Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
I prod at the feeling, trying to determine whether it’s related to the fight with my father, the awareness that I’m stuck on an island with him for another long stretch of days. But when I look at it, really inspect it, I realize that this simmering panic isn’t currently linked to Ray Weston. That I hate him is a fact unchanging.
And it isn’t linked to the loophole in the family trust, that terrifying pitfall I’m avoiding every step of this trip.
It’s the idea of seeing Anna again tonight that makes my stomach feel hot and uneasy. It’s the echo of her words that turn my gut into a bubbling cauldron of anxiety.
I want to be on your team.
I’m here for you.
I’m your ride-or-die, West Weston.
This feels like anger. Or dread. Or fear.
And that’s when I force myself to stop, because what I’m truly afraid of is giving this fear a name.
* * *
I SIT SO LONG that the sun begins its slow descent into the horizon. Some time alone to just breathe is restorative; my thoughts settle, my pulse eventually eases. But as much as I am soothed by the idea of sleeping on this beach or—better yet—climbing into a boat and drifting to the next island over, I know I can’t stay away forever. At some point, I’ll have to throw myself back into the fray.
The packed agenda keeps us busy and all the socializing really does turn the island into a shoebox; every night there’s a gathering, a party, some way for my parents and the McKellans to display their enormous wealth. Tonight is no different.
I heard Jake and Kellan talking about the spectacle of it at our groomsmen fitting—something about an Old Hollywood soiree. Kellan confirmed that his mother applied for a waiver from the Indonesian government to adjust the number of allowable items visitors can bring to Pulau Jingga simply so she could ship two crates full of costumes here for the party. It’s just like everything else so far this week: excessive to the point of distasteful.
I wonder if Anna knows this; I can’t imagine how she’d react.
And as soon as I have the thought—of Anna back at the bungalow, alone, waiting for me, wondering what the fuck happened—that tightness is back, the feeling of something wrong inside me.
* * *
ANNA MUST HEAR MY footsteps because she jogs around the lower deck to the wood slats of the bridge, throwing her arms up, hands resting on top of her head. She blows out a huge breath, turning in a half circle when she sees me. And the way it looks like she might cry makes me feel another strange wave of paradoxical anger.
I don’t get it. I have no fucking idea what’s going on with me.
“There you are,” she says, voice shaking. “Jesus Christ, West. I was about to go looking for you.”
I frown. “I was fine.”
“Where did you go?”
I know there’s no way around this, but the urgency to turn around and walk back along the bridge and down the beach to the quiet tip of the island feels like a second heartbeat in my torso. “I just went for a walk.”
“A walk?” she repeats. “You’ve been gone for like three hours.”
“I had to get some air.”
I feel her staring at me as I look out at the water. I can see this from the outside, how terrible this is, how fucked up I’m being after how things have been between us, after opening up to her, and after what she said.
I’m your ride-or-die, West Weston.
I know it’s not fair to sound so clipped, but I simply do not have the mental fortitude to walk it back. I don’t know how to explain what’s going on inside me. I feel like an uneasy, outdated version of myself, and I hate it. I know it’s not possible that seeing my dad has wiped out the years I spent working through this exact kind of thing, but I’m twenty years old again and staring down the barrel of emotions that are too big to wrap my head around.
“You’re being weird,” she says quietly.
Finally, I meet her eyes. “How so?”
Anna stares at me. “Seriously?”
“What do you want me to say?” I swallow as a shiver runs down my spine. “I just went for a walk. Don’t make it into something it isn’t.”
“Someth—?” She cuts off, jaw tight as she looks out at the water. I listen to her taking three deep breaths before she says a quiet “Sure. Okay. I say nice things and you bail. Nothing at all to read into there.”
“We barely know each other,” I say. “Just remember that.”
At the wounded look in her eyes, I immediately want to pull the words back into my mouth.
Anna huffs out a laugh. “Oh, I will.” After another beat of silence between us, she takes a final, deep breath and then turns fully to me, smiling in a way that feels both familiar and devastating. Everything in her expression looks the same as it always does, but her eyes are completely blank. “I took the liberty of choosing a couple options for you for tonight.” She lifts her chin to the inside of the bungalow. “I laid them out on the bed.”