Fisher's Light (Fisher's Light 1)

“Now, computers run it all and no one ever really has a need to come out here unless something breaks. So that means it’s just me or my grandfather who get to walk around inside this beauty and stare out at the ocean, pretending like we’re the only two people in the world. It’s the best at night, when it’s pitch black and it looks like you’re standing on the edge of the world. You feel like if you take one step off the rocks, you’ll just drop down into nothing and disappear forever. Sometimes, disappearing sounds like the best idea in the world.”

I stare out at the endless ocean, wondering why I don’t feel embarrassed that I just said more to Lucy about how I feel than I’ve ever said to anyone else. The sun shines on my face and I feel at peace. Being at this spot, with Lucy by my side, makes that possible. She doesn’t ask a thousand questions or feel the need to fill the silence with useless talk. She’s content to listen to me and enjoy the quiet moment. I know what she sees when she looks at me – a cocky, popular guy that everyone wants to be around because of my money and not because of who I am. Around town, I’m the son of the richest man on the island and I have to hold myself with a little more poise and polish, but out here, on the corner of the island where no one can see me, I can just be myself. With Lucy, I can be myself – a small-town boy who really, truly loves the place he lives, but dreams of bigger and better things.

I hear her step across the gravel on top of the rocks and suddenly, her small, warm hand is sliding into my own. She entwines her fingers with mine and squeezes my hand while we both stare silently out at the water.

I’m realizing, right in this moment, that meeting Lucy is my bigger and better thing.

Chapter 22

Lucy

Present Day

It’s been a week since I went to Trip’s house and Fisher kissed me in the basement. Okay, fine, I was an equal participant in that kiss, but I’m trying to block that part out of my mind, especially since Stanford and I have had a really great week together. I even managed to convince him to avoid downtown and stay here at the inn, not wanting to chance running into Fisher. The plan was to put some distance between us and get him out of my mind so I could concentrate on Stanford.

Too bad it’s not working.

Absence is not only making the heart grow fonder, it’s forcing the libido into overdrive and the guilt is driving me insane. Sticking my tongue down my ex-husband’s throat one day and kissing the man I’m dating the very next makes me feel like the trashy whore Fisher’s father accused me of being. I’m kissing Stanford when I still have the taste of another man on my lips, one who gets my blood pumping and makes me crazy, in more ways than one.

“What’s bothering you?”

On my hands and knees in one of the guest bathrooms, I glance over my shoulder to see Ellie leaning against the doorway.

“Nothing’s bothering me,” I lie, going back to what I was doing.

“You only scrub toilets when you’re pissed off or upset about something, so spill the beans, sugar plum.”

I continue scrubbing, putting a little more elbow grease into it and blowing a strand of hair out of my eyes that has fallen out of my ponytail.

“Nothing to spill. These toilets were disgusting and since the guests are all down at the beach, I figured I’d get a head start on the cleaning so you wouldn’t have to do it when you were done making lunch.”

She laughs, stepping further into the room, and grabs the rag from my hand, shaking it out and holding it up in front of her.

“Right, so you just decided on a whim to use one of Fisher’s old t-shirts to clean the toilets. A t-shirt I know damn well you were still wearing to bed up until a week ago,” she muses.

Reaching up, I snatch the shirt out of her hands angrily and go back to work. Dammit, I really loved this shirt, too. It was one of Fisher’s from boot camp, grey with the word Marines written across the front in black. The letters were so faded after years of washing that you could barely read them and the material was so soft I was afraid one more trip through the spin cycle would make it fall to pieces, but I still loved it. It hung down to middle of my thighs and made the best nightshirt. It also made it easier to think about Fisher and dream about Fisher and that had to stop.

I hear a retching sound followed by a little cough, and I turn around to see Ellie turned partially away from me with her hand over her mouth.

“Are you okay?” I ask, getting up from the floor and stepping to her side.

She holds up her free hand and shoos me away.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. That shirt just really smells right now. Like toilet water and….uuugghhh, toilet water. I shook that thing out and now the smell is everywhere.”

I have no idea what she’s talking about. I can’t smell anything but the bleach I was using. She rushes out of the bathroom and into the hall, taking a few deep breaths once she’s out there.

“You know, you’ve been acting kind of weird yourself lately. What the hell is going on with you?” I ask suspiciously as she bends over and puts her hands on her knees while she breathes.

I feel a little guilty that we haven’t had time to talk recently. I’ve been busy with the inn and Stanford and trying to avoid Fisher and she’s been busy with… What the hell HAS she been busy with? I know she’s been here working; the clean rooms and fresh food constantly coming out of the kitchen is proof of that, but what else has she been doing that this is the first time I’ve seen her in a week? Ellie and I see each other every day, even when we’re both busy.