Episode 222
CARELESS WHISPER
Sienna
Thanks.
Heather said “thanks” when I told her she was kind of scary.
O…kay.
I wasn’t lying when I said I’m not sure any of us are going to leave this island the same.
I know one thing, though.
I left Leroy and returned to the island for a reason.
I deserve better than a man who cheats when he gets cold feet, a man who slips a ring on my finger and won’t talk to me when he has second thoughts, a man who will ruin the best thing in his life for a one-nighter with a stripper.
I didn’t expect to fall in love with Brett. Alex was the man who first caught my eye, and I caught his as well. We made love—fuck it, we had sex—on the beach and our clothing got washed away.
He didn’t give me much of a look after that. His date with Ariel seemed to change his mind about me.
No biggie. I went on an orgasm binge, looking for…
For what, exactly?
Hell if I know.
When I got the call about Lavonne, I knew I had to see her. Then the kiss with Brett…when he told me to go back, to try with Leroy…
But as soon as I saw him, I knew it was over. I could never return to the man who stole my heart only to crack it into pieces.
Damn. Floating in the pool is supposed to be relaxing. Heather looks relaxed, naked, eyes closed, breathing in and out.
I’m the opposite of relaxed.
I leave the water, dry off with a soft towel, and dress.
Heather opens one eye. “Had enough?”
“Understatement of the year,” I mutter. Then I paste on a smile. “Yeah. I’ll see you later, at the bachelorette party, I guess.”
“Absolutely.” She closes her eyes, her bare breasts bobbing on the blue water.
The mansion looms ahead of me like a threat, so I walk the other way.
Best to gather my thoughts before I find Brett and confront him.
I get that he’s dealing with myriad emotions due to his friend’s reappearance, but he has to talk to me.
I won’t risk another Leroy situation. If Brett is having second thoughts, he needs to tell me to my face.
I amble barefoot across the stone path toward the quiet stretch of beach where Alex and I…
I haven’t been back here since the first night. I keep walking, going back and forth in my head about what I should say to Brett when—if—I find him.
I need answers. And I need them from Brett.
I can handle the truth. I just want to stop spinning, to stop wondering if what he and I have—or possibly had—was real. Or was it simply two lost souls finding comfort in each other?
I shake my head. I thought we’d gotten past the doubt.
The sand is cool beneath my feet. The breeze carries the scent of salt and hibiscus.
I keep walking until two figures emerge in the distance.
At first, I can’t make out who they are. Just the shape of them—shoulders too close, heads angled in a familiar, almost intimate tilt. One of them laughs, soft and low, the sound barely carried on the wind.
My stomach knots.
I slow down. Squint. Try to tell myself it’s nothing.
But then the taller one shifts, and I see him.
Brett.
There’s no mistaking the way he moves. No one else carries himself with such utter confidence.
I open my mouth to call out. But the other man turns his face toward him.
Jake.
Tall, blond, and beautiful. Leaner than Brett, hair a lighter blond, a face that’s almost too pretty to belong to a man.
I gasp.
Brett touches him.
He grazes his fingers along the edge of Jake’s jaw with something almost tender.
Jake doesn’t stop him.
I swallow. If Brett turned his head, he’d see me. Standing. Watching.
He doesn’t.
He’s engrossed in this moment. Completely engrossed.
He leans in.
And he…
He kisses Jake.
Brett kisses Jake.
Not a friendly brush or a drunken dare. Not a joke.
It’s long.
Lingering.
The kind of kiss that changes things. The kind of kiss you don’t give to just anyone.
My chest goes tight.
I step back. The sand shifts under me like it wants to pull me under and end the moment before it really sinks in. But it’s too late. The image is already seared behind my eyes.
I want to scream. Or laugh. Or cry.
But instead, I turn.
And I walk.
I don’t know where I’m going, only that I can’t stay here. I can’t be the woman standing in the shadows while the man she loves kisses someone else.
Not again.
I make it back to the concrete path before my hands start shaking. I press them flat against the wrought iron railing, try to breathe through it.
I don’t cry. I won’t. Not for this. Not for him.
But that kiss…
It replays in my head like a sick reel. Brett’s hand on Jake’s face. Jake leaning into it like he’s home.
I should have seen it.
I did see it.
The way Brett looked at Jake this morning when he and River came through that front door.
The way Brett avoided looking at me.
I laugh sharply, bitterly.
My skin burns even though the air is breezy. I feel exposed, hollowed out, like the kiss was meant for me to find.
Maybe it was.
Maybe this is how I end—slow and silent and right when I thought I was starting to matter again.
I don’t go back to the pool.
I don’t go to my room.
I keep walking, past the outdoor bar, past the empty lounge chairs, until I reach the edge of the island—the gorgeous cliffs that drop straight into the sea. I stand there for a while, staring at the waves crashing below, white foam against black stone.
And I breathe.
In. Out.
I survived Leroy. I’ll survive this, too.
But I won’t forget it.
Not the kiss.
Not the heat in it.
Not the truth of it.
And later, when Brett comes looking for me—because he will—I’ll know exactly what to say.
Nothing.
Because if he wanted to explain, he should have done it before he let Jake pull him in.
Before I saw what I saw.
Before the careless whisper.