Page 65 of Crushed By Love

I ignore him, hurrying down the wooden stairs even faster.

He chases after me. “These stairs could be compromised!”

I freeze, my reply catching in my throat because he’s right and I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. I assess the stairs beneath my feet, shifting my weight side to side to see if I notice a difference. I don’t. And the wood is looking only slightly more worn than it was before, even though it’s still damp. Of everything on this estate, these stairs are the only things that don’t match the upscale high-end elegance of the rest of the house. It’s like they were built decades before the house was and I’m a little surprised the Kings haven’t replaced them yet. It’s only a matter of time before they give out. What’s the deal with them? And the old gazebo too? There’s got to be a story there as to why they haven’t been torn out by now.

I keep going.

“Do you have a death wish?” He sounds angry now. Good.

“You would know about death wishes, wouldn’t you?” I yell back, continuing down the stairs without looking up at him. I hear him start to follow, so he must not be all too concerned about these stairs either.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I scoff. “You’re the one who wanted to ride out the hurricane like a lunatic.”

Honestly, except for a questionable one towards the bottom, these stairs are in pretty good shape, which is pretty damn amazing considering the beating they must have taken. I reach the beach without any trouble. Unless you consider Ethan King to be trouble, which I do, because he’s quick to catch up, grabbing me by the waist and hauling me around to face him.

Twenty-Six

“What’s going on with you?” His eyebrows are drawn together, long lashes casting dark shadows over stormy eyes. I can’t let it get to me or read into the flutters in my heart.

“I’m saying goodbye to the beach.”

“Why? We’re not leaving yet.”

As hard as it is, I force myself to drag away from his arms. I shouldn’t want him to hold me. “I’m leaving. I’m finding a way off this island and you’re going to help me. That was the deal we made, remember?”

His eyes flick at the sky, as if searching for strength to deal with my theatrics, and I wonder what thoughts are tumbling through his mind. He’s a closed book. Unreadable. “We have a small airport here.” His gaze snaps back to me. “I already called and talked to them. The runway was damaged in the storm. They said it’ll be a week before it’s functional again.”

My mouth goes dry. I already know the pier got ravaged. I doubt the ferry will be here any sooner. “What about a helicopter?”

He shakes his head. “They’re not willing to come out and get us yet either but that might be an option in a few more days.”

“I have to be at school by the twenty-fifth.” My voice wobbles and I hate it. I don’t want to cry in front of this man again. Not ever.

He nods. “And I have to get back to work. Don’t worry, you’ll be in Boston and I’ll be in Manhattan by the twenty-fifth.”

“You promise?” I hate asking him to promise anything. He’s never given me the impression that he cares about keeping them.

“Of course.” But his voice is thin.

It’s the best I’m going to get but I hate that I don’t trust it to work out. Or trust him. There’s something he’s hiding. I can feel it in my bones. I stare at him, searching for cracks, for signs, anything. But he’s so fucking unreadable.

Frustrated, I head down toward the water. I’m not getting in but there’s a bunch of sea life washed up on the sand, mingled with ropey seaweed and piles of shells. There are even sea stars. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in person before.

Ethan catches up, his stride matching my own. “We can throw those back.” He points to the sea-stars. “They might still be alive.”

We get to work, picking up the stars and tossing them back in the water. The beach is littered with several species of them and my heart hurts just thinking of them being ripped up from the ocean floor and left here to dry out in the sun. We should’ve gotten to them earlier.

This stretch of beach is at least a mile wide, and we spend over an hour barely making a dent in it. At least I remembered to put on sunscreen this morning, but the exhaustion is already starting to get to me and the day has barely begun. And we’re here for how many more days? At least a week, he said, but maybe less if he can charter a helicopter.

I need hydration. I need a hat. And most of all, I need to get the hell off Nantucket. Wanting a bit of cool relief, I step into the water, letting it lap at my ankles. I close my eyes and allow a much-needed sense of calm to flow into my nerves. I hate how panicked I can get. I know everyone feels these types of emotions, that anxiety is part of the human experience, but mine can overtake me to the point of exhaustion or illness, sometimes crushing my lungs or making my entire body buzz. If it’s really bad, I’ll even get itchy and develop hives. There will be a medical center at college that I can go to for help and I’m planning to do that first thing because I can’t take this much longer.

“Are you okay?” Ethan’s voice is far off.

I vaguely register notes of concern in his voice. Concern and guilt.

Good. He should feel guilty. He had the chance to get me out of here and he didn’t. And now look where we are? We’re stuck in the middle of a disaster. At least we were able to help some people yesterday. That makes this bearable. He places his hand on my elbow and I flinch slightly, but he doesn’t remove it. “Look at me.”

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