Gerald’s POV
The morning light filtered through the mosquito netting in thin green shafts, already heavy with heat. I woke up with Cece’s bare thigh thrown over mine and the sticky memory of last night still drying on my fingers.
Across the wide balcony the other hammock hung empty; Caz and Melissa must have slipped downstairs. The jungle screamed around us, howlers, insects, something larger crashing through the undergrowth but none of it was louder than the new silence inside my own head.
Downstairs the long wooden table held coffee, sliced mango, and leftover rice. Caz sat with his back to the river, shirtless, a smear of dried mud still on his collarbone. Melissa poured coffee with steady hands that only trembled when she passed the mug to me and our fingers touched.
“Sleep okay?
