Chapter 22
Georgia
“Just delete it,” I stare down at the voicemail notification on my phone. “Just fucking delete it.”
But I can’t bring myself to do it. Instead, my gaze just zones out on my father’s name, wishing I could delete the voicemail but knowing I have to listen to it first.
The hull of the Serendipity creaks in its slip, and I finally hit play.
“Georgia,”his voice is sharp.“I can’t even process the kind of disgusting arrangement you’ve gotten yourself into. I can’t believe you’d let yourself get wrapped up in some sort of sick, polyamorous bullshit.”He pauses and lets out a breath.“I’m driving to St. Augustine, and I expect you to meet me at the marina—alone. Don’t make me come hunt you down, because I sure as hell will. You owe me answers. I raised you better than this.”
My pulse throbs in the side of my head. I replay the voicemail.
I raised you better than this,his words echo in my head.
I blink, thumb trembling as I press stop. A cold, tight pressure builds at the base of my skull. I dig my nails into my thigh and try to focus.
The sound of Catherine’s voice from yesterday slithers through my brain.“You’re disgusting. I hope you get what you want out of this, because trust me, it won’t last.”
I wipe a tear from my eye before it even has a chance to fall. I want to throw up, but there’s nothing left in my stomach. I haven’t eaten since yesterday when it all happened.
I check the time on the voicemail, and then sigh.He’s coming for me.
Well, he’s coming for all of us.
I go back to my phone and pull up Daisy’s name. I hit the call button and wait, listening to it ring.
Nothing.It goes to her voicemail. I squeeze my eyes shut, and this time, let the tears spill over my cheeks. I try Daisy once more, and when she doesn’t answer, I toss the phone on my bed.
Fuck.
She must be in a meeting or maybe just sick of my drama. I have no idea, but Ineedher right now.
I tuck my knees up to my chin and try to think. But all I can picture is my dad’s face, thundercloud-dark and radiating a kind of fury I’ve seen so many times. And this is going to be so, so much worse.
Because now, it’s not justone,it’sthree.
That nearly sends me into a spiral. I try to breathe, as the walls of the room feel like they’re caving in, every shadow stretching until it smothers me. My vision goes fuzzy at the edges, and for a second I’m sure I’m going to pass out, so I bolt for the porthole, wrench it open, and suck in hot, briny air until my lungs burn.
The humidity issuffocating.
I turn around and check my phone again, seeing a message on my screen.
Daisy: In a meeting.Everything okay?
I want to answer, but I don’t even know where to start.
Maybe I should just leave.That’s what a smart person would do. They’d get off the boat, get a cab to the airport, and disappear before the bomb goes off.
I drag my suitcase from the closet and start chucking clothes into it. Every few seconds, I freeze, picturing Dad screaming at me, Catherine’s sneer, and the sense of pure dread tripwires every freaking muscle in my body.
Halfway through shoving my laptop charger into a side pocket, I pause, remembering the last time I did this. When I almost left the boat that morning…
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My knees buckle, and I sit down hard on the edge of the mattress again. I clutch the phone to my chest and breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth, like Daisy always said to do. It barely does anything for my racing heart.
A sharp rap at the door makes me jump. For a moment, I think it’s my father already here.
