“Garrison, please stop!” Fallon wails. She turns to Henrik, begging him to step in.
Her fiancé finally gets Luke in a hold that he seems to be incapable of getting out of for a few seconds. His jugular is being crushed by Garrison’s forearm, but he won’t tap out.
Somehow, Luke shoves him off, nearly gaining the upper hand before Garrison jumps back, roaring at him, “Stop it, you psycho!”
Every head on the deck is turned toward them, and other than Luke’s and Garrison’s labored breathing and the lapping waves, there is only silence.
They’re both bruised and bloody, white shirts spattered red. Luke looks like he might attack again at any moment, but Fallon steps between them. Henrik is behind her, a wrinkle of concern between his brows.
Fallon presses a hand up to her brother’s chest, and he backs away, shaking his head. He stumbles in the other direction, guests parting the way.
I follow him, hoping I can somehow guide him back to the bungalow. He looks like he needs to see a doctor, but I have no idea how to even begin finding one here.
I knew he hated Garrison, but holy shit that was intense...
I catch up just in time to save him from collapsing over the side railing next to the exit plank. My hand snakes around his waist as I attempt to pull back on his weight. His arm rests on my shoulders, but thankfully, he is still able to walk on his own...mostly.
“Kate...Kate, why are you here?” he asks, his words slurred. He sounds like he’s in pain.
“You invited me along as your assistant,” I tell him, thankful to see one of the golf carts that brought us from the bungalows available for passengers.
He collapses on the seat, and the young boy driving looks up at me with wide, fearful eyes.
“The east side bungalows, please.” I attempt a reassuring smile.
“No...no, I didn’t want you to be here for that,” he murmurs, his head falling into the side of my neck.
I take a deep breath, hoping to hear some kind of elaboration on what he just said.
“That’s what you told me I was here for.”
Keep him talking.
I can feel him smile into my neck.
“Hmm. I never . . . I never drink like this.”
“Well, I did it the first night we met. It’s okay.”
The warm, sticky blood from his eye is on my neck and possibly staining my dress. He sighs, reaching his hand around to curl it over my hip.
“You’re so . . . so sweet. Why are you so sweet?”
I don’t know how to respond, so I wait for him to keep going on his own.
“That first night I met you, I thought you weren’t even real. How’d your asshole ex ever let you go?”
I stiffen at his words.How does he know about Stephen?
The cart pulls up next to our bungalow, and I tell the boy to stop. Luke seems to be nearly asleep against me, but I push him up enough to get him to stand. The boy is a saint, helping me support the giant man as we shuffle through the door.
Luke finally seems to become aware of where we are, walking somewhat on his own until he gets to the bed, collapsing on it.
“Thank you so much.” I pull out a few francs, the Tahitian currency Luke gave me a roll of when we arrived.
“Merci, merci,” the boy says, exiting with a smile on his face. I must have tipped well.
Luke is bleeding all over the white bedspread. I’m sure he can afford to cover the cost, but I should at least try to help him undress.
