Page 49 of Endless Depths

At the sound of his zipper, I scramble off the bed. “What are you doing?”

He buttons his pants and looks up, eyes hardened. “What I promised.” The contempt in his tone turns each word into a curse. “What you did to me. I’m leaving when you need me.” He pulls his hoodie over his head. “Tonight, I’m going to fuck my fist with a grin and no regrets because I know you’ll be fucking yourself with the dildo I bought to DP you, wishing I never left.”

“Wait. Don’t go.” I jump to my feet. It’s not about the sex. I’m afraid if he walks out that door, I’ll never see him again.

“Sorry. That ship has sailed.” He winks.

He’s reminding me of where we started, just teens living under the same roof, fishing long hours on the boat when school was out. I used to annoy the hell out of him with nautical puns because every once in a while a smile emerged from behind his flat affect.

When you’ve been with someone for years, you know exactly how to hurt them. Morgan has more than a decade of ammunition, and I’m all out of armor.

“You could have had me, but you wasted it.” He dons his jacket. “If you want me back, you’re going to have to work for it and hope to hell I haven’t replaced you by then. Because when you kick me out, pack up my stuff, and ask for a divorce, that’s what comes next.”

My stomach lurches like I crested a massive wave. The ocean is crumbling beneath my feet, and I won’t survive the fall.

He massages between his brows, and shakes his head. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop loving you.” His hand curls around my hip, fingertips trailing toward my ass. “But I promise you, husband of mine, I’ll fuck my way through as many people as it takes to forget the way you feel.”

He didn’t just turn the tables. He flipped them, snapped a leg off, and eviscerated me with it.

He picks up the box labeledUs, eyes shining with tears. “When did it happen?”

“What?”

“I took care of you for months, I’ve loved you for most of my life, and as soon as you didn’t need me, you got rid of me. When did you decide we were done?”

I don’t know if I ever decided. I just couldn’t do it anymore.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I say, voice cracking. “When I get out, I want you gone.”

By ‘take a shower’ I mean ‘turn the water on and wait for him to leave, then turn it off without stepping under the spray.’ I can’t watch him leave, and I won’t wash away his touch. I need to hold on to his scent until it fades and map the historical landmarks he left on my body—the beard rash on my neck, the path his fingers took, every single kiss. At least the scars on my heart are permanent.

“No,” Morgan says. “You’re going to hold the door open for me, and do whatever the fuck you want after I leave. I don’t have to listen to you anymore.”

He heads to the door, and I have no choice but to help him because I need him to get out of here before I fall apart.

“I’ll text you to arrange a time to pick up the rest.” He leans his back against the door, propping it open. “Oh, and Sunshine, don’t hire that skipper unless you want to take his wages out of your share. The boat’s half mine, it’s Finn’s inheritance, and I don’t trust you not to sink it.”

He’s always believed in me, and his lack of confidence hurts, but the chance to see him again softens the blow. He’s not quitting the boat, at least not yet. Even if we part ways after the season’s over, maybe I can make up for the pain I caused him.

He nods brusquely, and leaves. He just fucking leaves. I lock the door before I go after him. The pain of his departure eclipses all the physical pain I’ve ever suffered.

Muscle spasms strangle my sciatic nerve and burn acid through my glutes. On the way to the bed, I take the framed wedding photo Morgan forgot, the one with him kissing my smile, and trip over a shirt on the floor. Pain slices down my leg as I bend to pick it up. It’s Morgan’s. I lift the shirt to my face and inhale sea salt and petrichor cologne mixed with his natural scent, filling me with homesickness—for my husband, for the ocean, for the time before I lost Seb.

Blinking back tears, I wrap Morgan’s shirt around the picture frame, slide under the rumpled bed linen, roll onto my good side, and hug the frame and shirt to my chest, feeling so fucking empty.

After hours of agony, I finally fall asleep. When I dream, I don’t dream of him.

I’m standing alone on the edge ofBriar’sbow. Waves crash over the deck. We’re seconds away from sinking, but instead of clinging to the fleeting hope of survival, I climb on top of the rail and leap.

Cole & Morgan Texts

Cole

I just woke up. Are you okay? I tried calling.

Morgan, I’m sorry.

I don’t know how to fight for you when I don’t think I’m worth fighting for.