the ship, watching the outside water spray the massive window. I take a sip from my glass, relishing the taste and the burn. The bartender was generous—an apology of sorts for the choppy day.
I’m about to get up, move to a spot closer to the window where I can sip my Long Island and listen to an audiobook, when a voice says, “Mind if I join you?”
I turn to see Wade. My stomach drops. Marcella. “Sure,” I say, torn between wanting solitude but also not wanting to be rude. He orders a beer, and we sit in silence until he says, “Graham is an ass.”
I laugh, already loose from the alcohol that my body isn’t used to. “I’m over it. It doesn’t matter.”
Wade nods.
“Did you two know each other already—before this trip?”
“Only through online,” he says, referring to the online writing group that we’re all a part of.
I nod. “What about the others?”
“Same.”
A man of little words.
“You?” he asks.
“Marcella and I have known each other forever. But no, everyone else—this is the first time.” I release a breath. “It was scary—the idea of going on a sort of vacation with a bunch of strangers, but exciting too.”
He raises an eyebrow. “It’s not really supposed to be a vacation.”
“Oh, you know what I mean.” I wave a hand around. “A writer’s retreat on a cruise ship isn’t exactly not a vacation.”
Wade laughs. “Good point.” He pauses before asking, “Are you feeling better?”
Heat creeps to my cheeks. I wiggle my glass. “Getting there.” And I’m not sure if it’s from the heat behind his eyes, or the heat radiating on my face, that makes me say, “So… where’s Marcella?”
“Reading,” he says, gaze unwavering. “Tom and Graham are still typing away, in case you were wondering.”
I open my mouth to say something else, but we’re interrupted. “Hey guys!”
Wade and I turn to see Lauren and Caleb holding hands behind us. Lauren is flushed and glowing, Caleb grinning. Neither looks seasick to me. “How about that storm? Gnarly, right?” Caleb says.
I give him a tight smile. “Tell that to my stomach.”
“I have a friend who works on board,” Lauren says. “Do you want me to see if he can get you anything? I’m sure they have Dramamine or something.”
“No thanks, this is helping some.” I hold up my drink, twirling the little umbrella.
“You guys get much writing done?” Caleb asks.
Wade and I share a look. “A little,” he says.
“I can’t focus in this,” I add. “I’m hoping tomorrow I’ll be more productive.”
“It’s our first full day at sea. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Caleb smiles at us, kisses Lauren’s hand, and takes a step back, pulling her with him.
“We’re going up. Catch you later,” Lauren says.
Wade turns to me, waiting like he expects me to want to follow after them.
“You don’t have to stay here with me. I’m fine, I promise.”
“That’s not—that’s not why I came down here.” He sighs. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
When he stands up to leave, I bite my lip, guilt flooding me. I wasn’t trying to push him away, just—“Wait,” I say, stopping him. I smile. “Tell me about your book.”
He grins. “Which one?”
I laugh. “The one you’re writing.”
He nods to the chairs by the window. “Let’s get more comfortable.”
We move from the bar to the cozy seats overlooking the ocean. Wade tells me all about his thriller about a truck driver who’s a serial killer and decides to invite his wife on his conquests. It’s the most I’ve heard him speak. Listening to him talk about his work, the way his eyes light up describing his own imagined characters, the way his whole body thrums with excitement—I feel like I could listen to him for hours.
“What about you?” he asks, realizing how much he’s been chatting and how little I’ve been.
“I’ve actually been—kind of struggling with that,” I admit. I bite my lip. “My—ex-husband didn’t—” I struggle for the right words. The ones that won’t make me cringe from anger and embarrassment.
“It’s been a struggle for me to write,” I say. “That’s why I’m here. I’m hoping to clear my head and finally get some words to paper.” I shrug. “I’m not sure what they’ll be.”
Wade’s lips thin. He nods in understanding. “I’m glad you’re free now.” He blushes, quickly adding, “I mean to write. To write whatever comes to you.”
Wade and I stay at our spot by the window, talking for hours. Somehow we don’t run out of things to say to one another. When my glass is drained, he orders me another and then another, never letting me go thirsty. The time slips by without either of us noticing, until the sea outside is no longer visible and I realize the violent rocking of the ship has ebbed.
“We must be past the storm,” I say, relieved.
“The worst of it, at least.”
My stomach growls and I notice how dark it is outside the large window now. “How long have we been here?”
“A while I guess.”
My stomach grumbles again. “I’m starving.” I start to stand, but my world spins on its axis. I fall toward Wade, who catches me easily. A drunken laugh slips through my lips.
He smiles.
“I might’ve had too much to drink,” I say in confidence.
“That might be my fault,” he admits.
He’s still holding me, hasn’t let go yet. I stay close to him, relishing the feel of warm arms around me after being lonely for so long. Divorce is such a long, ugly process. His hands keep my body steady, but my mind still spins and spins. I lay my head against his chest. Wade’s heartbeat speeds beneath my ear. He seems frozen in place, almost holding his breath.
My stomach rumbles again, making me giggle. I pull away, swaying a little. That’s when I see Marcella behind him, watching us with a grim expression. I step back in surprise
and sway again. Before I can speak, Wade pulls me back to him and bends to kiss me.