Dan couldn’t move. He just stood there, staring at the face in front of him like it had punched the air out of his lungs. His breath hitched. Eyes wide. Lydia.
A name he’d nearly erased from memory.
If they hadn’t run into each other today, he wouldn’t have remembered a damn thing about what happened on that godforsaken island.
Seven survivors, including him, had washed up on a remote strip of land after drifting for hours in open water.
Gale Hansen was the loudest, most stubborn of the bunch. A washed-up actor, at least that’s what he claimed. Said he’d been in movies, though no one had ever heard of him. He was quick to crown himself leader, barking orders, rationing scraps, making calls that usually led to disaster instead of solutions.
Dan remembered it clearly, Lydia always stood
