Chapter 9
Nine
EVIE
K illing time has never been so freeing.
No idea why I blurted out ‘my husband died’ to Callum.
I rarely talk about Joshua, unless it’s with my family or Allie.
And even then, I try to keep my emotions in check.
But something about being on this boat in the middle of the wide blue ocean has cracked my heart open.
It’s a relief to finally say it and not need to relive the entire experience.
Callum listened; he didn’t push. Didn’t ask for details.
It’s almost as if he’s been there and understands how much it hurts to have to keep repeating the worst moment of your life.
That right there is another chink in my armor of staying indifferent to the man who’s given me his home, fed me, taxied me back and forth, and kept me warm with a constant stream of firewood in the last few colder days.
I force the memory of him naked in my bed from my mind.
The sun is starting to set when we sit on the deck, backs against the port side of the gunwale.
This old tuna trawler is simple, but it’s sturdy.
Engine troubles aside, it’s been reliable over the last few months.
As we wait, we exchange childhood stories and details about our families.
I now know how important Iris is to him.
His parents are no longer here, but it sounds like they had a great relationship before.
Similar to me and mine, I guess.
Although my parents are still alive. Living their best life in the city.
I also learned he is almost eighteen years older than me, has had one serious relationship, and that he and Emmett have been friends since high school.
My back aches and I stretch, arms over my head.
I turn on my seat and lay on the deck. The pain in my lower spine fades instantly.
I moan as the release sinks into my muscles.
Callum stares straight ahead, his throat working.
Eventually his gaze lowers to wander over my outstretched body. His throat bobs again, and I train my attention to the pink and orange sky. It’s brilliant. “You should see this, Callum. It’s incredible.”
I’m sure he’s seen it many times before. The wonder is probably lost on him. But when he groans and moves beside me, laying down, I smile.
“Which color do you like best, the pink that keeps getting lighter, or the orange that is set on turning gold?” he asks.
“Can I say both?”
“You can make whatever choice you want.”
I chuckle and glance at him. “Both. I choose both.”
“Rebel.”
His face breaks into a grin, the blue of his eyes lighting up.
It takes everything I have to stop myself from letting my fingers wander to his jaw, over the short-kept beard, his mustache.
What would his lips feel like under my fingertips?
This softness about him is new. And I wonder if opening up about my life is the reason.
I turn onto my side to face him, sliding my hands under my head.
I take him in for the next moment. Then the one after that.
His eyes don’t move from the colorful sky, but his hands drop to his sides, mere inches from me. I swear his nostrils flare as he says, “Em should be here any second.”
Like some freak telepathic event, the drone of another engine fades into range. The sinking feeling of disappointment is heavy in my gut. On an inhale that’s sharper than the last, I clear my head by slamming my eyes shut, reminding myself of my reality.
I’m here to work. To get the slip on my stalker.
The torment-free weeks have been bliss. The fact that I’m literally isolated from the rest of the world has let me relax for the first time in I don’t know how long. No more looking over my shoulder. Making sure I’m always with someone else, mostly Allie.
Callum pushes to his feet, and I make my way up to mine in twice the time.
A huge Coast Guard vessel adorned with an abundance of equipment of all sorts peters to a low growl as it closes in on us.
The man behind the wheel sends her sideways before tossing a rope over.
One that Callum catches and ties off onto a double-ended lug-type thing.
The two boats bob on the water, now side by side.
Emmett, I assume—I didn’t pay much attention to him when I first arrived—leaves his boat idling as he boards Firefly.
“Cal.” His arms have Callum in a man hug a second later.
“Hey, bud. She just crapped out.”
The Coast Guard officer slides his beanie from his head with a nod to me. “Miss Eve.”
I chuckle at his formality. “Hi, Emmett.”
“Picked a good day for it, at least.” He nods to the trapdoor in the deck floor, his dark brown eyes narrowing.
“Yeah, right. Had plans today,” Callum grunts.
I suppress the need to roll my eyes at his quick change of mood. From lying on the deck with me, shuttling back and forth stories, to all business and gruff. Not that I don’t enjoy both. It’s the transition that gets me.
“What plans you have?” Emmett shoves him and drops to his knees, flipping the door open.
The stench of the electrical burn is worse, I swear.
“Shit, Cal. You’re lucky you got as far as you did.” Emmett waves a hand over the opening, leaning back a little. “Debris in the heat exchanger. It’s overheated then melted anything within six inches around it. Hell.”
“Dammit.” Callum runs his hands through his hair. It stays messed up as he drops his hands and sinks to his knees by his friend. “Any chance of fixing it now?”
Emmett shakes his head. “Nah, even if I clear out the heat exchanger, your wires are exposed. You’re going to have worse problems if you try to run her like this.”
With a heavy sigh, Callum pushes back to his feet. “Give us a tow back to the island, then?”
“You sure? You’ll both be stuck there till I can get back out to fix it.” Emmett’s stare swings between Callum and me.
“It’s okay. We’ll make do,” I offer. The last thing I’m going to do is be a burden to one more person.
Callum holds my gaze for a beat before nodding.
“Tie her off up front. I’ll take it steady.” Emmett jumps over, back into his boat. He sends her forward. Next thing, he is tossing a rope to Callum, now standing on the bow.
“Sit down and hold on, Evie,” Callum calls as the rope pulls out, wiggling out some of the slack.
He’s back in the cabin before I find a place to sit.
As my butt hits the deck and I lean against the port wall, the slack disappears, and we’re tugged forward in the water with a bustling jerk.
The Coast Guard vessel is bigger than ours.
This old fishing tub against Emmett’s shiny service boat.
Callum glances over his shoulder, as if checking I’m still on board before flipping the radio to another channel.
“Coast Guard One, do you read? Over.”
Static hums back before Emmett says, “Coast Guard to Firefly, copy. Over.”
“How long will the parts take for this old girl, Em? Over.”
“Maybe three weeks. Depends on stock. This is what you get for your lack of mechanical skills.”
Callum scoffs a laugh. “Yeah, right. What else would you be doing today, bud?”
The formal vernacular between the men drops to the wayside.
“For your information, McCreary, I had plans, also.”
“Yeah, with who?”
“Not over the radio, you idiot.”
Chuckling, I turn my face away. For two burly grown men, they are ridiculous.
It’s hilarious. I rock with the boat as we slowly make our way back to Fire Island.
Something familiar blooms in my chest when the lighthouse comes into focus.
Maybe it’s because this place is the first to feel safe after so long.
Or maybe it’s the unfiltered, uncomplicated company I keep out here.
Either way, content is what I am when we slip up beside the dock.
No! No. No. No.
Ugh. I push my laptop away and screech an unflattering sound as I jolt out of the chair so fast it topples backward and hits the floor.
Why can’t I get this?
How is something so simple, something carried out by millions of humans every single day, evading me with such intensity?
I mean, come on! How hard is it to write a freaking sex scene?
Pulling at my hair, I pace the room. Everything I write is either cliché or like porn that your deviant hermit cousin wouldn’t even want to read.
Sweet hell on earth, this is killing me.
I stalk back and forth past the window, and jerk with a start when a concerned Callum flies through the doorway, breathing heavy.
I—
Oh . . .
“What was that damn noise?” he snaps, his gaze tracking to the upturned chair near the desk.
“S-sorry.” I pluck it up and shove it under the desk. His eyes track the full length of my body, assessing for what I assume he thinks is damage. I feel exposed. After hours of trying to write one particular scene, it’s all I can do to not combust where I stand under his heated stare.
“You okay?” he rasps before his Adam’s apple bobs on a swallow.
“Yep,” I say, too fast. “All good here.”
He raises a brow, leaning a little to one side to look at the desk. “Right, well, if you got a minute, I want to show you something.” Shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, his tight T-shirt stretches over his chest. Straining over his broad shoulders. Around bulging biceps...
I huff a wobbly breath. “Sure, what is it?”
“You’ll see.” His face lights up. “Come on, it’s outside.”
He disappears back through the door. After a beat, I suck in a breath and follow.
I find Callum waiting outside the front door.
I swipe up my sun hat from the hook by the door and pat down my shorts before folding the collar up of my blue-toned checked shirt.
I always get burned, and it’s the middle of the day.
Callum’s boots scrunch on the gravel as we make our way toward the greenhouse.
The day is stunning. With that last bitter cold snap gone, it’s all blue skies and soft ocean breeze, the call of birds echoing out from the small island forest. The one place I haven’t ventured into yet—the forest and beyond to the south end. Maybe one day...
Callum stops at the doors to the greenhouse and turns back. “Close your eyes.”
“What? No.”
“Evie,” he hums my name in a deep sound that travels the length of my body.
With a huffy sigh, I relent. “Fine.”
I close my eyes and raise my hand in front of my face. His warm one closes around mine, sending something ethereal through me.
“Don’t worry, I won’t run you face-first into anything hard.” The lilt of his words almost makes me want to crack my eyes open.
With a gentle tug on the hand connected to his, we move forward.
From the warm air that swallows me, I figure we’re inside the greenhouse.
The scent of fresh earth, plant life, and fertilizer turns pungent.
It is dead quiet, apart from our footsteps.
We finally come to a halt, and he drops my hand and manhandles me by the shoulders, turning me to the left.
“Where are we?” I say, eyes still closed.
“At the back of the greenhouse, where the herbs and edible flowers are. Spring has officially sprung, and I wanted to show you this. You can open your eyes.”
My eyes drift open to find bursts of color. All of a sudden, I can smell every herb, smell the scents of the roses, nasturtiums, and other delicate-looking flowers. And they are covered in something yellow, flat... Flitting. Busy as a?—
Buzzing, or something like it, floods every limb.
“Watch this,” Callum says. He steps forward and claps his hands.
Hundreds of lemon-colored butterflies burst from the plants, rising in a cloud of wings.
I stagger backward.
Air leaves my lungs and I choke, trying to catch the next breath. Griping my body tight with both hands, I splutter out a small cry before spinning back and running from the greenhouse like he just let off shrapnel, not elegant insects.
A strangled moan works my throat as I rush to the house, trip up the spiral staircase, and fall into the bedroom.
Knees to my chest, I slide backward until I hit the bed.
What the hell is wrong with me?