Page 51 of Crushed By Love

“Who do you think canceled your ferry ticket?”

The fucker!

I don’t want to believe it.

But his grin drops and he looks at me with the kind of intensity that is clearly not a joke. I imagined a lot of scenarios of what could’ve happened to my ferry ticket but not once did I think Ethan canceled it.

“Why?” I breathe.

“Why do you think?” He says it like I should already know the answer.

“I don’t know what to think except you’re the reason I got stuck here!”

He turns away, puts the car into drive, and maneuvers us so casually from the parking lot that it’s as if we’re not even having this conversation.

“No,” he finally replies. “You could’ve bought your own ticket or found a way to get a hold of Malory, but you didn’t. Instead you chose to stay in the house, just like I assumed you would.”

My throat is dry as the sand outside our window, a beach off to our left as we drive back toward the house. “Why would you want me to stay at the house?”

I swear, if he keeps avoiding the question, I’m going to strangle him.

“Because you didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

I don’t know what to do with that—don’t know what to think. “So you did it out of, what? The kindness of your heart?”

He shrugs. “I’m not the monster you think I am.”

Well, he had me fooled.

But I still don’t trust it—or him. When things are too good to be true, they usually are. “So this whole time, you knew I was here?”

“I know a local who works for the ferry company. I paid him to contact me when you purchased a ticket. You never did. The only reason why I came here was because you were going to unknowingly ride out a hurricane.”

Like I said, too good to be true.

“Then why are we staying for the hurricane?” I raise a brow. “Shouldn’t we just leave?” Because it sounds like he came to rescue me, not make me stay here.

His grin pops again. “I decided it would be more fun this way.”

And there it is.

“Fun?” Now I really want to punch him. His sense of “fun” is sadistic. “Who would purposely do something like this and call it fun?”

“Okay, maybe not fun, but . . . we will feel,” he pauses for a second, considering. The line of his jaw tenses as he swallows, “alive.”

The last time I tried to feel alive I almost drowned.

“And you’re making me go through it with you?” I practically screech.

He nods and continues driving as if any of this were a normal conversation. He’s certifiable. This is not normal, this is not okay, this is not fun, and this is not what it means to be alive.

“People die in big storms like this. Do you understand that? It’s not a joke. It’s not a game or an extreme sport. And it’s definitely not something for your sick entertainment.” My voice is rising now. I want to get off this island, to get away from him.

I want out.

My vision blurs and my breath starts to come out in short little bursts. I know what’s about to happen. If I don’t get control of myself soon, I’m going to have a full-blown panic attack. My mind can’t simply will this away. If it comes for me, I have to let it take me until it leaves. There’s no other way I’ve found to get out of a panic attack except to go through it. God, I’d give anything to have another way out.

“Hey.” He grabs my hand. “Are you okay?”

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