Page 69 of Stranded

I glance up at him and blink. “On the house?” Kieran half-smiles, and I wish I could laugh, but I’m too miserable.

“Thanks—” I sip, then squint at it. “Is this that… zero percent stuff?”

“I want you to move your golf cart later. It’s blocking the ramp,” Kieran tells me, and I manage a huff of breath that almost passes for a laugh.

“Fine. A beer’s a beer, I guess.” I didn’t realize how dry my throat is, and to be honest, it’s a relief to gulp it down faster than my usual stuff. “Oh, god. I really fucked this up.”

“Mate,” Kieran winces as he leans on the counter. “If anyone fucked this up, it was me. And the dozen other people here who helped them out,” he gestures furiously toward the island. “We had no idea there was sabotage.”

I should warned them. I should have thought about that myself.

“Whoa,” Kieran snaps his fingers. “Stop giving yourself reasons to feel guilty. Take it from me: you go down that road, there’s no end to it.”

“So what do I do?” I look up at him.

Kieran hums thoughtfully, scrubbing down the bar with a rag. “You can’t go lock that door now.”

“True.”

“And you can’t go after him until the show opens.”

“No, yeah.” I hesitate, glancing over the harbour again. “But… I wanted to. And I should have tried. Even if I can’t get what I want… I’m supposed to be honest about it.”

“Mmm.” Kieran folds his arms on the bar to watch me. “So what now?”

“I can’t do anything.” I grunt with frustration. “I just wait around until this evening. I mean… I was planning something else, but… oh, god.” I fold my arms on the bar and bump my forehead against them.

It’s too little, too late. I don’t even know if he’s going to want to come home to me later.

“Here’s an idea.”

When I look up, Kieran has turned the CCTV monitor toward me. There’s three figures walking past the camera, and one of them turns to look over his shoulder.

“Derek,” I hiss quietly. “That’s him.”

Then, Kieran picks up his cellphone and turns it to me, too. He swipes between two photos: a blurry photo of all three of them just inside the front gate, and another photo of them crowded around the yellow suitcases like they’re trying to block them from sight.

“Idiots,” I scoff.

Kieran grins. “Does this help give you something to do today?”

“Hell, yeah.” That’s one way I can make amends. And not just for Ronan’s sake—because I want to, too. Those assholes took advantage of me, and nobody gets away with that anymore.

Then my phone buzzes, and for a moment, my hopes rise.

Carter:

We’re here. Are you coming?

Shit. He hasn’t heard the news. Should I call the whole thing off?

Kieran is being nosy, leaning over to read my phone as he dries glasses. “Oh, aye. That’s true. If I overheard you and the lads right the other day, you’ve got somewhere to be.”

“You… you really think it’ll fix things?” I look up, biting my lip.

I made this plan weeks ago, when I couldn’t have predicted how badly today would go wrong. It’s a risky move. But if I’m already in the doghouse, how much worse could things get?

Kieran shrugs. “Maybe it will, maybe it won’t.” He sets down the glass and looks at me. “But there’s a chance it will.”

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