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Twenty-One
Connie
Anger is a strange emotion.It somehow grounds me in a way that lust, thatlovecan’t. It pushes away all other emotions and allows me to remain strong in the face of the man I haven’t stopped thinking about for the past lonely year. All that longing, all those pretty thoughts, those foolish hopes and dreams have made way for this fiery rage, and I grab hold off it with all my might.
Stepping further into Grant’s boat shop, I feel that anger I’ve locked inside rear its head. Like a fire-breathing dragon it unfurls its long neck, smoke pouring from flared nostrils ready to eviscerate this man my heart and soul are already lost to.
“What is it? Cat gotyourtongue?” he pushes me, prodding me to react.
Lifting my chin, I meet Malakai’s hard gaze and scoff, looking him up and down. “You got a damn cheek, Malakai!” I seethe, proud that my voice refuses to wobble with the tears of relief that I know are brimming inside.
“Anyone would think I’ve pissed you off somehow,” he smirks.
“Are you for real? You text me out of the blue over two weeks ago, saying we need to talk but don’t call me, andthenyou send another message this morning clicking your fingers and expecting me to come running after ayearof nothing. Well, fuck you and fuck that!”
I’m fully aware that my foul language is rivalling the potty mouths of all the fishermen here in this harbour, but I don’t care.I don’t care. Malakai doesn’t deserve the pretty words and the beautiful lyrics I’ve filled my notebooks with over the last year. He doesn’t deserve the emotion I’ve bled into all the songs I’ve written for him.
“Is this your idea of some fucked up, twisted, booty call? Because if it is, I’m not interested.”
Malakai’s eyes widen but he doesn’t move, he just glares, stripping me bare with his greedy gaze. “Yeah, that’s exactly it. You were so fucking good, Little Siren, it’s taken a year to come back for more,” he grunts, his lips curling up with his sarcasm.
Little Siren. His nickname for me. The way he says it has my core clenching with desire, but I push the feeling roughly away, alongside his hateful, condescending words.
“Then what are you here for, huh? Did you get bored suddenly sailing around the damn world and wanted someone to fucking torment?” I stamp my foot, fully aware how childish that appears but I can’t help myself. I want to kill him. I want to throw myself into his arms and kiss him until both of us are gasping for breath. Every cell within me calls to him, wants him. But the anger, the anger makes sure I don’t do something stupid like professing my undying love right here, right now.
“The tides brought me here,” he shrugs. “Perhaps I fancied a beer at Lola’s Shack. Does it really matter why I’m back?”
Of course it fucking matters.
“You said we needed to talk. So talk.Whyare you here?”
He falters, his mouth opening then shutting. If I weren’t so angry I might have found it endearing. “There’s stuff going on with the King,” he finally says.
“Bullshit.”
“It always is a big steaming pile of shit where the King’s concerned,” he retorts.
“So you came back here to spy on the King, is that it?”
“No, to gather information.”
He’s lying. I can tell by the way he keeps avoiding my gaze, as though he knows I’ll find the truth buried within them.
“You know what, I don’t even care why you’re back. But just so we’re perfectly clear I want you to know how much you’ve hurt people. Lola mourned you, Malakai. If it hadn’t been for Rob, I don’t know how she would’ve put herself back together again. She deserved better.”
Ideserved better.
In the beginning, I thought, Ihopedmy messages would bring him back to me, to us. I was naïve and foolish. I was just a kid who believed in true love, in fate, in stars colliding and all that bullshit. That belief has been tarnished now just like the derelict boats that rust in the harbour outside. It only occurs to me now, right here, standing before this man I still long for, that my heart has hardened. I feel a thousand years old, brittle.
“I told you I’d leave. Iwarnedyou, Connie. Lola understands that, even if she might not like it. I’m not responsible for how either of you choose to handle your emotions,” he says calmly.
“Fuck you, Malakai,” I grind out. He did warn me, and I went there anyway. Malakai is nothing if not a man of his word. He’s proved that now. I see how it is.
“So angry, Little Siren…” he says it gently, like a caress, and my foolish heart buckles a little.
“You made me…” I clamp my mouth shut, forcing my confession back inside.
“I made you what?” Malakai narrows his eyes at me, gritting his teeth, that infuriating muscle feathering in his jaw as the softness disappears.
