I just need some time to myself to unravel the jumbled mess in my mind without him breathing down my neck.
The pier creaks under my boots as I walk slowly to the edge, the water below churning gently against the weathered wood.
It doesn’t feel unstable, despite his warnings. And even if it was, some stubborn part of me doesn’t care.
Maybe I like pissing him off because it reminds me I still have control over something—anything—in this impossible situation.
Maybe I like that I know there will be consequences, probably more so than last time.
The air smells like salt and seaweed, and the breeze is cool against my skin. I take a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs. For a moment, the chaos of the last few days fades into the background, replaced by the rhythmic sound of the waves.
I slip into an almost meditative state, oblivious to anything else around me for who knows how long.
Then I hear it.
A low, distant roar.
It’s faint at first, blending with the wind and water, but it grows louder with every second, and it’s undeniable. My stomach twists as I turn toward the horizon, spotting the flash of a boat cutting through the water, heading straight for the island.
Panic claws at my insides. Why is a boat this close? And why does it feel like it’s moving too fast, too recklessly?
The pier creaks ominously as I take a step back, my pulse thundering in my ears. The boat roars past, its engine churning the water into a chaotic mess of foam and rolling waves.
I try to turn and run, but my foot catches on something—no, the wood under me shifts, breaking loose with a crack.
Before I can react, the board gives way beneath me, and I fall.
The icy water swallows me whole, stealing the air from my lungs in one harsh, punishing second. The cold is a knife slicing through me, freezing my limbs, and locking my muscles. I kick hard, trying to surface, but the shock of it all leaves me disoriented, helpless against the pull of the current.
The boat’s wake makes it worse, the chaotic waves tossing me like a rag doll. I gasp when I finally break the surface, only to have another wave crash over my head, forcing saltwater down my throat.
Disoriented, I kick harder, but the turbulence seems to pull me in every direction at once. Another swell hits me, and I sink again, coughing and sputtering when I finally resurface. My limbs feel like lead, my strength fading as the relentless water threatens to pull me under again.
This, I realize in a fleeting, bitter moment of clarity, is how it felt to fall for Ezra. A relentless, chaotic pull that dragged me down no matter how hard I fought to break free. Every wave of him leaves me disoriented, gasping for breath, and yet—I haven’t stopped reaching for him.
Even now, as I fight for my life in the freezing water, all I can think about is the way his love consumes me.
Not gently.
Not softly.
But like a storm—wild and unforgiving.
It pulls me under just like this wake.
And I wonder—just like I have always wondered with him—if I’ll survive it.
20
SHE’S ALREADY GONE
EZRA
The soundof the engine roaring near the island hits my ears first. It’s loud, too loud, and immediately wrong. I stand in the lighthouse, frozen for a second, every instinct screaming at me to move.
I drop the bag of drugs I’ve been carefully stashing and sprint out the door. The cold wind slaps my face as I run toward the shore, my boots slipping slightly on the damp ground. The pier comes into view, and I see her.
Kruz.
