Page 33 of The Version You Hide

“I take it I still need to sleep with one eye open then?”

I lean back in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m plotting my revenge as we speak.”

There’s a gleam in his eye when he replies. “I’ll bet you are. I can’t wait.”

As he strides away from me, my phone chimes again.

HARPER: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!! *Sweat emoji* *Fire emoji*

Chapter 11

DYLAN

“Well, if it isn’t Cliff Haven’s own resident dive master.” Harper teases me from behind the counter at the Haven café. She wears a smile despite the bags underlining her eyes.

A sheepish smirk creeps across my face as I remember the selfie I’d sent to her from Mackenzie’s phone yesterday. I choke out a half laugh. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag then.”

I’d delighted in stirring Mackenzie up yesterday when I’d sent that message, but I realise now that I probably should have thought through the consequences before I did.

“Guess so.” She shrugs, pulling a muffin from the cabinet with a set of tongs and bagging it for the elderly woman to my left. “There you go, Mrs. Mayfield. Enjoy!”

How this woman can sound so peppy when she’s clearly exhausted as hell is beyond me. “How’s Noah?” I ask. “Mackenzie said he wasn’t well.”

“He’s still not great, but he’s a lot better than yesterday.” Her forehead crumples and the corners of her mouth turn down in a frown. “Mum’s taking care of him today so I can work.”

“That’s no good. Hopefully he’s back to normal soon.”

“Yeah, thanks. I hope so too,” she says. “What can I get you?”

I blow out a breath, remembering the text I’d received from Claire barely half an hour ago relaying the news that our parents were on the way to Cliff Haven to discuss ‘things’ with me and that they were ‘on the warpath.’

“I think I need a coffee,” I blurt.

“A coffee?” Harper stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You’ve literally never ordered a coffee from me ever.”

“Yeah. I don’t drink coffee.” Another wave of anxiety ripples through me at the thought of my parents impending visit. I smooth out the linen button-down shirt I’d chosen this morning, my palms slick with sweat. “My parents are visiting. I need something to calm my nerves. What do you recommend?”

She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t ask questions about the information I’ve just revealed. “Not coffee, dude. That’s literally the last thing you need.”

“Okay. Have you got any suggestions?”

“Chamomile tea?”

I blow out another breath. “Yeah okay. That will do.”

She rings up my order and I swipe my card. She turns to the back wall, busying herself with preparing my tea.

Suddenly, I’m thrown off kilter by the girl that barges in front of the line. Her forearm nudges mine as fingertips adorned with chipped blue nail polish meet the countertop, champagne waves spilling down around her shoulders.

“Harper!” she calls. “Have you got some cream we could borrow?”

“Uh, I guess?” Harper answers as she turns around, confusion marring her features.

“Sorry. There’s this posh woman at the bar demanding some cocktail that’s not even on the menu and Corey just put the last of the cream into his precious potato bake recipe.” She pushes her hair back off her face, revealing that flawless golden skin I’ve become so familiar with of late.

“Everything okay, Kenz?” I ask.

“Not exactly. This woman is fucking awful,” she replies.

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