Page 63 of Summer People
I’m either entirely too affected by Fisher’s simple words or these are signs of a concussion. I don’t want to stop this conversation, though, so I don’t mention my symptoms.
Instead, I tilt my head and examine him more closely. What is it about him that’s so intriguing? “So why not take Sutton back to Boston?”
“Isn’t it my turn to ask a question?”
Lips twisting, I consider telling him no. But he’ll only argue, so I give a simple shrug.
He folds his arms across his chest and lifts both brows, dark eyes intent on me. “Why are you really here? And don’t sugarcoat it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
fisher
Her whole body tenses up.Yeah, I know the jerk-wad of an ex costar is threatening her and that she’s here hiding out, but I don’t know what he’s trying to force her to keep her mouth shut about. Every morning I wake with the desire to hack into her email again and search for clues about what he’s done. To break into her text messages, or his. Like my craving for that first cup of coffee, the need for answers percolates in my system.
How easy it would be. With a few keystrokes, I’d have exactly what I want. But this other nagging pull overshadows my curiosity. More than I want the answers, I want her totrust me with them.
I’ve never experienced the sensation before. This desire for a bond with another person. It sits on my chest like a big, fat lump, reminding me to stay the fuck away from her personal communication. Trust can’t be earned through hacking. That’s for damn sure. She has to open up on her own. With any luck, the insight I gave her into why I feel more like a prisoner than a resident of this island will help.
Her eyes dart around like she’s working on a plan to get herself out of the conversation. If I were better at this, Icould probably ease the answer out of her, but communication has never been my strong suit. Trying to exude patience and nonchalance that I don’t feel, I turn back to the steaks, though I continue to monitor her reflection in the door of the microwave.
Finally, she slumps and bows her head. “What do you mean why am I here? You made me sit here.”
Frustration flares through me as I turn off the stove and slide the pan to the other side. “Don’t get smart on me now, Princess.” Arms crossed, I lean against the countertop and watch her.
Picking at an invisible dot on the perfectly clean table she sighs. “It’s obvious that you read the papers, so this seems like a waste of a question.”
“Do you really think I look like the kind of guy who reads the tabloids?”
Her emails? Maybe. But the tabloids hold no appeal. And nothing about the clips of information I’ve caught here and there through Sutton depicts the real Libby. They might talk about Elizabeth Sweet, the actress persona she dons when necessary, but they couldn’t be more wrong about the girl who captivates my attention.
She huffs out a hard breath, causing her blond hair to ruffle away from her face. “Everyone reads something. All the information is there if you look for it.”
I bite back another growl of aggravation and drop into the chair beside her. “I want to hear it from you.”
Her baby blues widen at the intensity in my voice.
Uninterested in taking the words back, I grasp her small, cold hand. I create a connection. A physical tie to each other.
Her eyes lock there, flaring a little when I lace my fingers with hers. “For my entire life, the whole world has felt as if they know me.” She swallows thickly and licks her lips. “Everyone has an opinion about who I should be. I needed to escape so I could figure out who I really am.”
That might not have been the exact answer I was fishing for, but damn is it a good one.
She lifts her head and holds my gaze, and the entire room shrinks. It’s only the two of us, nothing else.
I see it. Dressing for herself, learning to drive the golf cart and light the pilot. Wanting sherbet instead of ice cream. These are all ways she’s been trying to find herself. Discovering the Libby I adore.
I squeeze her hand.
Her eyes glitter with unshed tears. “You’re running from your life. And I’m running to find mine.”
I rub my lips together and consider her words. “I’m not running from my life.” Hell, most of the time I feel like I’m clinging to a past I should have let go of long ago. Only in the last few weeks have I felt like a single thing on this island is for me. I swallow hard at that thought. In the short time I’ve known her, this woman has changed me.
Lips pursed, she tilts her head. “Really? Because you seem like you’re living your brother’s life.”
Not a single cell in my body can work up any type of disagreement. I am living his life.
“So why don’t you go into their room?”
