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I belong only to me.
But he will come for me.
And I can’t bear the thought of Scotty being in his way. If Scotty got hurt because of me, I’d never forgive myself.
The water meets my toes once more, this time more forceful, and the water flows up to my ankles, burying the gold anklet. Then just as quickly, the water flows back out to sea, leaving my feet buried in the wet sand.
Buried.
I’m like my feet, in a way. Buried. I so want to climb out of Lucifer’s grasp, but I know my time here on Wolfe Island is only a temporary respite.
He’s coming.
I can feel it.
“Hey, pretty girl.”
I jolt at the words and look up. Scotty’s walking toward me carrying two red plastic cups. He hands me one.
“Brought you a drink.”
I look into the cup and sniff. “Beer?”
“You too good for beer, pretty girl?”
“No. It’s just been…a long time since I’ve had a beer.” I take drink, letting the cold maltiness coat my mouth and throat. I swallow. “It’s good.”
“It’s basic Bud Light. The stuff of frat parties.”
“Still, it’s good. Refreshing.”
He takes a swallow. “It is that. Nothing like the Scotty special, though, right?”
I smile. “That was in a class by itself.”
“You come up with a name yet?”
“Not yet.” I take another sip of beer.
“We’ve got time.”
“I suppose.” Except he’s wrong. There’s an invisible timer around my neck. I’m just not sure when it’s set to expire.
“You want to come to a party?”
“Your bonfire?”
“Yeah. It’s a staff party, but I bet they’ll let you in.” He points. “That’s our beach over there. For staff use only. It’s really nice.”
“If it’s for staff use only, I shouldn’t go over there. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
“You won’t, but I get it.” He smiles and pushes a lock of hair out of my eye. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. I may not leave my hut.”
“Emily,” he says.
And I listen. I listen because he’s never called me Emily before. Either pretty girl or Em.
Never Emily.
“…you’re on a beautiful island. You can paint to your heart’s content. That’s why you’re here. But I’m not going to let you waste your time here by sitting alone in your hut every day until you leave.
“I—”
“Look.” He grabs both my hands.
Tingles shoot through me.
“I won’t force you to do anything. I don’t have that power over you and I don’t want it. But whatever you’re hiding from, it won’t find you here. I promise you.”
I can’t help it. I shake my head and let out a scoffing laugh. “You just don’t know.”
“I’ll know if you tell me.”
I meet his gorgeous gaze. “Nice try.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything. In fact, we don’t have to go back to the staff party. We can walk along the shoreline, as you’ve been doing. Or I can leave you here. You can walk alone. It’s safe.”
“I don’t want to keep you from your party.”
“I’d much rather have your company. May I walk with you?”
I nod. He drops one of my hands and we begin walking, hand in hand, in the opposite direction, away from the staffer beach and his party.
Toward the colony, the bar, the restaurants. We walk past the people who are out painting in the dark, past the couples chatting intimately, past the night lifeguard on duty, past the surf and rent shop.
Past everything, until the shoreline and the moon are our only company.
And my hand is still in his.
And I like the way it feels.
I like it very much.
I almost feel…safe.
12
Scotty
I’m a bartender, which means I’m a talker. It also means I can recognize when a customer doesn’t want to talk. If I talk too much to someone who doesn’t want it, I don’t get a tip—at least at bars where tipping is allowed. It’s all about reading people.
I’m reading Em now. She doesn’t want to talk.
That’s okay.
Sure, I want to know more about her. Man, I want to know everything about her, but in her time.
I don’t know how long she’s booked here on the island. I could check with Manual, but does it matter?
I’m a live-for-the-day kind of guy. Carpe diem and all that. I always have been, and today’s no different.
Perhaps Emily will leave tomorrow. Perhaps she’ll stay a couple months.
All that matters is this moment. Right now.
And although I won’t deny that I’d love to get her between the sheets, I’m content, in this moment, to walk to along the shoreline with her and simply hold her hand.
So I’m surprised when she stops walking and turns to face the ocean.
“It’s so vast,” she says. “I can see so far just in the moonlight.”
“The moon doesn’t actually make any light,” I say. “It’s a reflection from the sun.”
She smiles. “You learned that as a psychology major?”
“No, I learned that in seventh-grade earth science.”
