“I love you, Dillon.” The words slip rather easily out of his mouth, unconditionally and naturally.
“And I love you. More than you probably realize.”
* * * *
Hours later. It’s not the first time they’ve made love on their private sliver of sandy beach after dark. This is their third time since they arrived on Pine Island. Jason’s not keeping track, but the number isn’t lost from his memory. How much time they make love to each other doesn’t seem to be a concern to either of them. What feels important is how they have mastered these inseparable and naked actions: two blankets spread over the sand, a plastic box that looks like a First-Aid kit filled with condoms and a small tube of lube, clean-up towels, a water bottle to stay hydrated, and white sage burning in a seashell to keep the Floridian insects away.