Page 123 of Fire Island
“What are you talking about?”
I pull the note from my back pocket and pass it to her.
She stares at it for too long before sliding it from my fingers. Opening it, she tilts her head, her jaw clenching. She knows exactly what the note is before she reads a word.
Her breaths shorten as her eyes track across the page and back again. With every line, her face tightens further.
“Where did you find this?” she finally says, setting the paper on the counter like it could explode and take us both out at any second.
“On the console of Firefly last night, when I went to grab the overnight bag.”
“Why didn’t you tell me then? We could have come home.” Her inhale is staccato. Her hands wring around themselves. “We would have had better options. And Ree?—”
I take her arms in my hands. “We couldn’t have known. I didn’t know they would take him. I thought they were in Bay Shore.”
She shrugs my hold off and paces around the living room. Her hand flies up to her mouth but a scream rips past her trembling fingers. Padding to the sofa, she grips it with white knuckles.
“I’m so sick of this! The torment. The manipulation... I’m done. I’m. Done.”
She stalks to the fridge and tugs the knife from the door. “I’m done being a side character in my own story.”
“Evie,no.”
“Stay here, Cal. I won’t risk you again. Never again. I’ll bring him back, I promise.”
I fly at her. “No fucking way. You go, I go.”
“Youfind Emmett,” she says. Now her voice is too calm. “Meet me at the southern tip in an hour and a half.”
“Evie,please, don’t do this.”
She slides the knife into her back pocket before cupping my face. Her wobbly smile breaks as she searches my expression. “You changed my life, Callum McCreary.”
Tears swell in those brown eyes.
“Please stop,” I rasp, sobs spiraling up my throat. I can’t let her go by herself.
I won’t.
But I can’t fight this battle for her, or she’ll always be looking over her shoulder.
Fucking Christ.
I stand frozen to the spot, torn in utter fucking half.
We have no time to wait for the police. Hell, getting Em here in time will be a stretch.
Lips crashing to mine, she kisses me like I’m her last meal. Her hands slip from my face as she whispers, “Tha gaol agam ort.”
I slam my jaw shut, molars aching with the grinding I need to do to keep my damn mouth shut. To let her fight her own battle. To leave.
Opening the door, she hesitates, looking back, and I fall back against the counter. The sweetest smile blooms over her face. A moment later, the door closes, and she’s gone.
I shove my hands through my hair, loosing a roar that would see the dead wake and see them roll over in their goddamn graves.
Feeling as helpless as a man can get, I stumble to the radio.
“Fi—Fire Island to watchhouse.”
