by Mason, V. F.
“Micaden is… difficult,” she states, clearly not giving a shit about my earlier words. “He owns this place, so we kind of have to deal with him, but the tourists don’t have to.”
“He hates tourists?” That will explain a lot. Even his disrespect to Peter. Which made him an even bigger ass, because he can’t be kind to the older generation.
“No, he’s just rude to everyone. Unless it’s Nona.”
My heart stills and then picks up speed again as I clear my throat. “Nona?” What are the odds that he has some nona in his life like I do in my manuscript?
The more I uncover on this trip, the more I think Kaden was right. Staying home to finish it made more sense than traveling to a small town that held resentment for strangers.
“Yeah. My name is Marcy, by the way,” she says and winks at the bartender who brings us two steaming cups of tea. “Thanks, darling. You’re the best.”
I wrap my hands around the hot cup and inhale the aroma of mint tea before raising it to my mouth and taking a small sip. The taste is divine.
Nothing can calm me down better than this, but how did Marcy know about that?
The guy has a buzz cut and chocolate eyes that study me for a moment before he crosses his arms. “Are you the woman Micaden saved from the ocean?”
I choke on my tea and Marcy rolls her eyes. “Smooth, Kurt. Really fucking smooth.”
Wiping my mouth with a tissue, I ask, “How did you know?” Does he go around and talk about his good deeds?
“Well, Marina saw you two on the beach while she was out with kids. Then she told it to Eve. Eve told Tom, and Tom told his brother who works here. And the rest is history.”
“I see.” What else can I say? Quite frankly, this is a small town, so it shouldn’t surprise me much. In New York, no one cares about your personal business, but I imagine in a small town where everyone knows each other, being in the know is a must.
Or a habit.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“Thought so. And then you bumped into him here, and the dude has his panties in a twist.” He chuckles as if finding it truly hilarious before he pats my shoulder. What’s with people here touching me all the freaking time without permission? “Don’t worry, doll. Just ignore the idiot.”
He goes back to his place while I clear my throat, wondering aloud, “Is he allowed to talk like that about the owner?”
With each new meeting or piece of information, this place confuses me more. Everyone acts so breezily, but I find nothing reassuring in their words. “Yeah. He’s the one person who is allowed to do that,” she muses, and I don’t miss how she throws an annoyed stare in his direction.
Okay, clearly there’s a history between the two.
Taking another sip, I wait for her to continue the earlier conversation, and with a heavy sigh, she does. “So yeah, Micaden has his best friend, Tom, who takes care of Nona.” At my raised brow, she elaborates. “She lives in a house for old people. She has Alzheimer’s.” Sadness laces her voice, and I press on my chest, which weirdly squeezes inside from the information. How devastating for the family. “He bought this inn a few years ago, and the place really took off.”
“So he’s just rude to everyone, and I shouldn’t take it personally,” I say, about done with this conversation. Micaden doesn’t have to like me, and I don’t care for his reasons.
His rudeness aside, the fact alone that I get a headache from his presence should be enough of an indication for me to stay away from him. I didn’t come here for my mind to be hazy while I search for the truth within me.
That lost girl is long gone.
No, I’m here to give justice to a story that doesn’t leave me alone. Then I can move on and forget about it all.
Even about the blue-eyed devil.
“That wasn’t my point.” She laughs, pushing back a piece of her blonde hair. “Micaden is difficult, but he’s standoffish with strangers for the first two or three days. After that, he’s all right. I know you’re staying here for a month, so you shouldn’t worry about the tension you guys faced earlier. It should be smooth sailing soon.”
“Oh.” I sip my tea again. “Great.” Still though, this whole thing seems so pointless. What was Marcy’s agenda anyway? I highly doubt she speaks like this with every guest.
She leans closer, resting her elbows on the table and playing with the lip of her cup. “So you two met on the shore?” And that’s when I understand the reason.
She couldn’t care less about his rudeness; she just wants to know what happened on the beach.
Because she’s interested in Micaden. Come to think of it, the minute she showed up, he walked off. Are they a couple?
Unbelievable. “I was drowning, he helped me, and that’s it.” The last thing I need on this trip is some jealous girlfriend. Especially one who can make my life here a living hell. Despite Micaden and now this high-schoolish drama, I still prefer to stay here rather than go to a hotel.
Her hands cover mine as worry crosses her face. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. No worries, your boyfriend is loyal,” I add, and then curse inwardly, because really, why did I do that? I should just stay away from a couple’s quarrel.
Her cheeks flush instantly as she looks down, fumbling with her fingers and shifting uncomfortably on the chair. “Oh, we are not that.” My brows rise, but she’s not done yet. “I wish though. But he’s not the type.”
“Oh.” Now I feel like shit for even bringing it up. “He’s a player?” Which shouldn’t be shocking really, with his looks and body. I’m surprised women don’t trip all over themselves getting to him.
But then maybe they lose all interest when he opens that freaking mouth of his.
She shakes her head. “No. He’s… not the type for anything, really. I’ve never seen him with anyone in town, but he does travel a lot. So he probably has his women there.”
Yeah, I assume with this town loving to gossip it would be really hard to sleep with someone and then see that someone every day.
But it’s my turn to shift uncomfortably as unfamiliar rage spreads through me, at just the idea of him with other women.
Oh dear God.
I’ve gone insane, because nothing else explains it.
But I don’t have time to dwell on it much as my eyes land on my phone. Gasping, I aim for my bag, digging for my pills.
“You okay?” Marcy asks and I nod.
“Yes, I just need to take my medication.” It’s the only medication that’s stayed with me through all the years, allowing me to calm down and have a restful sleep.
Otherwise, I’d keep on seeing boats, the ocean, and other crap that always ended up with me flying from the roof, as unbearable sadness penetrated all my bones.
Sometimes it felt so real my body physically ached after waking up, and the tears wouldn’t stop, so finally Kaden found a solution for me.
My brother might not have been the nicest person around, but I’ll be forever grateful for what he has done for me during my years of recovery.
And as I swallow my pills, I don’t know that a man is watching me carefully, studying my every move and expression, and taking notes.
Notes to bring me unbearable pain again so this time I’ll never forget.
Micaden
Choice.
Such a small word that has such a big meaning.
One choice can define our future.
One choice can bring us happiness that we’ve never suspected exists in this world.
One choice has the power to destroy our life.
Chapter Seven
From the pages of the book…
Taking the steps two at a time, I was flying past the kitchen when Nona’s stern voice stopped me in my tracks. “Breakfast!”
Laughing, I stepped inside the kitchen where the TV was blasting some telenovela, and I recognized it. “Oh, this is where she’s carrying a baby from his brother, right? But he doesn’t know.”
N
ona waved her spatula at me. “Shh, Alejandro is about to learn the truth.” I raised my hands, knowing full well not to interfere with Nona and her telenovelas; they were sacred.
Standing, I grabbed freshly made toast and spread peanut butter on it. I gulped green tea and took a big bite of the toast before dropping it back on the plate. “All done, tasty, thank you, Nona!” I kissed her soundly on the cheek, but she grabbed me by my backpack and pulled me back to face her.
“Emerald.”
I knew this tone, so a sigh escaped me. I wouldn’t be able to get out of trouble now.
“I thought you had a TV show.” I tried to distract her, but she knocked on the table with the spatula, and I gave up. “I’ll call them once I get back home.”
“That’s what you told me yesterday.”
“They keep asking the same questions. Nothing changes in that regard.”
“You should tell them about Brochan.”
The car horn sounded loudly outside, and I sighed again, baffled that Nona chose this time to discuss this issue. “Why? The minute I tell them, they’ll be here to drag me back home.” Not that my parents were monsters or anything, but Brochan didn’t fit their standard of a boyfriend for me.
It had to be someone from the club, someone going to an Ivy League school, and someone with a name. Not an orphaned kid who never attended college and made a living fixing cars and fishing.
I loved Brochan, and this past month had been magical with him, but no way did I want to introduce him to my parents. They would spit their snobbish attitude at him and hurt his male ego. I had to protect him from that. Our love was pure, and I didn’t want anything bad touching it.
Not for now at least.
“Summer ends in three weeks, darling. What will you do then?”
I stayed silent, hating her question, because it had so much merit I didn’t want to face.
“Everything will be okay.” Another loud horn, and I begged, “Nona, please.”
Reluctantly she let go, but then hugged me close, rocking me from side to side. “I love you, munchkin. No matter what.”
Inhaling her familiar scent, I returned the embrace, and whispered back, “Love you too.”
Finally, I darted out to where I saw Donovan occupying the front seat, waving at me as Olivia murmured something in his ear, making him go all red. I smirked. These two banged each other so frequently it was a wonder he still had it in him to blush.
Certainly they didn’t stay quiet, so at this point, what was the point of his modesty?
But then my gaze landed on the blond Scandinavian god, who opened his arms wide. With a squeal, I ran toward him, jumping on him as he gripped my ass, and my arms and legs wrapped around him. “My girl is finally out,” he murmured before giving me a hot, deep kiss. My fingers automatically tangled in his hair, bringing him closer, as he opened his mouth wide, our tongues entwining and fighting for dominance while he pressed me harder against him.
Instantly, my body went up in flames, spreading warmth and desire through me, demanding to be soothed. Moaning into his mouth, I pulled on his golden locks, murmuring, “I need—”
“Me,” he growled, but then sighed into my mouth, because catcalls from behind me stopped his actions all together.
“You two lovebirds ready to dive in the ocean?” Olivia shouted, and I hid my face in Brochan’s neck, biting lightly on his skin, earning myself a groan. “Why are we hanging around with them?”
“They’re our best friends.”
“Ah, right. Good enough reason.”
I laughed at this, and he spun us around and went to the car while I continued to pepper him with kisses.
Afterward, I would talk with Brochan about our future, and then I would call my parents and tell them the news.
But for now, I wanted to enjoy my little piece of heaven for a little longer.
If I only knew this would be our last happy month, then maybe I would have savored it more.
Island, United States
July 2019
Emerald
Leaning back in my chair, I stretch my arms above my head while the story swirls in my mind, still not giving me clear answers. For some reason, the heroine keeps on ending chapters on weird lines alluding to some bad shit happening in the future. Shouldn’t it be a happy summer romance where two young people fall in love and live happily ever after?
Why is she so mysterious?
“Now you wonder why your character is acting this way. Em, for the love of God,” I mutter, getting up and pouring some water in the cup.
Picking up my outline for the story, I study all the chapters I’ve completed so far and the others that are about to come.
They are blank, because I have no clue how this story ends, but I start to think it might have a sad ending.
Shouldn’t it be different?
Deciding to think about all of it tomorrow, I move to the balcony and step outside, inhaling the fresh air from the ocean breeze.
Holding onto the banister, I hang my head between my shoulder blades and groan in pleasure as some of the tension leaves my back.
But then I notice the unbelievable beauty in front of me and my mouth drops open, because it’s impossible not to be mesmerized by the stars and the mood reflecting in the ocean at night while everything is peaceful and quiet. This inn sure has the perfect place for resting, because it’s only one in the morning. Surely they have teens here who hang out till morning during summer?
My fingers prickle and I quickly rush back inside, snag my drawing kit and painting stand, place it on the balcony, and quickly start sketching the picture in front of me.
And for a moment, the outside world ceases to exist as I live only by my art, enjoying every minute of it… every scratch against the paper, every break of the pencil, the sweat slowly dripping down my back and plastering my white T-shirt to my body, because the humidity is out of this freaking world.
Nothing matters besides the image I want to have in my portfolio forever.
Hours later, as the sun rises over the horizon, with one last stroke, I finish the painting and step back to admire it.
Although it’s black and white, because I never use colors in my art, the power of the ocean can still be detected, even here with the moon and stars shining brightly.
An image snaps in my head.
“When I was little, Mom used to tell me that the sun is the father and the moon is the mother, while the stars are their little kids,” I tell Brochan, lying on his chest as we both study the night sky.
He chuckles, playing with my hair so gently it’s impossible not to feel loved by him. “Interesting take on things.” I nudge him with my elbow, and he groans, adding with laughter, “Okay. What an awesome take on things.”
Smiling at his goofiness, I roll onto his chest, facing him, and whisper, “I’m afraid.”
He frowns, his hand cupping my chin. “Of what?”
“What if they separate us?”
“They can’t do that.”
I wish I could be as sure about it as him, but I can’t. That’s why, with my rapidly beating heart, I say, “Let’s run away.”
Palming my head, I wish for this insanity to go away, because there’s no explanation for that. “I’m drawing right now,” I speak to the people living in my head. “Wait for your turn.”
Sleep, I need sleep.
With that thought in mind, I go back to my room to take a shower and give my mind a rest for a few hours from all the hectic emotions boiling inside me.
Not noticing how the man behind the bushes watched me all these hours, while nothing but agony filled his bones.
Along with blood that dripped from his hands that held the shattered whiskey glass.
Micaden
Throughout life, a person can experience variations of different kisses.
Hot and passionate.
Sweet and tender.
Gripping or boring.
And they are all enough to get off until
the one happens.
The one kiss that shakes your entire existence.
One kiss that pales all else in comparison.
One kiss that forever holds you prisoner to the person you may hate for the rest of your life.
Emerald was once mine to love.
Now she’s mine to hate.
Hate and love, as I discovered, don’t go as well hand in hand, as they go with pain. The lines blur, leaving only one emotion on the winning side.
Two enemies, one fight.
Who will be left standing?
Chapter Eight
From the pages of the book…
Brochan drove us to the outskirts of the city, near his house, and turned off the engine. “Where are we?” Instead of answering, he hopped out and jogged to my door, opening it for me. He placed his hands on my hips and brought me down, my skirt swaying with the action. “Brochan! Tell me!”
He winked at me and then took out a blindfold from his pocket.
“Hm… I don’t think our relationship has reached that level of trust,” I teased, and my cheeks heated. Although we shared heavy kisses and make-out sessions, we hadn’t gone all the way. He knew I was a virgin and never pushed me for more, but I was unsure how to explain to him that I needed it. All my hints so far hadn’t worked, because no matter how lost in the moment we were, he would always stop.
“It’s a surprise. Turn around.” Looking into his blue eyes shining with love, I followed his command easily, and instantly, he put the blindfold on me, and everything went dark. “Now slowly walk with me,” he whispered in my ear, biting on an earlobe before soothing it with his tongue, and I moaned, but he pushed me forward. “Later. First, follow.”
Slowly, we moved, down the road if my instincts were correct, as my sneakers thumped on the concrete, with Brochan’s smell surrounding me and filling me with such peace I couldn’t help but smile.
Finally, he stopped, and then murmured, “I love you,” right before removing my blindfold. I gasped when he pointed at the boat he usually went fishing on with Donovan.