Page 93 of Forget Me Not

It feels like having my cake and eating it, too. I get a few weeks with the girl of my dreams, then I get to live the life I want, alone. It’s the alone part that’s gotten to my head the past couple days.

Nova still thinks I’m a good guy. She still thinks I’m nothing like Higgins, the vulture from Portland. In truth, we’re the same. He’s an asshole, looking to take the inn from her. I’m the asshole, looking to take her. We’re both monsters. Just with different faces.

“We’ll leave at five in the morning. That too early for you?”

“I’m an early riser. I’ll be there.”

He holds out his hand for me to shake and I do. As I’m doing so, a cord laying on the floor behind catches my eye.

“Plug that in.”

Manto reaches down, connecting the plug to the socket and the boiler whirs to life.

“Are you fucking shitting me?”

“See,” Manto jokes. “You need me around. I’ll tell Nova you fixed the boiler, though. Help you get laid. I’m going to get laid, regardless.”

I actually laugh at that because only he would say something so fucking stupid.

“Shut the hell up.”

“So, what are you going to do with all your money after you’re done crabbing?”

Manto showed up to the docks right on time this morning. Oddly enough, I like having him around, despite his never-ending need to make fucking small talk.

Usually.

Today, I’d much rather be out on the water by myself, so I can think. After last night when I found myself in her bed, again. . . shit’s changed between Nova and I. It’s not just sex and it’s not what I signed up for.

Unfortunately, I also don’t want it to end. Whatever the fuck it is.

I can recognize, with some annoyed clarity, that I’ve gotten attached to someone for the first time in my life since Mom died and with that, I’m pissed at the world. Pissed at her for being so goddamned perfect. Pissed at myself for being the way I am, also for the first time in my life. Pissed at Jack for existing.

If I was normal, maybe this could work. I’d come out on the water, maybe hire Manto to help out. I’d come home, Nova and I would have dinner and I’d bury myself inside her until neither of us could keep our eyes open. In the morning, we’d get up and do it all over again.

Fuck, what a picture.

She doesn’t even know me. Not the real me and the shit I’ve done. She wouldn’t want me for who I am if she knew the demons that chased me from North Carolina in the first place. More than a drunken bastard of a father. More than shitty foster homes.

“You good?” Manto asks, and I realize I’ve been ignoring him.

“Yeah,” I grit, hauling another trap up. “Sorry.”

“Something on your mind?”

“No. Just thinking about the trip.”

Manto nods, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me for even a second.

“You know, I didn’t mean to stay here.”

I pause, lobster in hand, and just stare at him, not sure what to say.

“Okay?”

“I’m serious. I was only going to work here for a while, but . . . this place sucked me in.”

“You mean, Tara sucked you in.”

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