Present Day…
“That’s a great tattoo,” Sienna says.
“Thanks.” I offer nothing more.
Sienna just toasted to “surviving the storm.”
I’ve already survived the ultimate storm. Whatever this island and these men have in store for me? Or what June or Misty may have up their sleeves?
It’s nothing.
I’ve been to hell and back. Nothing will surprise me.
The words I said to Sebastian mere days ago echo in my mind again.
I’m an open book, Sebastian. Except for that tattoo. I don’t talk about it. So don’t ever ask me about it again. That’s all I’m going to say on the matter. I don’t need to hear an apology, or an “I didn’t know,” or a “You can tell me anything, baby, and I’ll understand.” Because trust me. You won’t understand.
It wasn’t a complete lie. Iaman open book.
Correction—Heather Hillis an open book.
But Heather Hill is an illusion.
Sienna doesn’t press me about the tattoo.
Good.
Sienna eyes the French doors leading to the mansion. “I wonder who’s slamming doors in there?”
“Who fucking knows?” I finish my drink. “I could use a swim. Want to join me?”
She doesn’t respond right away. Then, “You know what? Yeah. Pool or ocean?”
“Who gives a shit?”
She laughs. “You’re right. Let’s just get some distance between us and this house.”
We go upstairs—not running into anyone other than staff, thank God—and change into our suits.
Sienna wears a gold tankini, and I choose a blood-red bikini that clashes with my black and blue hair. But it feels right. I’m in a red mood.
We head outside—this time narrowly avoiding Ariel, Jazz, and Cheryl who are talking nonstop about tomorrow’s festivities—and walk toward the pool house.
The air is heavy with salt and tension, and for a splitsecond I consider walking down the concrete pathway and straight into the ocean, swimming until I hit Jamaica.
Not that I want to leave the island, but I’d just as soon miss whatever’s brewing. I’m not afraid of a storm, but that doesn’t mean I want to walk headfirst into one.
Instead, I follow Sienna to the pool area, shed my suit so I’m buck naked, and dive right in.
The water wraps around me and steals the air from my lungs. It drowns out everything else. No voices, no memories, no footsteps echoing down a hallway that no longer exists. Just the feeling of weightlessness, as if for once, I’m not carrying anything. Not guilt. Not fear. Not the past.
Just me. Alone, submerged, unbothered.
Free.
I swim a few laps and then pull myself out and sit on the edge.
Sienna swims over and props her arms on the tile, looking toward the house.
