Page 43 of Property of Anchor
“I should go,” he said quietly, like the words pained him as much as they did me.
I didn’t move.“I know.”
His hand cupped my jaw, and his thumb brushed just under my cheekbone.“If I stay, I won’t stop.”
I swallowed hard.“Would that be so bad?”
“No, but maybe we both need to get a breather before this thing between us burns the whole damn place down.”
My heart pounded—thudded like it wanted to leap into his chest instead of staying in mine.
He stepped back slowly like his body didn’t actually want to obey his mind.“You’re safe in here, Pearl.”
I nodded.“Because you’ve got cameras everywhere?”
A small smile played on his lips.“Yeah.That, and… we always keep watch.You’re not alone here, even if it feels like it sometimes.”
He took one last look at me.Something deep and unreadable flickering in his expression, then turned and opened the cabin door.Cool air drifted in behind him, and I followed him to the porch like I didn’t trust the floor not to disappear under my feet the second he left.
Anchor paused at the edge of the porch, the dim moonlight brushing the edge of his shoulders.“Get some sleep.”
I leaned on the doorframe.“You too, biker man.”
He glanced back with a smirk and then walked off into the night.
I watched him go.Step by step until he disappeared into the shadows between the trees and the faint glow of the haunted house lights.
The air felt different once he was gone—still full of tension… but empty too.Like he’d taken something from me when he left but also left something behind.
I sat down in the porch chair, tucked my legs up under the blanket, and stared out at the darkened island.
I didn’t know what came next.
But I knew I was right where I needed to be.
And someone was always watching.
Even when I wasn’t sure if that was a comfort or a warning.
Chapter Seventeen
Anchor
Saturday rolled in lazy and gray, thick with humidity and the smell of lake water that never really left Skull Island.It was the kind of day where the quiet felt too quiet, as if the whole island was holding its breath.The crew had taken off for the weekend.Only Pearl and Bernice were still around, holed up inside the haunted house with paint rollers and a stack of drop cloths.
Skull had asked if we should close for a few days.Recalibrate.Figure out what the hell was going on with these damn bodies.I’d told him no.Business needed to keep moving.We needed a sense of normalcy, even if it was all just smoke and mirrors.
Still, I hadn’t stopped thinking about Pearl.
Last night, when I went to Pearl’s cabin, I hadn’t planned to touch her.Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to, but I was trying to control myself.
Obviously, with Pearl, control was out the damn window.
I needed to see her again.I just needed her.
So around noon, I made my way over to the haunted house.The place was eerily quiet without the sound of tourists screaming their heads off.Just the faint creak of wood and the occasional muffled bang from deeper inside.
I found her in the main corridor, brush in hand, painting one of the peeling baseboards a fresh coat of crimson.She had her hair up in a loose bun, little wisps falling around her neck, and her tank top speckled with paint.The sight of her made my throat go dry.
