Page 33 of The Heartbreak Hotel

She cursed, realising that everything people said about her was right.

She was stuck. She had no purpose. She was looking for a quick fix. Something to make her feel better and to stick a plaster over the problems. But all that meant was the next time it was ripped off, it stung twice as badly, pulling off all the ugly scabs.

Her feet moved quicker, taking her further away from Sandy Springs and up the hillside. She didn’t know where she was going, but she didn’t care. Sweat beaded her forehead and ran down her neck, but she pushed on, until her feet ached and her lungs struggled to breathe.

Winnie had said a good shag might sort Ella out, but she realised she didn’t want that. She didn’t want a rebound. She wanted something that would last, like what Maeve and Annabelle had.

God. Now I’m jealous of them?

She admitted the truth. She longed to find someone who wanted her for who she was. Not a condensed version of herself—a quieter, thinner, smarter Ella 2.0—but an Ella who was intrinsically Ella. With all her loudness and flaws and imperfections.

Ella didn’t need to fly all the way to Portugal to be rejected again. She could’ve easily done that back home. She brushed the tears away with the back of her hand.

You need to break the cycle.

She heard Senhor Arenoso in her head and cursed, shouting to the wind. It frustrated her because he was right. If nothing changed, then this was going to be her life. Ella didn’t want that.

She needed to focus on herself.

That hit her brain like a skimming stone, reverberating outwards.

I need to focus on myself.

This whole time, she’d been chasing something she thought would make her happy. Getting back with Maeve. Sleeping with Riley. The easy fix. A dopamine hit that would ultimately leave her feeling shitty. She couldn’t do that anymore. She needed to put herself first.

A new sense of energy rushed through her. Her world of possibilities was blown wide open.

Ella could do anything she wanted to do, and she knew exactly where to start.

* * *

Pauline was right—the ruins were stunning. Ella ran her hands over the cool, crumbling stone and let out a sigh. She didn’t know how long it’d taken her to get here—she had no watch and no phone now that it’d been smashed to pieces—but judging by the sun’s position in the sky, hours had passed.

Huge overgrown bushes sprouted colourful flowers around the ruins, nature finding its way back through the cracks in the masonry. She made a mental note to ask Pauline about the history here; she’d not been listening to her before and probably owed her an apology.

A profound sense of calm descended on her as she walked through the ankle-length grass and looked out over the cliff edge. Dark clouds gathered above, but that feeling of foreboding never came. It felt as though each wave lulling against the shore far below was reaching out to her, coating her in a calm she’d never felt before.

She hadn’t meant to snap at Riley, or call her a coward, but she’d hated the feeling of her pulling away, and she hadn’t been able to stop herself. Still, she shouldn’t have done it. She knew better than anyone how mixing work and pleasure brought many complications, after all.

After a few more minutes of watching the waves, she started her journey home.

Luckily, the worn path had been easy to spot on the way up, and the castle’s towers poking out from the trees had acted as a good guide. Ella could do the same with Sandy Springs on the way down and use the village as a guide. She followed the path as it wound down and around the hillside but stopped dead in her tracks when it disappeared into a body of water.

Weird. I’m sure it was this way.

She spun around, looking for another option, but the lone path that joined the two hills was now hidden by the tide.

Shit.

The water lapped at the earth around her. Was it still rising? She retreated up the path and concluded, after a few minutes of watching, that, yes, it was.

A prick of fear crept up her spine.

Not ideal. But she could make it work. Her tree-climbing skills were proving to be competitive—as long as she didn’t drop anything—but having no water or food might be a bit worrisome.

Her belly rumbled on cue. With all the goat—and then Riley—palaver, she’d missed dinner.

Her hopes sank along with the light in the sky as the tiniest of raindrops landed on her skin. Were there wolves in Portugal? She couldn’t remember. It would be quite the tragedy to finally rediscover her mojo and then be eaten alive by a rabid pack.