Chapter 31
Thirty-One
CALLUM
I t seems we are both putting distance between us.
Evie’s been holed up in the bedroom, working on the last pages of her novel, I assume.
She rarely talks about it lately. And I don’t know the first thing about writing fiction to even ask.
With the clipboard in one hand, I hold the old-school weather station’s slatted door open.
I scan the gauges and take down the recordings.
The summer sun, high in the sky, sears into my skin.
Wiping the sweat from my brow, I return my cap, pulling it down. The button-down work shirt I picked this morning sticks to my back, damp from only the smallest task. The days are getting hotter by the second. Another humid coastal summer to mark another year.
Gravel crunches behind me. I glance over my shoulder, hoping it’s her. Maybe she decided the distance is too much.
I have, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to make it harder for her to leave. I force my focus back to the contents of the old-school instruments. One glance at the sky tells me storms are on their way. Like clockwork when the air heats up. Summer on Fire Island swings between heaven and hell.
Sometimes without warning.
Always settling in for days over my tiny slice of peace and quiet.
“Cal?”
I close my eyes and pretend that one syllable from her lips doesn’t do the things it does to me. Sliding the clipboard into the side of the weather station, I shut the door and latch it.
“Yeah?”
When I turn to face her, she’s hugging her arms around herself with flushed cheeks and her hair piled onto the top of her head.
She steps forward. The tank top and tiny shorts she wears highlight her perfect curves.
I shutter the thoughts wanting to bloom at the sliver of skin showing around her elegant waist. She drops her gaze to the ground and shifts on her feet, and I set my shoulders back and cross my arms, imitating her position.
“Did you need something?” I ask.
“I—ah, is it okay if you take me to the hut, one last time? I have a building in my book, same kind of build... and I wanted to make sure I have the details right. If that’s okay?”
I wasn’t expecting that.
“Like for a couple of hours, or?”
“An hour should do it. I can go by myself if you’re busy, but I thought I should ask first.”
Nothing about this is okay.
Evie feeling the need to ask my fucking permission to do things. Wrapping things up... to leave.
Fuck me.
“You want company? In case the weather rolls in?” I ask, not able to let this go. The feeling she’s slipping away. Of course she is. It’s what I asked her to do.
“Oh sure, if you’re not busy.”
“Give me thirty. I’ll just finish the day’s inspections.”
She rocks on her heels, eyes looking anywhere but at me. “Great. I’ll grab my stuff.”
I force a smile.
It’s incredible how fast we went from full throttle, heart in and soul deep, to this awkward shuffle four feet apart.
If anything was ever a shitty deal, a bad hand of fate, the universe screwing a man over, this is it.
I wander to the dock, running an eye over the boat, double-checking it’s full of fuel, the life jackets are functional and stored properly. Like it ever fucking changes.
Running a hand over the two life preservers secured at the stern, I find nothing of note. Still in good condition. Unlike this heart of mine...
One last trip to the hut is going to be a tough gig. I turn the key to ALT and check the radio, reporting the weather to the watch house before shutting it down. Firefly’s served this island and the mariners of the waters to the east for years. She’s earned her keep, that’s for sure.
I make it back to the house to change into my boots and grab up a water bottle and the handheld radio, just in case.
Evie bounds down the stairs, her gait slowing when she sees me.
It’s like just being in a room with me pulls the oxygen from her. I don’t know how to do this awkward bullshit. “Ready?”
“Yep, need to grab my phone. Is it okay if I take pictures?”
“Sure thing.”
She offers a meek smile and gathers her things. We secure the lighthouse before leaving for the forest tree line. When we breach the cooler, shaded space, I can’t take it any longer. “This can’t be how we leave things.”
She doesn’t respond, pushing through the underbrush.
I stalk at her back, every step ratcheting up the tension between us. The fire in my core flares to life.
“Hey.” The word snaps out much harsher than I intend it to.
She stops, so still. Looking ahead. Not turning back.
“Evie, look at me.”
She doesn’t move.
I round her position and close in until we are so close our breath mingles. “What is this?”
“It’s what it has to be,” she utters.
“Bullshit. Stop with the meek people-pleasing crap.”
Her brows draw down and those deep browns lace with fire.
There she is.
“I’m not with anything. This is me leaving you, like you asked me to.”
“One last trip to the hut? Do you actually even need photos of some busted old shack, or is this you procrastinating? We both know you’re great at that.”
The slap that connects with my cheek burns.
Her chin wobbles.
Struggling to hold back a sob, she spins on her heels and all but sprints through the trees.
Christ, I’m the world’s biggest asshole.
This is hurting us both. We both knew this was going to end with our hearts in tatters. Now I’m rubbing it in her face.
All she wanted was to spend a few more hours with me.
My gut churns as I take off in her direction. It doesn’t take long to find her standing at the edge of the waterhole we never got to swim in. We never made that particular memory, even though I promised her we would. If anyone is breaking promises, it’s me.
“Evie, I’m sorry. Baby girl, I was outta line.”
When she finally looks at me, tears streak her face.
Fuck.
She stills her wobbling mouth with the flattest smile I’ve ever seen on her pretty face. I step closer. Not holding her when she’s hurting is tearing me to shreds. “Come here.”
She shakes her head, and I move a little closer.
“Now, baby girl.”
I fold her into my arms and drop my face into her neck. “I wish things were different. I wish we...” The breathy words fade.
Sucking in a ragged breath, she pushes from my arms. “This is how things have to be. I have to go home. You need to stay here, safe on your island. It has to be this way.” She forces a smile.
I know this.
I made her promise to do just that.
Go home.
Leave me.
Safe? From what?
The last thing I want is for her to leave. I want to beg her to stay. For the first time in my life, being alone is terrifying. It’s something I can no longer comprehend.
The radio in my back pocket squawks. The static is inaudible.
We both pause.
When nothing comes after, I turn her toward the south. “Let’s get to the hut before the weather finds us.”
We make the hut in good time, and I have no doubt the need to ignore each other and go about the business of making the trip as quick as possible spurs Evie forward.
A woman on a mission, she paces in front of the old rustic shack, taking in the warped front door, the knives moving on their hooks in the ocean breeze finding its way through the trees to the little secluded place.
Talking to herself, she touches the opaque glass windows at the front. Removing the knives from the hooks, she disappears inside, mumbling something about aesthetics. She comes back out and stands by my side, snapping images.
Now I realize this place that’s served as my sanctuary, my last piece of my father, I have handed over to her without a second thought.
I know she isn’t hurting it. She’s not tearing it down.
But I let her in so easily. Never before has a woman—or anyone, for that matter—had access to the fishing hut.
I think Em has been here a total of twice. With me both times, and only for a short stop on the way to the south end of the island where we hunt through the craggy treasure-filled rocks.
“...should be enough.” Evie purses her lips, returning her phone to her back pocket, her journal tucked in one arm.
“Huh?” I startle, remembering what we were doing.
“I’m done here.”
More painful words have never been spoken. I nod, not bothering to hide the regret eating at me now.
“Sure, we should head back before the weather folds in.” I make for north, not checking if she follows. Picking my way through the soft undergrowth, I sink back into my weighty thoughts.
Torture is being trapped on an island with the one woman you can’t—no, shouldn’t—have.
A soft hand lands on my shoulder. “Wait up, will you?”
I slow, but not by much.
I can’t.
I thought I could do this.
Let her go.
But I feel each chip of my heart as it cracks and falls away. Each more painful than the last.
“Callum, slow down!”
Harried footsteps rush behind me. Short pants snap through the air around us as the debris under our feet crunches.
“Gotta head back.”
I glance at the sky through the small gap the canopy overhead affords. The sky, once dotted with fluffy white clouds, has turned. It must be around three by now. We didn’t take that long, surely. I track the bright sunlight poking through the leafy ceiling. Sure enough, it’s descending to the west.
Fuck.
“We have to get home,” I call back to Evie.
I have paperwork to sort out for a meeting in Rockland tomorrow, where they will decide my fate.
Well, the lighthouse’s fate. The publishing house money from Evie’s stay has boosted the accounts, but we are still short.
A bunch of stuffy old farts will decide whether I keep my house. No, my home.
Home.
A novel concept.
My home. No longer hers.
God, misery’s really stuck her talons in deep. And so soon.
We finally break through the tree line at the north end, and I stalk across the grassy area, hell bent on getting inside, up to the lantern room before I do something I’ll regret.
Something she doesn’t deserve.
I take the internal stairs two at a time. Smashing a hand to the door of the top room, I stumble inside and round the oversized light, dropping to my seat at its base, hands crawling through my hair as my palms press into my face.
I let loose a raw groan. “Fuck!”
When nobody enters my coveted space, I lie on the floor, flat on my back, staring at nothing.
A million thoughts plunder my mind. None make any of this easier.
None offer a solution to the heartbreak I know is coming.
The telltale rumble of it is rushing toward me.
The vibrations of the freight train aimed right at my heart reverberate through my body. Inch by painful fucking inch.
The house is quiet when I finally sit up.
The stars pop in the lavender sky to the east.
The lamp whirs to life, reminding me of its own impending doom, if the Restoration Society gets its way. I need to get the paperwork in order.
Dammit.
Running both hands through my hair, I haul in a fortifying breath. It’s our last night here. Together.
I should be civil.
I should leave things on a good note.
Make the last memory she has here something special.
I should . . .
I climb back down the spiral stairs and pass the bedroom. Evie’s sitting on the bed, looking out the window, her packed suitcase by her side.
Hell.
I leave her to her thoughts and make a start on dinner. Last one. Gotta make sure it’s good.
Tugging the refrigerator open, I lean down. A tray of her tomatoes sits on the top shelf. Some shredded chicken left over from yesterday. I pull them out and hunt for pasta in the pantry.
Twenty minutes later, I have the makings of a chicken and tomato pasta topped with basil, fresh from the garden, that smells divine.
I set the food on the table. Gathering up cutlery and the old bottle of red wine, I add it to our last meal.
God, that’s morbid.
Fuck me, Cal.
Satisfied with the table I’ve laid out for her, I call Evie down.
A moment later, beautiful, red-rimmed brown eyes meet mine, and I’m rooted to the spot.
You’re breaking my heart, mo ghràdh.