No, I was pissed at whoever thisLiamguy is. I couldn’t find information about him onlineanywhere.
Shady. As. Hell.
I have promised myself that if I ever met him, I’d punch him in the throat.
Audrey probably blew me off tonight to see Liam again. She was probably out at Catalina Island right now. As I took another sip of scotch and savored the smooth burn it provided in my core, I stared in the direction of the island.
Wondering what changed in Audrey.
Wondering how someguycould cause this much distance to appear between us. We had been best friends for fifteen years. We grew up in the foster care system together. Graduated together. Went to college together.
Yet, I wasn’t sure if we were still each other’s best friend after the last two years. Because she was gone more often than not.
Glaring in the direction of Catalina Island, I pulled out my cell to send off a text—not surprised I didn’t have one from her.
Me: If you need me, I’ll be drinking on my boat. Alone.
Then I rested my cell on my thigh. Waiting for three dots to show up. Waiting. After five whole minutes, I received nothing.
Nothing. But she’dreadthe message four minutes ago. So, in a moment of pure pettiness, I sent another text.
Me: I think I’m going to move out.
She never bothered to read that one. Thus, I continued my pity party on my mini yacht.
God, that sentencereallymade me feel like an ass.
I could sleep here until I found my own place, I thought. I also considered converting the attic of the Sun Bean into a small studio apartment. I wasn’t sure if either of those options were perfectly legal, but I couldn’t find it within me to care.
I didn’t want to move out, though.
If Audrey was a victim of domestic abuse, the logical explanation for the scrapes and bruises I’d seen on her, the bestthing I could do is be there for her when she ishopefullyready to address it. But what if she wasn’t? What if I was overreacting to the scrapes and bruises that I’d seen her with? What if she felt like our friendship was a burden to her? What if she was simply embracing a male-centered life? I had no way of knowingwhatexactly was going on with her, because she wouldn’t fucking talk to me about anything.
A gust of wind hit me, making my dark hair brush away from my shoulders. I shivered, even though I was wearing a hoodie to protect me from the chill of the ocean.
A throat cleared behind me, and I yelped and jumped out of my seat to whirl on whoever it was.
I assumed it would be Audrey—for some stupid reason.
But it wasn’t.
It was a man.
No, wait,twomen.
“What the—” I backed away from them at the same time my heart rate kicked up. One of them was definitely the man who followed me earlier tonight. But I couldn’t recognize which one specifically followed me, because they looked so similar.
The two men stood between me and the cabin. Behind me was the railing of my boat, and the muddy ocean water of the harbor.
I immediately tried recalling the dozens of self-defense courses I’d taken throughout my twenties. The movements that felt natural after hours and hours of training, designed to disarm and incapacitate a large man long enough for me to escape.
The one on the right stepped forward, raising his hands as if to show he wasn’t a threat.
He had dark, shoulder-length hair and a very light color to his eyes.
I wondered if it was the night sky and the moonlight that made them look so light, sobright. But I didn’t focus on his eyecolor for too long because the next detail I noticed was how tall he was.
How tall theybothwere.
