Surviving Us Read Online Free PDF Page A

and he waves us on through. A few more minutes of rough terrain, and the car slows to a stop. I glance over at D, not sure what to expect from him, but lying back on the seat with his eyes closed definitely isn’t it.
    “Come on, D,” I urge as I touch his arm lightly, my enthusiasm erasing any irritation I felt towards him. “We’re here.”
    His eyes flutter open and he rolls his head to the side, staring straight at me. A lazy, lopsided grin pulls at one corner of his full lips as he reaches out and tenderly brushes his thumb across my cheekbone. The startling, seemingly out-of-character movement pins me to the seat.
    “You need to stay far away from me, Bristol. I’m supposed to be a good boy while I’m here, and you’re the perfect kind of trouble for me.” He taps my nose with his fingertip, then opens the door and jumps out of the car, leaving me wondering what in the hell just happened.
    The gentle caress and words of warning leave a lump in my throat, my heart pounding in my chest, and quite possibly, my panties a little bit damp. This should be an interesting twelve days, if nothing else.
    Dr. Secret opens my door for me and I stumble out of the car, eyes wide open as I get my first glimpse of the entrance to the understated, but luxurious main building. He escorts me up to the door, rolling my bags behind him as I move my head up, down, and all around, taking everything in.
    “Check-in is right over there,” he points to where D is standing at a counter, “and when you’re ready to leave to the airport, tell them to call me, Dr. Secret, and I will come get you, girl.”
    “Thank you, I will,” I smile up at him. “Have fun line dancing tonight.”
    He winks. “That, I plan on, and you have fun while you’re here. Make him have fun too,” he nods his head in D’s direction, “even though he’ll try hard not to.”
    I nod, laughing softly. “I’ll do my best.”
    As I wait my turn to check in, I continue to soak up everything around me—the detailed woodwork in all of the furniture, the bright-colored flowers sprinkled around the room—and then I stop, my focus gluing to the breathtaking view of the sparkling blue waters of the Caribbean Sea. Wow . It’s even more amazing than I ever dreamed. Absolutely perfect.
    “Ma’am, I can help you now,” the female behind the desk calls out to me.
    Begrudgingly, I tear my gaze from the wall of glass and shuffle over to the desk. D is standing off to the side, not paying any attention to me; whether or not it’s on purpose, I’m unsure.
    The check-in process is quick and easy. Lena, according to her nametag, pulls out an envelope with my name on it and hands me the key to my N or Nich cottage, which she explains are named, not numbered, after Patois words, the adopted language of the locals. I was too busy gaping at the vista to eavesdrop and hear which one D is in, but hopefully it’s on the other side of the grounds from mine. I’m here to finally meet some of the friends I’ve made online and to make new ones, while we share our different coping techniques and treatments as we all learn how to move on from our tragedies . . . not to hang out with a guy who unnerves me with a single touch.
    As Lena steps out from behind the welcome counter, she smiles brightly, addressing both me and D. “You can both leave your things here in the lobby, and someone will take them to your rooms while I give you a brief tour of the property.”
    She leads us across the terracotta-colored tile floor towards the back of the lobby, opening the glass door and motioning for us to walk outside with her. I’m careful not to get too close to him—after all, he told me to stay away—and try to focus all of my attention on what she’s saying.
    “This is our open-air dining area. Buffet-style breakfast will be served here each morning from seven to ten, and lunch is available from eleven to two, both of which are very casual. At night, as you can see the staff