Page 54 of Never Fall for an Angel

He may have left me. He may have promised me the world and then broke my heart the moment I gave it to him. He may have even kidnapped me with the intent to exact revenge on a man who tried tobuyme like a prized breeder pig at an auction.

He’s also the same man who remembered I wouldonlyeat toast with strawberry jam from a single conversation we’d had years ago and my favorite shampoo. The one who looked at my scars and didn’t let me see how disgusted they made him. Whowashed me with as much care as you would a baby and then force-fed me his godawful beef stew.

“It’s not magic,” Christian calls from his spot, leaning against the broken-down fence post in the front of the cottage. I see he must be taking a break from beingBob the Builder. “No matter how many times you walk it, shit never changes.”

I throw him a finger over my shoulder, and even though my feet are tired, I start the trek again, just because he’s pissed me off.

He shakes his head, chuckling under his breath and returns to his hammering while I make my way back towards the trees.

Shipwreck Island is fully equipped with everything you’d ever need. Well . . . except for a way out. A barn sits overtop the cliffs, the center taken up by a massive boat that I’m betting is the one Rudy spent twenty minutes talking about how to sink the other day. The lighthouse is fully operational, but it’s no longer in commission. Why, I don’t know.

There’s another, smaller shop with every ancient tool you can think of and a cellar that looks like it stepped right out ofThe Shiningoff the house.

My favorite place, though, is the greenhouse.

It’s made of stained glass, green and shining in the sun. A few panes are missing, but otherwise, it’s in remarkably good shape for the rough weather of the island. Inside is filled with weeds, and though I’ve never been able to grow a single thing and have killed every plant I’ve ever come into contact with, I’d love to plant a garden of wildflowers inside and watch it grow.

I pass by it, though, because what’s the point in cleaning it out? It’s not like I’ll be staying here. Not permanently, anyway. Whatever Christian has in store for me, I doubt it lies in the greenhouse.

So, I walk.

And then I walk some more.

By the time I reach the other side of the island, I’m ready for a break, so I drop my ass on the rocks, looking out over the sea. If you squint really hard and cock your head at a forty-five-degree angle, you can just make out land.

If I grew a mermaid tail and bulked up the muscles of an Olympic diver, I might just be able to cross a quarter of the straight.

Something tells me that’s precisely why Christian picked this island. Close enough to get supplies out here.

Too far for me to be stupid enough to swim it.

Did I mention I hate him?

I blow out a breath, watching a leaf fall to the ground from above. It’s August, but fall will be approaching soon, so the leaves will start to fall.

Something tells me, if I were a leaf, I’d be the first to go.

Listening to the wind rustle, the leaves kick up around me, drifting out over the ledge. It’s the same ledge I almost tumbled over the other night, complete with jagged rocks and certain death below.

It takes me a solid few seconds to realize the leaves don’tstoprustling when the wind does, though.

I pause, ice slipping down my spine, and my first thought is to scream. Something tells me Christian wouldn’t let me get far enough away that he couldn’t hear me if I were in danger—collateral and all—but the moment I open my mouth to try, the sound gets caught in my throat.

I stumble back, catching myself before I make a grave mistake and plunge to my—well, grave.

“You’re not funny,” I snap, looking all around me for the source of the sound.

Who am I kidding? Unless a rogue seal made it up here, it has to be Christian. There’s no one else around.

But . . . seals are a lot louder than that, and whatever it is, it doesn’t stop.

“You don’t scare me, Christian.”

Okay, he actuallyisscaring me right now, but I’ll be damned if I let him know that.

“Damnit, asshole, get out here or leave me alone,” I bark, annoyance flaring in my chest.

Imagine my surprise when Christian barks back.

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