Pierce Island was still there, sitting in cool Caribbean waters, waiting for someone. And maybe that someone was me. I had the funds for it, especially by myself. I could sit by the beach with a fire nearby, a room to myself, and prove that I didn’t need them.
That I could have something that was just mine, that didn’t belong to my family.
It would be lonely. I was still wallowing in what I’d lost when Atlas was wheeled past the OR doors and I never saw him again, but maybe this was a chance to heal from that too.
We were star-crossed lovers in almost the most literal way because the man’s name was Atlas, and that was a single star in the Taurus constellation. The glowing light in the distance who held a promise I made to him and to myself that I would never give up on me.
And maybe—in my own fucked-up way—I hadn’t given up on the idea of seeing him again, even if I doubted he’d remember who the hell I even was.
I knew so little about him. He’d gone dark after I left him in the hands of the doctors. I knew he’d survived. That the doctors were able to stop his internal bleeding and he was going to make it, but that was it.
The most detailed information released to the public was that he suffered a spinal injury and would be taking a long leaveof absence from performing. I had half a mind to message one of his social media accounts just to check, but that probably counted as stalking, and considering I was fresh into my new job, I couldn’t take the risk.
God, I sounded like I was losing my mind, pining after a total stranger I’d spent less than an hour with. He was no different from any of the other patients I’d saved after terrible accidents, but something about him felt different.
So yeah, an island vacation was starting to sound pretty good right now because I needed to get over this. To get over him.
Hell, maybe I could meet someone—another lonely, sad single trying to reclaim some sense of joy during a solo holiday.
I would settle for a few perfect days where real life didn’t creep in to ruin everything.
My fingers navigated across my laptop’s trackpad, and the next thing I knew, I was clicking the button to book the hotel. Pierce Island only had two, so I picked the one my parents always stayed at when I was a kid, and I felt a little rush of triumph in my chest.
Next came the train ticket to Savannah and the hotel to stay overnight so I could be ready to board the ferry at dawn.
Finally, I booked the ferry ticket—first class, because why not. It wasn’t like I had anyone else to spoil besides myself.
The money exited my bank account, and I allowed myself one single, solitary wince before telling myself that I deserved this. I’d earned it. And if it turned out to be a shit show, well, at least there wouldn’t be anyone there to witness.
“So you’re telling me you’re going to an island full of holiday rejects?—”
“Gracie,” Hasan said, offering me a look of gut-wrenching pity as he set a plate in front of me. His falafel taco, he called it, which was pretty much just a falafel-stuffed pita with tomato and cucumber salad on top. His Mediterranean pico de gallo, he claimed, in honor of Graciela’s Mexican heritage. I wasn’t about to correct him on his not-quite fusion cuisine. “Don’t be mean.”
I offered him a small smile. “It’s fine. It’s going to be a bunch of WASP families and then me, and hopefully at least one other man who likes to fuck other men and finds me attractive.”
Hasan gave me a slow up-and-down look before he sat next to his fiancée. “You’re very good-looking.”
“Thank you,” I said, then stuffed half the pita into my mouth and began to chew.
Gracie scoffed. “I’m tired of you playing favorites, mi amor. Ryan needs a reality check.”
“He needs support, habibti. Look at him. He’s got anxiety.”
“Thanks, guys,” I said, mouth still full.
“Look, the truth is, if there is another lonely, sad sack of shit on the island, he’s probably a psychopath, and your body’s going to turn up floating somewhere in the Atlantic.”
“Then I’ll feed the sharks. It’s not a terrible way to go,” I told her.
“Very eco-friendly,” Hasan agreed, and she scowled at him.
I grinned. “Thank you, Hasan. Anyway, maybe he’ll be a psychopath taking a break from his serial killing, looking for long romantic walks by the water.”
“And you want to put your dick in that?” she demanded.
I shrugged. “At this point…”
“No, that’s enough,” Hasan cut in. “I’m sure there will be some very nice men for you to choose from. Don’t panic and let her get into your head. She’s been listening to too many true crime podcasts.”
