Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
CALLUM
N othing burns like getting a taste of something you’ve hungered for just for it to be so obviously not yours to keep.
Moonlight streaks through the house window, its soft beams illuminating the gorgeous dark locks spread out on the pillow beside me.
On my side of this old bed, Evie lies, sound asleep.
Figures. After that many orgasms, she oughta sleep for a week. Once wasn’t enough. We recovered. Then we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
We showered again.
She climbed me like a tree.
At least, those were her words for it.
I tamp down a chuckle at the sweet little memory.
Already, it’s a memory. That grounds me like nothing else.
Because all this woman will ever be to me is a handful of memories that will sustain me for the rest of my days.
It’s all she can ever be. I swallow down that indignant thought and roll out of the bed.
Padding down the staircase, I head for the kitchen.
I take out a mug and fill it with water.
Em’s coming out tomorrow. Or today, I guess. The last of the boat parts arrived this week. Might make a trip to the mainland. I’m sure Evie will want to see civilization. Maybe Iris could take her shopping. Me, I’ll be hanging by the docks. I’d rather avoid town if I can.
I chug the water and place the mug in the sink.
Not wanting to wake the sweet woman in my bed, I drop onto the sofa, shoving my head into my hands.
Regret eats at me the second I have a moment to mull over the last day or so.
So much for keeping my distance. So much for keeping my hands off her.
A piece of paper under the table catches my eye.
I move to the table, squat down, and pick it up.
A letter.
Something blue and dusty covers the smudged writing. Most of it is unreadable. As if it got wet.
The powdery residue is like pollen, or maybe?—
Pieces of blue butterfly littering the floor shine in the moon’s disappearing rays.
I sweep up a small piece and rub the blue-silver dust between my fingers.
What the hell? Blue belongs to those big, beautiful monarchs. They’re not on this island. I try to make out the words that aren’t smudged. But not much makes sense. The water damage means I can’t put the meaning together. Is this Evie’s?
I drop it to the table and make a mental note to ask her about it when she wakes up.
Falling with weary limbs to the sofa, I rest my head back. Never mind Evie being too young for me; I’m too old for her. Exhaling, I turn over the last few weeks in my head, the parts I had no control over. The parts I did, but I gave in anyway. I should go back to bed...
As the drowsy pull of sleep tugs at the edges of my concentration, I lay along the sofa and drag the throw blanket over myself haphazardly.
Something soft presses against my lips. Everything is dark. The bed dips. The glorious aroma of coffee winds its way into my senses, and I blink my eyes open. Happiness radiates from brown eyes framed by mussed hair. The coffee mug in her hand steams. She sits on the sofa at my hip.
Sofa, not bed.
Fuck, I fell asleep here.
“Morning, sleepyhead.” She offers the mug, her sweet smile the backdrop to her gesture. “Emmett’s outside.”
I sit up with a groan. This is no place for a worn-out old man to rest. I rub my neck with one hand, taking the coffee from her with the other. “He been here long?” I sip the scalding coffee, and when I manage a swallow I say, “Thanks.”
“About twenty minutes, but he was at the boat for a bit.”
“Probably fixed the damn thing already.”
“Probably. You need a moment to”—she waves a hand, gesturing to my general head and neck area—“make it look like you didn’t spend all night?—”
I grab her neck and drag her mouth to mine. With a chaste kiss, I put space between us. “Nope.”
“Okay then. I have words to write. Twelve weeks left until deadline. You be here for lunch later?”
Twelve weeks until she is gone from my life.
“Sure,” I mutter. “Em can eat with us.”
“Sounds great.”
I watch the sway of her hips with a whole new appreciation this morning. And the crashing weight of a man with an expiry date lands hard.
What does anyone with limited time do? They make the most of it.
As those long legs disappear up the spiral metal stairs, I make a promise to myself to make each day count. From this one on.
Wrapping the blanket around my waist, I follow her upstairs a moment later. I make a beeline for the bathroom and pull on fresh clothes. Cleaning up, I run a hand through my hair and brush my teeth before making it out of the bathroom.
Evie’s fingers fly over the keyboard, something upbeat floating from her headphones, words pouring out onto the white screen like string confetti.
I wander up behind her and dot a kiss to the crown of her head.
Her hands briefly curl around my wrist as I cup her head with my hands.
But she returns to her focus a second later.
My cue to leave.
I find Em in the kitchen when I peel off the last stair. Making himself at home, he stirs his coffee. Probably his fourth for the morning, knowing him. “Finally. Need some extra rest this morning, sleeping beauty?” Em winks at me.
Asshole .
He absolutely figured out why I’m in the house this morning and not in the hut.
“Lucky you’ll never need to worry about being kept up all night, bud.”
His face flattens under a lingering stare.
Fuck. Now I’m the asshole.
“I did?—”
He holds up a hand. “Forget it. Please. My nonexistent love life is not what I came all the way out here for.”
“Sure. How’s the boat?”
“Fixed. Good as new.”
I scoff out a laugh. “The fuck it is.”
“See for yourself. You haven’t been off this rock for weeks. Not that I could blame you.” He glances at the stairs, absolutely implying Evie is the reason I haven’t seen the mainland in almost a month.
I rip the fridge open like it’s personally offended me and hunt for something that tastes half-decent cold.
I settle on cold chicken and roast veggies from before we left.
On second thought, maybe only the veggies.
Dumping the tinfoil-wrapped parcel onto the counter, I pry a cold root veggie from the mix.
It tastes like it sounds. Soggy and cold.
But it beats continuing this conversation.
No way in hell am I getting into why or why not Evie and me are a good idea with Mr. Positivity here. He only ever sees the pros. Cons don’t exist in this golden retriever’s world. Poor sap. Lucky Iris pulls his head out of the clouds on a regular basis. We all need a reality check every so often.
Mine just happened to come crashing in in the wee hours of this morning.
A little too late.
Bitter about the whole situation, I rip another frigid carrot in half with my teeth.
“You have no idea how glad I am to not be a vegetable in your garden right now. What’s got you surly as a bear with a sore head?” Em says. Now concern narrows his eyes. He’s been my best friend for decades. There’s no hiding anything from him.
I’ll be damned if I’m gonna pour my heart out. Be sticking to hard truths.
“Show me the boat, and then we can talk.”
As if I’m doing him a favor. God, this shit has me all fucked up. Emmett simply obliges, walking out the front door and sliding his cap on. We walk in silence to the dock, and his gaze swings to me every few steps.
“What?” I grunt out. I can’t stop myself, and apparently, it’s written all over my goddamn face.
“You know, you keep bottling this shit up, its gonna kill you, man. Almost did before...” His words fade out as we reach the boats.
It almost did. After Ava.
Out here on the island by myself, I thought about ending it all more than once. Every time. And every single damn time, I couldn’t do that to my little sister. I’m the only family she has left.
I have no doubt this time will drag me under the roiling current like it did last time.
This time, however, unlike the whirlwind of Ava’s adoration that fueled my last significant relationship, my feelings grow from somewhere much deeper.
From a selfless place. The man I am this time around understands with a profound soundness the gravity of spending my days without Evie. By choice.
“Jesus, Cal, you look like someone died.”
I swallow, grinding my jaw shut.
“You can’t work it out?” Pain is in his eyes, and I can’t tell if it’s a mirror of what is surely lacing mine or solely empathy.
“Nothing to work out, Em.”
He rubs a hand behind his neck and huffs a breath as he drops his focus to the wooden jetty. “You don’t have to stay here, if you want to go somewhere else.”
“I’m not doing that to my sister. She’d have no one left. Besides, that’s not?—”
“Irry would have me. Not like I’m ever leaving.”
I stare at him.
He’s always protected her like a brother. I guess he’s right. Emmett will always be around to make sure she’s okay. But I can’t. Fire Island is who I am.
That’s about right. I’m a fucking island.
Figures .
“Well, if you change your mind...” Emmett steps onto Firefly. The engine turns over a beat later. She purrs like she never missed a day. “You can leave. Just saying.”
I board the boat and check the gauges. Everything looks good. No pungent electrical fire smell, so that’s a bonus. “You staying for lunch? I could use a hand in the old shed.”
Emmett looks up from his inspection. “You sure?”
“Yeah, it’s time I threw half that old crap out.”
“Righto, I can load up a fair bit on the big boat and toss it into the marina dumpster.”
“Thanks.”
An hour and a test run out on the open water later, I’m satisfied the old girl is fit as a fiddle. We head back to the house for a bite of lunch. The lamp is overdue for a clean, and I’m sure I could use the solace of the lantern room. Em sits at the table as Evie comes down the stairs.
“How’s the boat?” she says, dropping into the chair by Emmett.
He pulls off his cap and grips it between his hands. “Running good. You’d be ready for a trip to the mainland by now?”
“I guess.” She couldn’t look less excited about getting off the island if she tried. Something like hope tumbles around my gut, sparking against the cast-iron walls I’ve built over the years. Her eyes connect with mine as I assemble the sandwiches and she asks, “Need a hand in the garden later?”
“If you have time. How’s the words coming along?”
“Two thousand for this morning. So I’m all yours.”
Her face changes as her own words register, and she clamps that bottom lip between her teeth.
I plate up the food and carry it to the table.
Emmett takes a plate from my hand and slides it to Evie.
She says a quiet thank you before taking a tentative bite.
Those small moments where she shrinks into herself have become fewer.
Watching her uncertainty around Emmett takes me back to those early weeks.
“Well,” Em starts, swallowing before he continues. “If you two have plans, I’ll make myself scarce.”
“No, you don’t have to—” Evie starts.
“No, bud—” I say at the same time.
The easy connection Evie and I had last night and this morning is strained.
Emmett stands. “I really should be getting back. Errol will have my balls for wasting half a day already.”
I roll my eyes. “Fuck Errol.”
Em laughs. “Only you can get away with saying that, McCreary.”
Only because Errol’s respect for me is nonexistent. Em plucks up his cap and slides it onto his head. It matches his Coast Guard uniform. Less the grease from his side hustle of marine mechanic, that is.
“Bye, Emmett,” Evie pipes up with a small wave.
“See you round, Miss Evie.” His gaze alternates between us for a moment before it lingers on me and he’s out the door.
I finish my food as Evie takes small bites of hers. Her attention is stuck on the front door.
Good. She should be thinking about leaving.
Sweeping the crumbs on my plate to one side and contemplating life, I change my mind. “I have to head up to the lantern room for a bit. We can get out to the garden in a couple of hours.”
“Okay. Can I help with the lamp?” Hopeful browns glide to me.
“I got it. You do your research or whatever you need to.”
She huffs a small breath, and her cheeks turn pink. “Yeah, I still have to get to that.”
I raise an eyebrow, but she doesn’t elaborate.
I take her plate and my own, placing them by the sink before heading up the stairs.
Glancing into the bedroom as I pad by, I take the treads two at a time to the lantern room.
As clean as the bright space is, today it feels dirty.
Most likely it’s all in my head. I tug open the small door to the cleaning and polishing gear and get to work.
I make a start on the louvered outer glass first.
When that shines, letting the midday sun’s rays pierce my vision, I turn back and select the polishing cloth for the Fresnel itself.
The huge light catches dust and tiny particles in its awkward angles.
I spend extra time and care on the heart of my home.
My entire reason for being here. Without this old lamp, this overgrown light bulb, my purpose here is null and void.
With the navigational technology on modern boats, lighthouses are an outdated coastal feature. Maybe I am, too. This whole Evie situation has me all up in my head. The woe-is-me is riding my ass hard.
Snap the fuck out of it.
My life will simply return to what it was before her.
A man and his island.
Nothing more, nothing less.