Page 16 of Uncharted Desires

West turned back toward her. “At first, I didn’t have any other skills or training, so it was the only thing I knew how to do,” West said. “I’m not like Luke. I needed something to do, more than just sit around and live off daddy’s money. But after releasing my first album and going on my first headlining tour, I realized why my dad loved being a rock star so much. The crowds, the people I met, the feel of a guitar in my hands, and the music surrounding me—there’s no greater feeling than knowing I created that music.”

“Then why quit?” West could tell Kat was trying to push at him, and he wasn’t sure how much more he was willing to answer. He had never told anyone these things, and yet with her, it seemed easy. Something he didn’t want to think about when it came to why he pushed her away all those years ago.

Not that he was going to tell her everything. “It’s not enjoyable anymore,” was all he offered her.

“But . . . it can be. You just need to—“

“Kat, that’s enough. I don’t want to talk about it,” he cut her off.

“But—“

“Kat, please, not right now. I don’t want to fight, and I don’t want to explain myself. I just want to get you water and know you’re safe.”

She took a step back from him, annoyance on her face, and West felt bad that he had snapped at her.

Moving toward her he shrank the space between them. They had entered a clearing where the trees had parted into an open canopy. A single sun ray pierced through the leaves and shone on her like a halo. His fingertips lightly grazed her arm and moved down her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. She didn’t move, and all West could focus on was how soft her skin was beneath his touch.

West could hear her breathing become uneven. His proximity unsettled her, and he didn’t know why he felt compelled to touch her.

“I’m sorry, Kat,” he said.

He wasn’t usually one for apologies, but there was something about falling drunkenly off a yacht into the Indian Ocean that had West realizing he owed her one. “This situation is all my fault. I usually never get so drunk, although I didn’t think I was drunk enough to fall off a yacht. I still feel like something is off about all this, but I’m going to take responsibility for our predicament. I promise I will get us out of this.”

She blinked up at him in confusion, and he could swear he saw disappointment in her eyes. Whatever she was expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. She shook her head and rolled her eyes before turning away from him, annoyed by something he said.

“You don’t have to keep promising to save me,” she called back over her shoulder as she continued walking.

“Kat, wait . . . where are you going?”

“Come look!” she cried from up ahead. He couldn’t see her, but he could hear the excitement in her voice.

“What is it?” As he got closer, he saw she had found a small stream with a little waterfall and she was drinking the water eagerly, a smile on her face.

As he walked toward the stream, relief coursed through West’s body. But his euphoria was short-lived as he felt something slimy and squishy underneath one of his bare feet. Before he could react, a searing pain shot through his foot and he stumbled to the ground, clutching it in agony. Looking down, he saw two puncture marks on the top of his foot and watched in horror as a snake slithered away into the brush.

“Shit!” he yelled, his heart beating wildly with fear.

“What happened?” Kat asked, her voice trembling with concern as she rushed to his side.

“I-I stepped on a snake,” West managed to choke out between gasps of pain.

“It bit you?” Her face turned white with alarm.

West nodded weakly, feeling his vision blur and head spin.

“What color was it?” Kat demanded urgently.

“What does that matter?” West cried out, trying to stay conscious.

“Just tell me!” Kat’s voice rose in panic as she moved closer to him.

“Green,” West gritted out before succumbing to darkness.

Six

Weston Monroe, international rock star, would go and get himself bitten by a venomous island pit viper on an uncharted island in Indonesia.

She held his limp body in her lap. He would die, and it would go in the history books as all her fault. They would bury him in Bali, and everyone would flock to his grave like they did to Jim Morrison’s. His headstone would read, “Here lies Weston Monroe, who died tragically young of a snakebite because Kat Brooks couldn’t save him.”