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Fourteen
Malakai
Leavingthe boat shop and Princess in the capable hands of Grant, I make my way to Lola’s Shack. It’s almost 9 pm and there are already a few people loitering outside the locked door.
“Looks like it’s the pub tonight lads,” one of Rob’s crew states as I near the crowd.
As they move away from the shack, I notice a sign pinned to the door. Lola has closed up for the evening.
“Shit,” I grumble. I’d been hoping that Lola would be around so I could take her up on her offer of a place to sleep for a few nights. Not that I need permission, given it is my home after all, but I don’t want to turn up unannounced. Clayhill might be mine, given the deeds are still in my name, but it’s her home now and I need to respect that. Pulling my mobile phone out of my back pocket I’m glad to see that there’s enough reception to call ahead. WiFi is hit and miss on the island, but if Lola has a man at her place, I’d rather not turn up without at least giving her a heads up.
Lifting the phone to my ear, I wait for her to pick up. It almost clicks to voicemail when I hear a familiar voice at the other end. A voice that does not belong to Lola.
“Siren?” I ask, before I can stop myself.
“Erm, no. It’s Connie…” Silence greets me.
“That’s what I meant,” I fumble, internally cursing myself at my stupidity. Why does this girl make me act like an imbecile? More to the point, why is she answering Lola’s phone?
“Where’s Lola?” I snap, hiding my embarrassment with a snarl.
“In bed. She’s not well.”
“What do you mean she’s not well?”
“She was feeling poorly at work today. I sent her home, then came over a couple hours ago to bring her some dinner Grandma made. She’s been fast asleep the whole time, but…”
“But?” I try and fail to keep the bite out of my tone. It’s not her fault I’m an arse and a shitty best friend. I should’ve checked in on Lola, but I’ve been so wrapped up in getting Princess fixed and avoiding the very same siren I’m currently talking to, that I didn’t.
“I stayed to keep her company, but she has a temperature and it seems to be getting worse.” When I let out a growl of frustration aimed at Lola for not calling me, Connie misinterprets it and rushes on. “Don’t worry, I’ve called for Dr Fuller, he’ll be here soon…”
“I’m coming over now,” I state, pressing the end-call button and flagging down Rob’s car that’s just pulled into the carpark next to the harbour.
“You alright, mate?” he asks me through his open window.
“Can I get a lift to Lola’s house? She’s not well.”
His eyes widen with a concern that surprises me. “Shit. Of course, jump in.”
Less than ten minutes later we pull up outside Clayhill and I hop out of the car not bothering to shut the door behind me as I run down the path and into the house. I hear low voices talking upstairs, so take them two at a time and head towards the main bedroom that overlooks the garden, assuming she’s taken the bigger of the two. Baxter, Lola’s puppy, is jumping up and down in excitement as I walk down the corridor, much to my agitation. He’s cute, but right now I haven’t got time to greet him.
“Down boy. Stay!” I chastise. He sits on his arse by Lola’s bedroom door, looking up at me with his cute brown eyes. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll take you out for a walk later?” I suggest. He seems to understand me because his jaw drops open and his tongue flops out in an almost human expression of thanks.
When I enter the room, Dr Fuller is taking Lola’s temperature and talking to her in low tones. She’s awake but looks like death. Her gaze catches mine and she manages a grimace.
“I’m fine, tonsillitis,” she explains with a croak.
Relief floods through me. Tonsillitis, okay we can deal with that. Once my immediate worry dissipates, I become very aware of Connie standing in the corner of the room, staring at me. The heat of her gaze batters against my resolve to stay well away from her, to not even look at her, and yet despite that, I can’t help but do exactly that. She was right about the attraction between us. It’s so potent, so strong, that I can’t seem to stop myself from moving towards her. For the past couple of days I’ve been going over and over the conversation we had that morning in the harbour. I’ve never been as candid with anyone and I’ve no idea why she, of all people, would make me feel comfortable enough to admit how I feel. It’s thrown me off-kilter, the honesty I was able to share, and yet it seemed right somehow. I’d hoped that by acknowledging these feelings and telling her that nothing between us could ever happen would put an end to the ache in my chest and the fire in my loins, but it hasn’t. God fucking help me, it hasn’t.
Just like the sirens in mythical tales, her voice had infiltrated my dreams that morning and I had to go and see where it was coming from, if only to make sure I wasn’t going crazy and hearing things that weren’t real. When I spotted Connie on the dock, with her eyes pressed shut and swaying to the sweet sound of her own music as she strummed her guitar, I’d been entranced. Fucking lost, actually, in her ethereal beauty, her calm serenity as she sung. For the few moments when she hadn’t realised I was close by, I’d basked in the peace she elicited in me. A feeling of calm, of wholeness, had washed over me and it scared the shit out of me.
I’m still fucking terrified.
Which is why, as soon as Princess is fixed, I’m leaving.
“Lola will be okay. Dr Fuller has prescribed antibiotics and rest. She’ll be back to herself in no time,” Connie rambles on, misinterpreting the expression I must be wearing.
I nod tightly. “You should’ve called me earlier. I would’ve come straight away,” I grumble, unable to stop myself from sounding like an ungrateful arsehole. She shoots me a look that cuts right through me. She’s pissed at my snippiness, as she well should be, but there’s something else in the gleam of her pretty eyes, something that has me wanting to fall to my knees and beg for her forgiveness.
