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My stomach growls when I see there’s food on the table outside, so I step out onto the deck and inhale a deep breath of the sea breeze. The island has a ton of natural flowers and greenery, white beaches, and the clearest turquoise water I’ve ever seen. It looks fake, like a dream. On the table is a full breakfast spread with fresh fruit and drinks. There’s way too much here for two people. It looks amazing, and it’s still hot. The breeze is warm off the water, and the sun is high in the sky.
As I sit and pick at the food on the plate in front of me, I gaze at the water. My thoughts drift with the lapping of the waves, not really staying on any one thing for very long. I wish Marcus were here. I wish I knew what happened to him. Having Asher shoved in my face brings back all the pain of losing them both to the surface. I feel like I’m suffocating all over again. Lost in the unknowns with my soul ripped to shreds. The seventeen-year-old boy they left behind is so fucking desperate for love and affection while the twenty-three-year-old me is jaded and refuses to let Asher in to hurt me again. I hate him, but a part of me still loves him and is ecstatic he’s here.
A door opening inside has me turning toward the room.
Asher is standing in the doorway to the deck freshly showered, hands shoved in his shorts pockets with no shirt on as he tries to read me. He probably can. I never was any good at keeping my thoughts from him. Somehow, he always could read me like a damn book while I was always left wondering.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, moving to the chair situated across from me.
“Fine,” I mumble around a bite of mango.
“Feel any better?” He shoves a huge spoonful of egg into his mouth and locks his eyes on me. It’s hard not to watch his throat work. The bobbing of his Adam’s apple and the muscles of his neck flexing as he swallows.
I shrug and face the water again. “Stop pretending like you care.”
Asher sits back in his chair and pins me with a look. “I do care. I’ve always cared.”
“Right, that’s why you vanished,” I state, holding his stare with my own angry one. “Just gone.” He doesn’t flinch at my pain. “You made the worst night of my life worse. Did you know Marcus was dead when you left, or did you find out later and still not fucking call me?”
Emotion clogs my throat and flutters my heart until the beat is erratic. I shove away from the table and walk away. I can’t do this with him right now. Honestly, I can’t know the answer to my question. Either answer hurts the same.
I find my phone and open my Kindle app to find something to disappear into as I settle into one of the chairs in the room. Asher comes in a few minutes later, and I force myself not to watch him. It’s harder than it should be. I hate him but miss him. There are so many fucking questions I want to ask him, demand him to answer, but I don’t. It will only lead to more hurt, more heartbreak, and I don’t have the energy for any of it.
I settle on a book and flip through the pages, but it’s not holding my attention, not really. More than anything, I want to listen to an audiobook so I can’t hear him, but I didn’t bring my headphones. Is there a store on this island where I can buy some?
The idea of playing a romance story at full volume from my phone almost makes me smile. Would he say anything about it or ignore it? Would the sex scenes read out loudbotherhim?
Once again, I’m flicking through books on my phone and jump when Asher shoves headphones on my head.
“What the fuck?” I jerk around to look at him.
“Listen to your music or book or whatever you do these days,” he says with a lift of one shoulder. “I’m going to see what there is to do around here.”
“I don’t care.”
He shakes his head and leaves the room that smells like his body wash. I scrub a hand down my face and bolt. I need space to breathe where I can’t see him, or feel him, or smell him. Slipping on some shoes and grabbing the full-sized bottle of rum I find in a cabinet, I hustle down the deck to sink my toes in the sand.
There’s a path from the pier toward the water, and it doesn’t take me long to get to the sand. It’s a beautiful little walk, though, and I push the headphones off to hang around my neck. The scent of his shampoo and cologne cling to the pads and tickles my nose with memories of him. The deep green leaves of the palms, the red, orange, and yellow flowers that smell so sweet, and the birds singing high in the trees mixes with the calming rush of the water, and it’s perfect for my ragged heart. I could get lost here and never want to go home.
When my feet hit the sand, I kick off my shoes, open the bottle, and chug. It burns on the way down, and my face scrunches up because of it, but I lift the bottle to my lips again and take another drink. I tuck the bottle under my arm and keep walking along the surf. The water laps at my ankles, and the sand shifts under my feet as I walk. There’s a soft breeze coming off the water that ruffles my hair. I’m sure it’s a disaster after being slept on, but right now it’s whatever.
Another shot of rum goes down, and the warmth starts to spread, dulling the pain from my heart. I don’t know how far I’ve gone, but I want to sit and listen to my book in this beautiful place.
My phone has gone off with text message notifications, but they’re probably Asher, and he can fuck off.
I find a shady spot and sit with my back against a coconut tree trunk. I open the bottle again and take two more mouthfuls. My book is loaded up, and I relax as the gruff voice of the narrator comes through the headphones.
“I need your knot, please.” The narrator moans in my ear, and my dick perks up a little too. My alcohol-addled brain gets lost in the possibility of fucking monsters and shifters. Of being so needed by my partner he can’t stop himself from taking me.
A text message pops up on my phone from one of my semi-regular hookups back home. Phone sex isn’t going to make me feel better right now since all I really want is to be cuddled, but I also want to be acknowledged.
ASTON: Hey, heard you were sent to rehab or whatever. Did you really, or do you want to meet up?
ELLIOT: I got sent to Black Diamond. You believe that shit?
ASTON: Holy fuck! Your parents weren’t fucking around.
A picture pops up of Aston in an LA Chargers jersey and a jockstrap. Jesus. My audiobook has been forgotten even though the main character is still begging to be fucked by his werewolf mate. Blood surges to my dick just looking at Aston’s picture. He’s a muscular, take-charge top who is rarely not a good time. We’ve fucked a few times, but he wants to cuddle after, and as badly as I crave it, I avoid him most of the time. I want to be held but not by him. His body is a lot like Asher’s, and it’s just too close to who I really want.
