17. BLUE
BLUE
One of the saddest things is that I tried so hard to make others happy, trying not to feel worthless because I couldn’t make myself happy.
Annie, Isabella, Gianni… the only people I ever had by my side, the ones I fought to keep close, were all taken from me. I still can’t wrap my head around what kind of karma I deserved for this to happen.
Was Oliver right? Did I deserve to be sad and lonely?
That part of his words didn’t hurt nearly as much as when he said I was just like my mother.
My whole life, I made sure I would never become her, and now, as the years pass, I’m starting to wonder if it’s inevitable.
That one day I’ll become this bitter, selfish version of her.
Once those words were spoken, they carved themselves into my mind, replaying over and over until I couldn’t escape them.
The tale was as old as time. Oliver had made me cry again.
I hated this weak version of myself, the one that had learned how it felt to be held so tightly, as if I’d never be let go. I was always terrified that one day he would loosen his grip.
Now that he had, I didn’t even know how to feel.
It was as if all those years of hate had swallowed me whole, leaving behind this suffocating need for him, for his hands wrapped around me. The hatred was still there, but it was slowly becoming nothing more than empty words instead of something I truly felt.
My hands gripped my knees, trembling as anxiety crept beneath my skin, sending shivers through my body. I knew what came next. I would end up staring into nothingness, gently rocking myself back and forth, trying to calm the storm inside me.
A cold wind brushed across my back, leaving behind a sensation like ghostly hand prints.
I gasped and looked around, but no one was there. Sniffling, I wiped away my tears, trying to push aside the thought that a ghost was lurking nearby. Another gust of icy air swept past, lifting loose strands of my hair.
I turned towards the stairs, certain the breeze had come from that direction, and noticed the stone steps were wet, glistening in the dim light. Whoever had built them had fastened a thin iron railing into the cave wall, just sturdy enough to grip as you climbed.
I stood up, my bare feet slipping as loose pebbles skittered beneath them while I struggled towards the staircase. When I reached the first step, my hand wrapped around the railing, and I slowly began to climb. Another cold gust swept over me, this time urging me further up the stairs.
I swallowed the hard lump lodged in my throat and kept climbing until I reached the top.
There was no door, only a hole in the ground for an easier way down.
I would’ve bet this was how people once reached the island, since the small beach inside the cave was the only place without cliffs and the jagged underwater reef that would tear ships apart.
Planting a hand on the ground, my eyes still stinging with tears and words that refused to leave my throat, I pulled myself up.
In front of me stretched nothing but a meadow scattered with rocks. And behind me, tall cliffs that hid the cave beneath them. Somewhere nearby, I heard the gentle murmur of a rill and slowly headed to the right.
A sharp gust shoved against me, pushing me away from it, as though it didn’t want me going in that direction.
Fresh water would be a good sign, though.
A narrow path disappeared into the wooded part of the island, yet there was no sign of the rill there.
Still, I followed it, my feet carrying me against the warning the wind seemed determined to give.
It had been almost three hours since Oliver left, and with every passing minute, my hope of him coming back sank deeper, along with any hope of ever leaving this place. If I wanted to survive, I had to take fate into my own hands.
Less than a minute later, I found the rill.
I hurried over the rocks that formed a shallow, rounded basin, collecting the water inside. It looked as though someone had shaped this place to be lived in, only to abandon it for reasons I couldn’t understand.
My knees gave way, and I dropped onto the rocks.
One hand steadied me against the stone wall while the other slipped into the water.
It was icy against my skin. Above me, the sun was finally breaking free of the clouds, its warmth creeping across the clearing.
After finishing the small juice Oliver had given me in three desperate gulps, the cold water felt like heaven.
Scooping it into my palms, I splashed it over my cheeks, then my chest and arms. A few drops ran over my lips. I caught them with my tongue and knew instantly it was fresh water.
The thirst clawing at my throat didn’t care about bacteria or whatever else might be hiding in it. All I wanted was something cold to drink and a patch of shade in the woods behind me.
I dipped my hands into the basin again, filled my palms, and brought the water to my mouth. I drank until it slipped down my throat.
Leaning back against the stone, I lifted my eyes to the sky.
I had no idea what time it was. All I knew was that I was supposed to be on a yacht for a week, and instead I was stranded on a secluded island with a man I couldn’t stand. If it ever came down to it, I would gladly push him off a cliff and watch him drown.
I closed my eyes for just a moment, catching my breath after everything that had happened, letting my soul rest from all the tears and all the loss.
My chest felt numb, and my throat still burned from the salt water I had swallowed the night before.
My lungs still carried its sting, as though they hadn’t managed to wash it away.
I had wanted to leave Amalfi so badly, and now that the universe had given me exactly that, I still wasn’t at peace.
Maybe we’re destined to stay in one place until we find ourselves, so that when we finally move somewhere else, we’re capable of being happy.
But at this point, I had forgotten what happiness even felt like.
A scream came through the distance, making me stand upright.
Then came the unmistakable sound of my own name.
“Gabriella.”
I knew it was Oliver. There was no one else on this island.
Still, I stayed where I was, wrapped in my numbness. If he wanted to find me so badly, he could search for me.
“Please, Gabriella,” I heard him call again, his voice much closer this time. “Where are you?”
He was swearing, cursing, shouting until his voice cracked.
I couldn’t help wondering if he’d even care if I died here on this rock.
Would he even blink after everything he’d said to me?
I knew I’d kept it all to myself, but how was I supposed to tell him anything when he was angry with me all the time?
And then there was what he’d said about Gianni being his father’s son.
The thought turned my stomach. It meant my mother had lied to my father, too.
She’d lied for two years while Gianni lived under his roof as his son.
Then she had me, and everyone who knew us always said I was the spitting image of my father. No one ever said that about him.
It made me wonder how he felt. How he knew Father favored me until the day he left. And when he did, Gianni accepted it far easier than I ever could.
Growing up without a father left a scar that never really healed. I searched for him in every face I met, but no one was ever enough. He was everything to me, and the little girl inside me still craved the love he never gave.
I grew up clinging to the fantasy that he might come back one day, but with every year that passed that hope faded.
And now, knowing Gianni had our father beside him all that time without even realizing it, while still hoping that one day ours would come back, broke my heart a little more.
I miss him.
My brother was my person, and it’s been almost a week since he was here with me.
I wiped away the tears that had slipped down my cheeks, exhausted by all of it.
Hurried footsteps came towards me, but I didn’t move an inch.
Oliver was beside me within seconds. His arms wrapped around me as he struggled to catch his breath, looking completely lost. I’d never seen him like this.
His breath brushed the back of my neck.
“Fuck, I thought I lost you.”
I closed my eyes. As much as I’d needed someone to say those words, just once in my life, with genuine fear and concern, I still pressed my palms against his bare chest and pushed him away.
“If you were so concerned about me, you shouldn’t have left in the first place.”
My eyes locked onto his.
One hand rested beside me as he crouched in front of me. His linen shirt was torn apart by the storm, and his hair was slick with salt.
“Don’t give me empty promises,” I whispered, my gaze slipping away for a heartbeat. “And if you’re going to leave again, don’t come back. This island is big enough for us never to see each other again.”
He looked at me, searching my face.
A second later, his palm was against my cheek. His thumb brushed gently beneath my eye, catching the tear before it reached my ear.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Can you forgive me?”
I shook my head, swallowing against the dryness in my mouth.
He held my gaze, one brow lifting in that infuriatingly familiar Oliver Sinclair way. Playboy. Arrogant. Complete douche bag.
“We have to get to the lighthouse,” he said. His other hand joined the first until he was cupping my face. “There’s no one else here. It’s just us, and the lighthouse is the safest place, especially at night.”
“What if I don’t want to go?” I pulled his hands away. “I can stay here.”
“I’ll carry you if I have to.”
His eyes darkened as he rose to his feet, straightening to his full height.
I rolled my eyes. “I’d like to see you try,” I scoffed. “Asshole.”
He only smiled, a grin spreading across his face as one brow arched.
I’d rather die than spend the rest of the day slung over his broad shoulders.
“You stubborn…” he muttered.
Before I could react, he moved to my side. One arm slipped around my waist, lifting me onto my feet, then, in one swift motion, he hoisted me onto his back.
“Okay, okay! I’ll walk,” I shouted, pounding my fist against his shoulder.
He hissed.
The movement tugged at his torn shirt, and for the first time I caught a clear glimpse of his back. Half of it was covered in angry purple bruises.
“Oliver,” I said softly, “you can put me down.”
“You’re barefoot,” he replied. “The path to the lighthouse is rough. It’s better this way. Trust me.”
Trust?
Now he wanted me to trust him?
“It’s uncomfortable.”
He pulled me off his back, lifting me until I settled into his arms.
My hands found their way around his neck, and my eyes drifted over the veins that ran along it, watching them flex with every step before tracing the lines of his strong arms holding me in place.
“Thank you,” I murmured, heat creeping into my cheeks.
I turned my face, hoping to hide the blush, but he’d already noticed. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
I tried so hard not to say anything that might start another fight. It felt as though every time Oliver and I exchanged more than two words, we ended up tearing into each other like a cat and a dog.
Still, I wanted to ask him about Gianni. About what he’d meant when he said I was just like my mother. I wanted to ask why he hated me so much, even though a part of me already suspected the answer had everything to do with her.
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it again.
Every question sat on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t force a single one past my lips.
“I still haven’t forgiven you,” he said. “It’s best for both of us to leave the past alone. At least for now.”
“So we’re just supposed to pretend you haven’t hurt me over and over again?” I let out a hollow laugh. “And be what… friends?”
“We both know we can’t be friends.”
He didn’t look at me once.
“I forgot,” I said with a humorless chuckle. “You can’t be friends with anyone who doesn’t have a dick between their legs, or you’ll end up fucking them.”
He stopped walking and looked at me.
“You are making it very difficult not to throw you off this cliff, Gabriella.”
I pressed my lips together, my brows knitting as I shoved a fist against his rock-hard chest.
“Do it. Maybe I’ll finally get rid of you.”
He laughed.
“I swear I’ll do it.”
“Do it.”
He swung me out from his body, and for one terrifying second I thought he was actually going to let go.
Instead, he pulled me sharply back against him.
“That would be too easy.”
He set me back on my feet.
“I’ll make sure I ruin every single one of your days until you’re begging me to drown you.”
“You know I can do the same to you.” I rose onto my toes, wincing as the sharp rocks bit into my feet. “When you fall asleep, I’ll just smother you with my own ass.”
He lifted a brow. “Wow,” he chuckled. “Gabriella De Luca.” He stepped closer, lowering his face until it hovered just inches from mine. His hand came to my chest, fingers digging into the unbuttoned fabric of my navy-blue shirt. Then he lifted me clean off the ground, my feet dangling in the air.
“Are you saying you want to sit on my face?”
His eyes drifted from mine to my lips.
“No.” I swallowed. “I. Don’t. Want. That.”
“Then don’t tempt me with a good time,” he said, pulling me even closer until his mouth was almost against mine.
I raised my hands and pressed them against his, tapping at his fists until he let go. Slowly, he lowered me back to the ground before taking a step away.
“You can walk,” he said. “The rocks should be fine now.”
The rocks beneath my bare feet were gentler now. No sharp edges bit into my skin. Little patches of grass broke through the gaps between the stones, and clusters of yellow flowers pushed up from pockets of earth.
I focused on them, desperate to think about anything except what had just happened. My whole body trembled, shivers racing up my spine.
It was as if he’d altered the chemistry in my brain, lacing it with poison. The goosebumps that spread across my skin from a single touch were something I’d never experienced before.
I’d never felt this way. I’d never let anyone make me feel this way.
The walls I’d built around myself had never cracked. I’d made sure they stood twice as strong, impossible to break through. Yet somehow, he’d found the smallest fracture and slipped inside uninvited.
Why the fuck did this have to happen?
Why couldn’t my brain remember how badly he’d hurt me between 1992 and 2003? It had been eleven years of hate. So why didn’t I feel it now?