6

Sebastian

She falls asleep easily in my bed. I watch her, curled into me, small and soft and safe.

I look at the clock, barely two in the morning.

Opposite her, I won’t sleep tonight.

I never do on this night.

Pushing the covers back, I climb out of the bed, careful not to disturb her. I pull on my jeans and a sweater. The nights are cooling off, fall is fast approaching. I walk out of my bedroom, down the stairs, pick up my shoes which are by the door. I grab one set of keys and walk out of the house, heading to the water’s edge.

The sand is cool beneath my bare feet and I stop to listen to the sound of water lapping against the shore.

How calm it is. How comfortably predictable. It’s always the same, no matter what. No matter the chaos on the island or in my head.

And tonight, there is chaos.

I have her back. She’s safe.

After Lucinda shot me, I woke up in my bed, my arm stitched up where the bullet grazed it, a flesh wound. I wonder if I hadn’t caught her wrist if she’d have hit her mark. Killed me. I wonder if that was her intent or if rage clouded her judgment.

I wonder about my meetings with Joseph Gallo. With David Vitelli. I wonder which of them turned on me. They’ll need to be punished and I’ll get to that.

But not tonight.

Tonight is for something else.

And Helena’s back. She’s asleep in my bed. She’s safe.

Lucinda and Ethan are gone—for now.

I walk right up to the water, let it run over my toes. I run a hand through my hair wondering what’s happened to me in the last month? Since she came into my life.

No. That’s not the way to say it.

She didn’t come willingly.

I stole her out of her life and forced her into mine.

She has every right to hate me, yet she doesn’t. She clings to me. And I can’t get her out of my head. Out from under my skin. I can’t get enough of touching her, can’t get close enough to her, not even when I’m buried deep inside her.

I look up at the sky, dark enough tonight that I can see stars.

It’s a new moon. And it fits the day.

Black.

Today is my twenty-ninth birthday.

When the next wave reaches my ankles, it soaks the bottoms of my jeans.

I step backward. Sand sticks to my wet feet.

Time to move. Time to get off the island. Just for one night.

Gregory will take care of Helena.

I make my way to one of the two boats, climb on board, start the engine. It seems louder at night and I take one look at the house, at my dark window.

She’s tucked inside, safe and sound. She’ll be here when I get back.