Someone Else's Ocean
Page 79
“Your parents left?”
“Yeah. Feel free to move about the cabin.” The smile I offered was weak. “Sorry about that impromptu visit. They won’t be back.”
Ian winced. “That bad?”
“It always was.”
He made his way on the porch and sat on the hammock.
Unexpected anger surfaced. “I don’t need you to be here to tell me it’s okay.”
“Then I won’t tell you it’s okay.”
“How’s this? I don’t want you here. And you didn’t want to be here, remember?”
Ian flinched, pulling himself up from the hammock. He nodded, sliding his hands in his shorts before moving toward his house.
“Ian?”
He stared at the sand but stopped walking.
“You need to be out by Thursday. You can take the room.”
“I can get a hotel.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’ve invited some friends to the island.”
I wiped a tear from my eyes. “It’s fine, I have the space.”
“Koti…”
“It’s fine.”
He nodded before he disappeared down the beach.
IT WAS FUN WHILE IT lasted, right?
Fuck me. I was an unbelievable asshole. She’d been there to hold my hand and I’d practically burned hers when she needed mine. That sort of guilt was exactly what I’d been trying to avoid. For once in my life, I didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else’s well-being and I should have been satisfied she’d let me off the hook. But that wasn’t what bothered me. What bothered me was that I wanted to be there for her. I wanted to sit next to her and hold her hand. I wanted to kiss her worries quiet and pull her back into our bubble. Stomping down the sand with thoughts of her had me rattling with disquiet and threatened the peace I’d only just found. I glanced at her house in the distance with no idea what state she was in. If the devastation on her face and the quiet tears she was trying to hide were any indication, she was in a world of hurt.
“You’re a son of a bitch, Ian Kemp,” I muttered as my phone buzzed in my pocket. Reluctantly I answered. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hello, darling. How are you?”
“Good, I’m good.”
“I’m calling because I’m afraid we’re going to have to cancel our trip to see you. Your father has developed a case of the shingles. Terrible. He’s hurting something awful.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
“I am too. I was looking so forward to seeing you. Maybe we can meet you and Ella next time you come home?”
“Sounds good. Give my best to dad.”
“Not so fast, son. Tell me how you are really.”
“I’m fine.”