Page 1 of Isla

1

Islide off the bed like a boneless jellyfish, desperate not to wake the snoring fucker who fell asleep with his cock still inside me.Beforehe got me there. Asshole.

All I need is a good dicking down every two weeks, and I'm golden, but that's nearly impossible when I depend on tourists to visit this tiny remote island I call my home. And then finding one that knows their way around a woman's body? Not likely.

I gather my clothes and tiptoe straight through the front door of his Airbnb, the brisk April breeze nipping at my ass as I pull on my jeans, sweatshirt, and jacket. What a fucking waste of a good cock. I take one last look at the door, hoping he'll stick his head out, make up some excuse about his sub-par performance, and drag me back inside to change my mind. He doesn't. I gather my hair over my shoulder, braiding it quickly before jamming my helmet over my head. I swing my leg over the bike, stomping on the kick start and revving the engine. I get lost in thought as I take the winding streets back to my house, the full moon casting an ethereal silver glow over the landscape.

If I'm honest with myself, I no longer have the emotional fortitude for this. Becoming a celibate cat lady seems like a far better option.My stash of toys can keep me happy without dealing with the headache of men. I have too much on my plate anyway. Between my sister-in-law, Charlie, almost ready to give birth, helping my brother with the castle, and rehabbing the bar, I'm lucky to make it home at the end of the day with the energy to wash my face. Thank the gods Charlie’s guys like to cook–I would have starved to death by now.

I can taste a hint of summer in the air as I take a deep, calming breath. I tell myself everything will settle down soon. Charlie and the guys will finally find a crew to work on the castle, and I'll book an appointment with the lawyer so James can sign the pub over to me—something I've been putting off for far too long. The dark, hulking shape of the house looms over me as I pull into the driveway. I cut the engine and sigh into the silence. It's too quiet now that Lach and Charlie moved in with Jack. I promise myself that I'll move my stuff to the cottage behind the house first thing tomorrow and list the house online as a holiday rental.

After a good night's sleep—thanks to my battery-operated boyfriend—I roll out of bed, gulp down a protein shake, and spend the day moving into the cottage. I have no idea why I waited so long. I've always loved it. A huge picture window looks out over the sea, an office, a tiny bedroom, and an even tinier kitchen. Perfect for a single gal. All I need now is a cat.

After spendingthe day moving my belongings and cleaning the house, I work a full shift at the pub.

I fucking hate this place.

No. That's a goddamned lie.

I love it so much that sometimes I can't stand it–like a lover that hangs around so long that you start to feel claustrophobic. I look up at the thick wood beams, scrubbed clean from years of smoke by Charlie and me. James had looked at us like we were crazy, but I could tell he was impressed with the final results.

Tonight, the bar is overflowing with regulars. So regular, I don't even need to think about what they want to eat or drink. I know theirwives and their kids, their vices and idiosyncrasies. I also know exactly which ones will bitch and moan when I kick them out promptly at eleven. I lock the door behind them, take the till back to the office, and bag the money to take to the bank in the morning.

"Night, James!" I call as I head toward the back door, wincing as my boots stick to the floor. I'll have to come in extra early to mop tomorrow. "James?" I backtrack toward the bar. Every other night, he's there like clockwork, babying the scarred wood that's provided a good life for him and his family–but it's empty tonight. A low groan has me throwing my shit on the bar and launching myself over it. James is slumped in the corner, drool stringing from the side of his mouth to his shoulder. I curse as I snatch my phone from my back pocket and call an ambulance. I set it on the bar, hitting the speaker button before crouching on the floor. I grab his jacket and pull him onto his side. My legs fold under me as I sit, gently resting his head on my lap. I murmur softly to him as I run my fingers over his thinning gray hair. His breaths are shallow, each one ending in a horrible wheeze.

"James, stay with me. Please stay with me." Why the fuck are they taking so long to get here? I press a hand to my mouth, holding back a sob. He can't die. He's the only father figure I've had since I was barely a teenager. My parents had taken care of me financially before they died, but James gave me the unconditional love that was missing. My siblings had been there for me but were older and had their own lives to worry about. James had swooped in and provided a safe space and a comforting shoulder. I didn't need the money, but I started working for him as soon as I was of legal age just to help him out. He never stopped needing help, so I stayed.

I jump when a stretcher bangs through the kitchen door next to the bar. I stand up, shoving my jacket under James’ head before standing, wiping at my cheeks with my sweater. The paramedics ask me a million questions I can't answer. "Just please fucking hurry," I whisper, my heart breaking with each rattling breath. I follow them out, locking the door before I climb into the ambulance.

"Miss, are you family?" a man asks, reaching toward me.

"I'm not fucking leaving him," I spit, swatting his hand away. The man holds both hands up and backs away. "Is he going to be okay?" I ask the woman taking his vitals, my gaze glued to James' face, willing his eyes to open. Desperate to see those sparkling blue eyes one more time.

"I'm not sure," the woman says honestly, fitting an oxygen mask over his face. "I think he may have had a heart attack. His vitals aren't looking good. They'll try to stabilize him at the hospital and then run some tests." I can feel her looking at me, but I can't bear to look at her face and see the truth.

They wheel him away the second we get to the hospital. I wait in the hallway, pacing back and forth for what seems like hours. I've seen this scene too many times in a million different movies, and it never ends well. I slump into a chair and drop my face into my hands. I have to keep myself together. No matter what happens, I'll have to be at the bar tomorrow or the day after. People in our community rely on it—whether it's to drown the sorrows of the past or for a hot dinner and company.

"Miss?"

I look up into the face of a doctor barely older than me.

"Please tell me he's okay," I rasp, blinking back tears.

The doctor shakes his head. "I'm sorry. We tried to stabilize him, but his heart just couldn't keep going."

I wipe away my tears with the back of my hand, forcing myself to take a deep breath.

"Are you the next of kin?"

I shake my head. "His son lives in London."

"Do you have someone that can come pick you up?"

I nod, sniffling. "Yes, I'll call my brother. Thank you for trying." I give him a watery smile and walk away, the sob I've been holding in constricting my chest until it hurts. I text Jay quickly and then burst through the doors, taking deep gulps of the night air.

Then I scream.

I scream for James and the reconciliation he'll never have with his son. I scream for me, for the hole in my chest he used to fill. I screamfor the pub and the uncertainty surrounding it now that he's gone. Jack pulls up on his motorcycle, sweeping me into his arms and hugging me tight, my sobs muffled against his chest.

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