Between Here and the Horizon(37)

Kind of pathetic when I thought about it.

“I wouldn’t believe a word of it if I were you, Mikey,” a clipped, cold voice said over my shoulder. The bare skin across my shoulder blades instantly broke out in goose bumps. I knew without a doubt who it was, and panic sang through my veins. Sully stepped into view, clapping a hand on Michael’s shoulder, who looked awkward and edgy all of a sudden. Sully was wearing a plain jet-black shirt, smarter than his usual plaid, though his black jeans were scruffy and worn. A clear foot shorter than him, Michael seemed to shrink even further as Sully massaged his fingers roughly into Michael’s shoulder. “This is not the kind of woman that hangs around an island like ours, Mikey,” Sully said. His tone was light, though there was an unpleasant edge to it that made me uneasy.

“Ophelia Lang from California is just chasing a pay check. Once her job here is over and my brother’s children are packed off back to New York, you won’t see her for dust. Trust me. And then, once she’s finally left, I might be able to sell that haunted old warehouse she’s currently squatting in, and then I’ll be able to leave, too.”

“What? Sell the house? You can’t.” Never mind the fact that he was being shitty and spiteful. That was to be expected. But what the hell was he talking about, selling the house?

Sully took a deep swig of his beer, and then arched an eyebrow. “Of course. Ronan left it to me, didn’t he? I can do what I want with it once you’re gone.”

“You grew up in that house, didn’t you? It was your parents’ house. It’s been in the Fletcher family for generations.”

“What the hell do you care about the Fletcher family home?” Sully asked, cocking his head to one side. “What does that damned pile of bricks and mortar mean to you?”

“Not to me,” I snapped. “To Connor and Amie. It’s their heritage. Their birthright. It’s their history.”

“Then my brother should have left it to them instead of me, shouldn’t he? He knew I was more likely to burn the place to the ground than ever live there, taking care of his kids.” Finishing his beer, Sully grabbed a fresh bottle from the box Jerry, the boat skipper, was carrying past us.

Michael winced. He looked like he wanted to back away slowly, one step at a time so as not to be noticed. God knows he couldn’t be blamed; I didn’t want to be a part of the conversation either.

“You’re heartless, you know that?” I shouldn’t be doing this. What good was arguing with him? Or name calling? Sully was the kind of guy who lived for bickering and mud slinging. He got off on it. Without a doubt he was far more accomplished at it, and I was only going to lose my temper if I engaged him the way he clearly wanted me to.

“Heartless? Yeah, I guess that’s a fairly accurate description. Vile. Repugnant. Selfish. Cruel. The list goes on.” He let go of Michael and shoved his hand in his pocket, then. Michael cleared his throat and made his escape.

“Excuse me, Ophelia. It was a pleasure to meet you. I’m sure I’ll find you again before Rose drinks too much and kicks everyone out later.” He gave me a small smile and hurried off without even casting a look in Sully’s direction.

“Why do you have to be so rude?” I hissed.

“To Michael? Psshhhh.” Sully knocked back another deep draught of his beer, draining nearly half the bottle. “I wasn’t rude to him.”

“You were. And you’re rude to me. You’re rude to everyone. Every time you open your mouth, you can’t help yourself. You have to be caustic or unkind to whoever happens to be standing in your direct line of fire.”

“Point of fact, that isn’t true,” Sully said, scowling. “I’m nice to some people.”

“Who?”

Sully rose up on his tiptoes, scanning the room, and then he pointed. “There. The redhead with the white shirt on? I plan on being very nice to her later.”

The redhead in question turned just as Sully pointed her out, as though she knew someone was talking about her. She saw Sully looking over and her cheeks flushed bright red. I got the feeling she and Sully had spent a lot of quality time together in the past. “You’re a pig. A grade A pig,” I informed him.

“Why? Because I plan on showing my girlfriend a good time?”

“She is not your girlfriend, Sully Fletcher.”

“Oh? And how are you so sure?”

“Because no woman could tolerate your attitude long enough to ever fall into a relationship with you.”

“Bullshit. You know she’s not my girlfriend because you’ve asked around.”

Now it was my turn for my cheeks to turn crimson. I had asked around, subtly or so I’d thought. Cara, Jerry’s daughter; Oliver, the guy who brought the papers in the morning; Jillian, Rose’s friend, who sometimes dropped her off at the house: I’d asked them all delicate, indirect questions about Sully’s personal life that I hadn’t thought were all that obvious. I hadn’t asked because I was interested. God, no. I’d asked back when I thought the man standing in front of me might be capable of taking care of Amie and Connor. I’d wanted to make sure they were entering a safe and stable environment, the same way Sheryl had with me.

Sully was still looking at me, a lopsided, roguish smile spreading rapidly across his face, and I had the overwhelming urge to scream.