Chapter 6
Chapter six
The problem with being alone again after a solid week of company was that Morgan had evolved …
or maybe reverted ... into wanting company again.
When he first came to Parrish Island, he was perfectly happy to be by himself because the thought of being around other people left him so uncomfortable he couldn’t even consider it for more than a few seconds before forcibly finding something else to do.
He was sick of people, sick of pushing, sick of questions and offers and sly asides and even well-meaning messages from Katie.
But with Ty, there hadn’t been any of that.
Ty’s default mode seemed to be silence although he answered most of Morgan’s questions willingly enough, and he hadn’t asked for much in return.
Next to nothing, in fact.
He gave his companionship, his caring, his presence. He gave his space and his time, and all Morgan had to do was accept it all without rocking the boat. Ha.
It was almost enough to make Morgan second-guess his reaction at the end, but then he remembered how frantic he had felt when Ty left, and he didn’t know where to find him.
It would have been bad enough if he’d taken the boat, but to vanish without a trace and leave Morgan with nothing to do but wonder if he was okay, if he’d slipped into the water, if he’d been hurt—
No. Morgan wasn’t crazy, and he wasn’t overreacting.
He needed a certain level of honesty from the people he let in and called his friends, now more than ever after what he’d gone through with Bentley.
And Ty had given him nothing on that front, so leaving was for the best. It was fine. He’d get used to solitude again soon.
Except for the fact that he wasn’t actually alone all the time. Ty kept coming by every morning to drop off a fish in the cooler in front of the lighthouse, only now he did it when it was late enough in the morning for Morgan to be awake.
The first time he stopped by, Morgan wondered if he wasn’t hearing things, or if an animal wasn’t messing around outside.
He’d pulled himself out of bed, wincing at the chill on his bare chest—shirts were still tough to put on by himself, and he ran hot during the night anyway—and walked down to the front door in time to see Ty back down by the dock, getting into his boat.
They stared at each other in silence for a moment before Ty raised a hand in an awkward wave, then pushed off into the water and left.
Just like that. No belated apology, no question about how he felt, or how he was settling in, just—gone.
Bullshit. Morgan ignored the pang in his heart, but he wasn’t able to ignore the fish in the cooler. It was wrapped in butcher paper and gutted, skinned, and filleted. He cooked some up for breakfast, and it was delicious.
Damn it.
Still, Morgan wasn’t going to be cozened so easily.
He ignored the comings and goings in the morning after that, didn’t wait with bated breath to time the duration between the sound of the boat arriving and the sound of its motor revving up again to leave.
He just went about his business, which was depressingly dull since he still wasn’t checking emails or getting online.
He took exactly one call from his mother and immediately regretted it.
“My poor baby,” she cooed over the line. “You need to get out of that nasty place. Why don’t we meet in Portland? Or Seattle! There’s a beautiful spa in Seattle that David and I would love to try, and I think it would be just the thing to make you feel better.”
Morgan frowned in confusion. “Who’s David?”
“My boyfriend, honey. You know, the one who owns the sports betting app?”
“I thought you were dating a realtor.”
She laughed, light and tinkly and nothing like the belly laughs he remembered from her when he was a child.
“Oh no, Kevin and I broke up weeks ago! You’d know these things if you bothered to pick up the phone more often, honey.
No, David is a very nice man, he’s got a house in St. Paul and a beautiful place by Lake Superior, and he can’t wait to talk to you about his app.
It’s doing really well, and we think with the right investment it could be poised to take over a significant share of the marketplace. ”
Yep, there it was. Morgan really felt the love. He made his excuses, ended the call, and went back to trying to rehab his shoulder.
That part was challenging. The joint honestly felt pretty solid right now, but the muscles all around it were unnaturally tense, making his neck stiff and giving him back pain in addition to the sore shoulder.
The concussion symptoms were gone, thank God, but he was still getting headaches, thanks to his dumb neck.
A week after getting back to the lighthouse and with his range of motion no better than when he’d first arrived, he gave in and called the doctor he’d picked to be his new GP.
Dr. Simpson was older, no-nonsense, verging on being a jackass, and most importantly, willing to do visits online.
Telemedicine, at least, was something Morgan was used to after all the work he’d done with his business.
“You should have contacted me earlier,” he was scolded, and yeah, that was fair. “I’d like to check you out in person before I make a recommendation, but I’m thinking you’ve got some physical therapy in your future.”
“I figured as much.” Morgan nodded. “When can you see me?”
“We can fit you in tomorrow, I think—eleven okay?”
“Sure. It won’t take long to get in with the boat, and I can walk from the dock—”
“Wait.” His doctor held up a hand. “Nope.”
Morgan frowned. “What?”
“You’re not piloting yourself in, not as things stand right now. It wouldn’t be safe.”
“Well, you don’t do house calls,” Morgan snarked, “so—”
“Get Ty to handle the boat.”
Wait a second. “You know Ty?”
His doctor laughed. “Everybody in town knows Ty. Why else wouldn’t we be worried sick about some city boy roughing it on the island? We know he’s not going to let you get yourself killed, at least.”
It had been a close call, though. “I’m not sure that’s going to work,” Morgan extemporized. “Ty is—he likes—he prefers to be alone.”
“Uh-huh.” His doctor’s eyes narrowed a bit. “You know, it looks like you’re wearing one of his sweaters.”
Oh shit. So he was. Morgan hadn’t even realized he’d run off with it.
The wool was as soft as flannel, had none of the itch he associated with the fabric, and it was nice and stretchy and the easiest non-button-down he had to wear, which he needed lately since all of his were in desperate need of a wash.
Yet another thing to do when he got to town.
“He’ll help,” his doctor decreed. “You ask, and he’ll help. See you tomorrow at eleven, Mr. Miller.”
Fine. Fuck, fine. So Morgan had to talk to Ty, fine.
He would do that. He would get up early enough to meet him tomorrow and ask him to get him to town and back.
Once, maybe twice. That would be enough to make Ty stop feeling so guilty that he kept feeding him, and soon enough, Morgan would be able to pilot the boat on his own. It was a plan.
He puttered around all evening, restless and on edge, unable to sit down for more than a minute before he had to be upright again.
If only Parrish Island came with some hiking trails …
Morgan was starting to go out of his mind from pent-up energy, which translated to even more tension.
He didn’t get to bed until midnight and didn’t fall asleep until two, and when his alarm woke him up at seven in the morning, there was a pain shooting from his shoulder up the right side of his neck that had him gritting his teeth in agony.
He rubbed as best he could with his free hand, then groaned as he sat up in bed. It hurt so much he felt nauseous, and if Morgan hadn’t had to drag himself downstairs to wait for Ty, he would have rolled over and forgotten about trying to get up at all.
I hate this. Tears sprang up in his eyes, too hot, unwanted and unwelcome. Fuck, I hate it here.
He was alone and in pain, and the only person who could help him was someone he’d managed to ruin things with just as they were getting good, and his neck hurt so much that he was getting a migraine.
He missed his bed, the big California king bed with the best mattress money could buy.
He missed food, fresh greens and steaks and even the tacos he used to buy from the food truck down the street from their office building.
He missed shooting the shit with his friends late at night, texting each other pictures and stupid memes and hearing about their days.
He missed Bentley. Not Bentley the liar who’d sold their company out from under him, but the man who’d rubbed Morgan’s shoulders when he was tense and made him the perfect cup of coffee.
The man who let Morgan kiss him awake even when he had morning breath and who always smiled when Morgan gave him a gift even if it was just a flower.
He missed the man he’d trusted … and he missed Ty, the man he’d been so close to trusting.
Morgan bit his lower lip hard enough to bleed as he stifled the sounds that tried to emerge from his throat. No. He wasn’t going to sit here and cry about it. He was going to get up and get dressed and get shit done today, and then he’d see about putting his life back together.
Getting ready was an exercise in masochism; even brushing your teeth is painful when your neck refuses to bend and pulling on clothes was harder than ever.
He went with his last clean button-up because he hadn’t been able to do laundry in days, then stuck his wallet in his pocket and his feet in his boots and went to sit on the front stoop.
Morgan leaned back against the door and closed his eyes against the glare of the sunshine on the water.
It was a pretty morning. Too bad he didn’t feel up to appreciating it.