Page 18 of Starting Over With the Sea Monster
She sighs. “OK, but just know if you change your mind, or if something changes and you need money, you only have to ask.”
My voice wavers again. “Thanks, Mom. I know.”
“I love you, honey. And Trish is standing here waving at me in case I forget to tell you that she sends her love too. We’re thinking of you.”
I hang up and set my phone down.
I’m broken, but at least I can see how all the pieces might fit back together again. I just need a little time.
After that, I finally close my eyes and drift into a few hours of not very restful sleep.
It takes me a good few minutes to work out what time it is when I wake up. My body feels like it’s the middle of the night, but it’s full sunshine outside and my stomach is rumbling like I skipped ten meals.
OK. I guess I skipped one and my belly is a drama queen.
Rubbing at my eyes, I haul myself out of bed, take one look at my face in the mirror, and turn away. No good will come of looking too hard at my reflection today. The dark circles beneath my eyes are more like pitch-black pits, and my hair stands up on end in a wild ball of frizz that suggests I’m going to need five wash days to tame it.
Anyone who thinks wearing their hair curly is easier has never tried the curly girl method before. I yank it into a top knot and wrap my purple scrunchie around it, fixing it in place wildly askew on my head. I pull on my sweatpants and give my face a hasty wash in the sink.
I need breakfast.
Unfortunately, by the time I stumble down the stairs, the host informs me breakfast finished two hours ago and they’re not serving lunch or dinner because it’s Monday.
Unable to face the thought of appearing anywhere remotely nice like a café or bistro, I stumble out, blinking into the sun, and drag myself the whole mile to the local supermarket. Some fruit and yogurt would be nice. Hell, a muesli bar would cut it this morning. I just need enough to give me the energy to take a shower and wash my hair so I can look presentable again.
Lucky I’ve been able to go pretty much unnoticed here in small-town Australia. I’m sure right now Justin’s fans would have a field day with a picture of me looking like this.
The lights in the supermarket are too bright and the overhead in the fruit section flickers disconcertingly. I’m looking for the cereal aisle and accidentally turn down one with stationary instead when I have to double take.
The picture of the man on the cover of a magazine at eye level is all too familiar. My stomach does that flip flop it still does every time he smiles at me, only he’s not smiling at me. Justin, my ex-boyfriend, is smiling the smile I thought was reserved for me at a woman whose back was to the camera when the picturewas taken. But by now, I’d recognize that taut ass in skin-tight leggings anywhere. That’s Rechelle Oaks.
An ugly sob rises in my chest until it has nowhere left to go but bursting from me. I cover my mouth, but another wells up and another until I’m gasping, wracking sobs shaking my whole body. I stand fixed to the spot in the stationary aisle of the supermarket having a meltdown.
EIGHT
Noah
Kraken Cove is a dead-end town at the best of times, but on a Monday afternoon it feels like the ass end of the world. I’m reaching for a jar of burger pickles on the shelf at Woolies when a strange noise from the aisle opposite jolts me from thoughts of whether I can be bothered cooking dinner tonight.
There it is again. A guttural sob. A horrible indrawn breath. My whole body is instantly on alert and I can’t explain why. All I know is my heart is racing a million miles an hour and I have thewildest urge to knock down the whole shelf of groceries to get to whatever it is on the other side.
Shoving the jar back onto the shelf, I leave my trolley where it is and dart to the end of the aisle and around the corner only to be met with a mess of red hair and the particular sweet and fragrant scent I’ve come to resent after getting far too close and personal far too many times in the last few days.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Olivia spins mid sob, hands covering her mouth and wide eyes blinking at me above them. Her whole body goes still, and I’m struggling against the urge to tear down the whole supermarket and fight whatever made her cry like that.
Fucking stupid kraken genes.
“Well?” I fold my arms across my chest and wait for her to answer.
She mumbles something, but it’s so muffled by her hands that I can’t make it out.
Irritated, I reach for her and realize a little too late just what I’ve done.
As soon as our skin makes contact, two things happen. I feel an instant sizzle of energy. A wild excitement that does nothing to soothe the rapid beating of my heart.
Then my hands come into contact with her tear-soaked fingers, and my whole body shivers.
