Morgan was broken. Something inside of him, his indefatigable exuberance for the next step, the next challenge, had been snapped off at the root. He couldn’t think about his bank account without having a panic attack. The first time he saw his name mentioned in the news, he’d shut down everything and sat in the dark for over an hour, just trying to catch his breath. Any mention of Bentley was like a wire brush scraping out his chest cavity. His life, a life of running toward the next big thing, had become too much to bear. He couldn’t do it. He needed a way out.
Uncle Phil’s letter gave him that. Parrish Island was the perfect place to lie low, rest, and recover. Cut off from everyone except an old fisherman, with nothing to do except get back in touch with the parts of himself that had been nearly exorcised in Silicon Valley, Morgan figured it was the chance of a lifetime. He certainly wouldn’tspenda lifetime here; no, a few months and then he’d probably turn over control of the lighthouse to the state, but for now it was perfect.
Or it would be perfect if he could make it around this rocky outcropping without falling face-first into the ocean. Shit, how had Uncle Phil, a man in his early nineties when he died, managed this for so long?
Part of Morgan, the part he’d forgotten about once he got to college, reveled in the challenge of skirting around this enormous hunk of rock on his quest for company. He used to love spending time outside, loved backpacking and kayaking and hiking. This island had been a paradise for him when he was a kid, especially during the stretch where his parents were getting divorced, and all he wanted was to get away from it all.
You’ve got a habit of running from your emotions, Morgan.
Yeah, maybe he did, but it was better than burying them in drugs and alcohol like some people he could name. Now if he could just find a decent foothold over here … good, and then reach up there and get a grip on top of the—shit!Ow, fucking ow, what had he justgrabbed?
Morgan jerked his hand back from the rocky shelf he’d reached for, realizing a little too late that he was overbalancing. He scrabbled for another hold, but his weight was already pulling him backward. A second later, he fell, and a second after that, his body hit the cold, murky Pacific Ocean.
Morgan gasped as he surfaced, eyes stinging from contact with the salty water. God, it was cold; it was only the first week of November, how could it be so cold already?
Only November? Listen to yourself. Or rather, don’t—get out of the water.Yeah, that was the thing to do, but … this section of rock was pretty sheer. He’d fallen a good five feet when he tumbled off what he hadthoughtwas the path. That was too high up for him to reach again.
All right, it’s okay. Just swim a little farther, and you’ll find a place where you can get out. The beach the sea lions live on can’t be far.Not that it seemed like a good idea to try and share space with animals that could weigh over a thousand pounds. Fuck, why could he remember weird little factoids like that and not control himself enough not to fall in the freezing fucking ocean when—
A wave swept over his head, pushing Morgan under the water. He flailed for a moment, all his swim training forgotten as panic took hold. Up, which way was up? He finally figured it out, but just as his head broke water, another wave hit him, smashing him against the rock he’d fallen off of. He screamed as his shoulder wrenched painfully, and then his right arm was useless, and he could barely keep himself above the water, and hisclothes felt so heavy, and the sun might be shining above him, but he couldn’t feel the heat of it at all, only the cold of the water, and the rough, painful surface of the rock, and oh shit, that wave was even bigger, and he couldn’t push off the wall, and he was going under again—
The last thing Morgan felt before his head hit the rocks was something cold and firm wrapping around his waist.
Chapter two
The first thing Morgan felt when he woke up was absolutely parched. The throbbing headache registered right after that, so he knew better than to try opening his eyes as he darted his tongue across his cracked lips. They hurt—everything was starting to hurt—but a second later, the familiar shape of a straw found his mouth. Morgan closed his lips over it and sucked, and …ah.Cold, clean water flowed down a throat that felt scraped raw, and Morgan got a few more good sips in before the straw was taken away.
“Mmnoo …”
“Slowly,” someone said. Their voice was low, a little rough—they sounded like someone who hadn’t spoken in a while. “Otherwise, you’ll get sick again.”
Again?Was that why his throat felt so awful? He’d thrown up? But why?
Memories trickled back in—the path, the fall, the waves that inexorably beat him against the rock like just another bit offlotsam. Morgan registered the pain in his shoulder even though it didn’t seem as sharp as it should have, and his eyes flew open.
“Shit,” he croaked, trying to sit up. He needed to move, to prove that he stillcouldafter almost drowning right next to his own fucking island.
“Easy.” A cool hand pressed gently against his forehead. Morgan tried to look in the direction of the owner of the hand, but the dim light picked that moment to stab his brain. “You should stay down for now. Let your body remember where all its parts are before you start trying to move them around. You don’t want to confuse it.”
Morgan wanted to argue, but he didn’t have the voice for it yet. Or, to be honest, the will—his head fuckinghurt, even worse than his shoulder. “Sorry,” he whispered, letting his eyes fall shut again.
“Don’t be. You’re no trouble.”
Don’t be.So easy to say, but Morgan knew better. No one ever did anything for free, but whatever the price for saving his life was, he’d pay it as soon as he felt better. It was the least he could do for … “Are you Ty?”
The other man hummed. “That’s what Phil called me.”
Ah, a nickname then.
“You can call me Ty too,” he went on.
Morgan essayed a little nod, then winced. Not a good idea yet; the muscles in his neck felt like they were about to clench up entirely. “I’m Morgan.”
“I know.”
Oh, great. He must have seen the news. Now Morgan could look forward to a barrage of questions about his stupid company and his stupid ex and the stupid—
“Phil showed me pictures of you,” Ty said. “This will feel cold.” A second later, a wet cloth began to carefully wipe down Morgan’s forehead and jaw. “Painful?”
