It was difficult to build anything real when you could sense that what the other person offered was surface level at best. At the time, I had convinced myself that was enough, that I could take what I needed, offer the bare minimum in return, and walk away without consequence. But even that had been a lie, one that had left its own quiet strain behind, building over time in ways I had only fully understood after I left Okinawa.
That was why I had chosen this life, one of solitude and control. An existence built on purpose rather than attachment. I helped where I could,took on what others couldn’t carry, and in return, I kept my distance. It was simply easier that way.
So why was Kara slipping past that so easily?
I had touched her once—twice, if today counted—and already, it felt different.Shefelt different, and I couldn’t deny that it was part of the reason I sat here now, watching the cliff, ready to remain through the coming storm in case my concerns about the cottage blowing over came true and I needed to step in and help. Because she had secrets, that I was sure of, secrets I’d never uncover if she blew away in the wind or was crushed by a roof I was convinced wasn’tactuallypatched the way she claimed.
Yeah, that was why I was here. Part of my self-appointed, ongoing investigation, and not at all because of the constant worry tugging at me to make sure she survived the storm. No, this was about my obsessive need to be right. And I was sure I was, because I knew she was hiding something. What I’d actually do with that information once I found it, I had no idea, but that didn’t stop the pull to uncover it.
The storm came slowly at first, just a few scattered drops, a subtle shift in the wind, and all the while I remained where I was, seated in the sand, watching as the water darkened beneath the sky.
I tilted my head back, letting the rain hit my face, closing my eyes for a brief moment as the sound settled into something almost soothing. For a second, it felt manageable, the kind of storm that threatened more than it delivered. Perhaps I had overestimated it and maybe I was out here for nothing.
It wouldn’t have been the first time a so-called “storm of the century” turned into little more than a gust of wind and a few scattered splashes. The cove had a way of dramatizing its warnings, so maybe this was just another one of those times.
Above me, the silhouette of the cliff remained steady, her cottage still perched where it had been, dark against the shifting sky but otherwise intact.
Maybe she would be fine.
Maybe she was more capable than I had given her credit for. It was entirely possible she had managed more repairs than I had assumed, or that the cottage itself wasn’t in as poor condition as I had initially judged. There had been a stubbornness about her, a refusal to yield even when it would have been easier, and that kind of determination had a way of compensating for a lack of experience.
The thought had barely settled when the sky split open. Lightning tore across the horizon in a jagged, blinding line, illuminating the entire cove in stark white, followed immediately by a crack of thunder that shook the air. And just like that, the soft, steady rain I had been enjoying turned into a heavy downpour, the wind driving the droplets in every direction.
My gaze snapped upward, locking onto the cliff, the faint outline of her cottage barely visible now through the rising storm. From where I stood, it still looked upright, but distance had a way of disguising damage, and the way the wind struck that side of the cliff at that moment...
My jaw tightened, because I knew there was a very real possibility that the next gust would rip the structure straight from the cliff with her still inside it. Maybe she was already trapped beneath something that hadgiven way, something I couldn’t see from down here. Or maybe she was completely fine, asleep and unaware of any of it, using the sound as her own personal ASMR.
Or she was asleep because she was unconscious, because she had underestimated just how dangerous that place was.
The worry in my bones only grew, but I told myself to stay where I was. It wasn’t my place, and if she had chosen to take on the repairs herself, then the consequences of that decision belonged to her and her alone. I had offered help, and she had refused, so therefore my responsibility ended there.
Yet something in me refused to settle. A quiet insistence pressed beneath my ribs, my tentacles shifting slightly at my back as if they felt it too, the same instinct that had brought me here in the first place.
I exhaled sharply.Fine.I would go up, check, confirm that the house remained structurally sound and standing, and then I would leave. That was all. Nothing more.
My feet found the path without hesitation, moving quickly over the slick stone, then faster as I hit the incline. The climb pulled at my muscles as the rain soaked through my clothes, the wind pushing hard against me with each step, but I didn’t slow.
By the time I reached the top of the cliff, I was already soaked through, my muscles sore from fighting to keep my footing as the wind threatened to knock me straight off my feet. That would have been a sight, coming all this way to “save” her only to tumble down the cliff and land flat on my ass.
The entire situation and journey up this hill had bordered on absurd, and yet I had made it.
As I approached, a quiet sense of relief settled in my chest. The cottage was still standing, if only just barely. Though I’m sure it had likely looked like this before the storm ever rolled in. The structure leaned in a way that was undeniably unsafe, the wood darkened and swollen with moisture, the windows rattling violently in their frames as the wind battered against them.
And still, despite all of that, it actually looked functional, if only somewhat, but intact enough that I slowed a few steps from the door, deciding my next move. It looked fine, so my job here was done, and therefore it was time to go back down the cliff and try not to crack my head open by slipping on the way down.
That was what I should have done. Patted myself on the back for my good deed as a concerned citizen and left her to deal with whatever consequences were born out of her stubbornness to do everything herself and her naivety for investing in such a property to begin with. So yes, I was leaving, no need to stand out here with the wind and rain as my soundtrack while she was quietly holed up inside.
I turned to go, ready to face the path again, until I heard it. A sharp, frightened gasp. No, not a gasp,a scream,muffled by the walls. And just like that, my plans changed. I didn’t hesitate as I shoved the door open, relieved when it gave way without resistance.
Unlocked.
Of course it was unlocked. She couldn’t even manage that correctly—unless the door itself was broken—which, given everything else, wasn’t an unlikely possibility. If anything, that only solidified myjustification for this very impromptu entry, though the “breaking” part of breaking and entering had clearly been handled long before I arrived.
My gaze swept the room in a single pass, taking everything in at once.
The state of the place was worse than I had imagined. Water had already begun to seep in from multiple points, the floor slick in uneven patches, the walls marked with dark stains where the rain had forced its way through. The windows had been patched with uneven pieces of cardboard—fucking cardboard—that shuddered with every gust of wind, already soaking through and threatening to collapse into useless pulp at any moment. The cabinets hung at crooked angles from what looked like a shitty repair job, while others were barely clinging to their hinges, and everything was coated in a fine layer of dust and grime that suggested neglect long before she had ever set foot inside.
And in the middle of it all—no, above it—stood Kara.
