The confession feels like a knife to the gut, and yet I can’t bring myself to blame her. Annabel has always been a storm, a whirlwind of contradictions and impossible beauty. How could I expect her to choose between the sun and the sea?
“You don’t have to decide right now,” I say finally, my voice low and steady. “Just… don’t shut me out. Don’t let him be the only one you turn to.”
She looks at me, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I don’t want to hurt you, Jonathan.”
“Then don’t,” I whisper, closing the last bit of distance between us. My hands find her arms, my grip firm but gentle. “Stay.”
For a heartbeat, she leans into me, her warmth a balm against the cold. But then she pulls away, her gaze flickering toward the path that leads back to the cottage.
“I have to go,” she says, her voice trembling. “Calum will be wondering where I am.”
“Let him wonder,” I snap, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “He doesn’t own you, Annabel.”
She flinches, as though my words have struck her. “No. He doesn’t.” Her gaze meets mine, filled with something I can’t quite name. Regret? Longing? Fear? “But he’s a part of me, Jonathan. Just like you are. And I can’t… I can’t tear myself apart trying to choose. It’s like tearing my soul in two.”
Before I can respond, she turns and begins walking in the opposite direction of Holiday House, her figure silhouetted against the storm-gray sky. I want to call after her, to beg her to come back, but the words stick in my throat. Instead, I watch as she disappears down the path, leaving me alone with the wind and the waves.
As I turn back toward the edge of the cliffs, I’m struck by the crushing weight of what just transpired. Annabel’s indecision, her impossible beauty, her maddening contradictions—they’re all seared into my mind, as permanent as the jagged rocks below. And yet, even now, I know I’d follow her anywhere, even if it meant stepping off the edge myself.
The storm grows heavier, the first drops of rain pelting my skin as I make my way back toward the path. But the tempest outside is nothing compared to the one raging within me. Annabel may not know what she needs, but I do. And I’ll be damned if I let Calum be the one to give it to her.
By the time I reach the cottage, the rain is coming down in sheets. My clothes cling to my skin, and my breath fogs in the cool air as I push open the door, not bothering to knock. The warmth inside is almost suffocating, a stark contrast to the chill that has seeped into my bones. I peel off my jacket and let it fall to the floor, too drained to care.
Calum’s voice greets me before I even see him. “You’re soaked.”
I glance toward the living room, where he’s seated by the fire, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. His gaze is piercing, as though he can see right through me.
“It’s raining,” I say flatly, kicking off my boots.
He doesn’t respond immediately, his eyes narrowing as he takes a sip of his drink. “Where were you?”
The question is casual, but there’s an unmistakable edge to it. “Out.”
“With Annabel?”
I freeze, my pulse quickening. “Why would you think that?”
Calum’s lips curve into a humorless smile. “Because she’s not here. And because I know you, Jonathan. You’ve always been predictable when it comes to her.”
The accusation hangs in the air, heavy and unspoken. I want to deny it, to tell him he’s wrong, but the words catch in my throat. Instead, I meet his gaze head-on, my silence speaking volumes.
“You should be careful,” he says finally, his tone deceptively calm. “Annabel isn’t as innocent as she looks. She’ll chew you up and spit you out without a second thought.”
“And you’re any better?” I counter, my voice rising despite myself. “You’re so obsessed with her you can’t see that she’s drowning. You think you’re saving her, but you’re just pulling her down with you.”
His expression darkens, and for a moment, I think he’sgoing to lunge at me. But then he leans back in his chair, his grip on his glass tightening. “At least I’m not hiding in the shadows, waiting for scraps of her affection. At least I’m honest about what I want.”
The words cut deeper than I’d like to admit, and I’m left standing there, drenched and seething, as he turns his attention back to the fire. I’ve always known Calum and I were bound to clash, but this… this feels like the beginning of something far more destructive.
I vow then to inflict the kind of emotional pain she’s asked me to live with. I will make Annabel regret her decision to stay. Even if it kills me too.
Chapter Sixteen
Calum
Holiday House is a mausoleum of memories now. Annabel is everywhere and nowhere. Every corner holds her fingerprints, every shadow curls around her absence.
I sit at the desk in the small study she loved, its surface still scattered with reminders of her—a broken fountain pen, dried lavender stalks, her floral stationary. Lightning cracks the sky, illuminating the room in sharp relief, and my eyes fall to the corner where her trunk sits. It’s a weathered thing, edges worn smooth by time, smelling faintly of cedar and salt. Annabel always kept her most private treasures inside, hidden from prying eyes. Not that she had to hide from me—I was her shadow, her confidant. But she still locked it when she thought I wasn’t looking.
