Does It Hurt? (43)

“What the fuck?” I mumble, but my attention is diverted again when the girl walks deeper into the ocean, causing my heart rate to skyrocket.

“Hey!” I scream out, slapping the palm of my hand on the glass, but I’m sure the sound is being swallowed by the howling wind. The girl stills, so I shout some more, hoping she’ll turn around. But she only stands there, frozen as the waves batter into her.

“Sylvester is coming,” Enzo warns, his voice low as he steps away from me.

Loud footsteps are stomping down the hallway, but they’re not coming from his room. He’s coming from the staircase.

I turn around and scramble off the bed, the door handle jiggling as he unlocks it. Already, I can feel his anger seeping through the door.

When he gets it open, he busts in, stomping his wooden peg on the floor.

“What in tarnation is going on in here?” he barks. His eyes find mine and then slide to the window behind me.

“What in the hell do you think yer doing, young lady?”

“There’s a girl out there,” I explain, hiking my thumb over my shoulder. “She was standing in the ocean.”

“A gir—now, what are you going on about?” he grumbles, hobbling toward us to look out through the glass.

“There ain’t no girl out there,” he booms.

“What?” I squeak, peeking around him. But he’s right.

There’s no one out there.

Mouth open with bewilderment, I turn toward Enzo to find him staring out the window, too. Quiet and face smooth, but his eyes are shadowed with suspicion.

Facing Sylvester again, I insist, “There was a girl out there. We both saw it.”

Sylvester leans over the bed to get a better look.

“Ain't no one out there,” he grunts finally. “You're seeing things.”

I clench my jaw in frustration, knowing damn well we both saw her.

Training my gaze on Enzo, I watch him stare Sylvester down, his suspicion as evident as the old caretaker’s missing leg.

Enzo shrugs casually, a glint in his eye. “Must've just been another ghost.”





Chapter 13


Enzo



“Where the hell are you going?”

The question is out of my mouth before I can think it through. Seems there’s very fucking little I think through when it comes to her.

It’s been a week since we got stuck in the closet, and every day since then, she disappears somewhere for most of the day. Leaving after breakfast and not returning until the evening. She acts normal enough, joking with Sylvester but then ignoring my existence at night, keeping her back turned to me even in sleep.

She doesn’t talk about where she goes, and as each day passes, my curiosity burns hotter.

Maybe it’s because I don’t like being here alone with Sylvester all damn day, though I’ve found plenty to fix around this place to keep me occupied. Or maybe it’s because I don’t like that she’s found an escape.

Slowly, Sawyer turns to face me, halfway out the door with a stony look painted on her face.

Her skin is beginning to pale, indicating she’s not spending as much time in the sun. This island is nothing but rocks. There’s nowhere to go but up.

“None of your business,” she snips, shutting the door behind her before I can respond.

A booming laugh needles into my skin, filling my muscles with tension and my body with anger. Clenching my jaw, I turn my head to stare at Sylvester, who is leaning against the counter drinking coffee.

“Something funny, stronzo?” I ask. He frowns, not understanding what I called him, and I have no inclination to clue him in.

We don’t get along, though neither of us has outright spoken of our distaste for each other. He doesn’t like that I show him little respect, and I just don’t like him.

“Girl’s gotta mouth on her. Haven’t been around people much the past several decades, but it’s always interestin’ to see how feisty women are these days when I do come across ’em. Met a few women on deck when the cargo ships come ’round, and boy, they give those men a run for their money.”

He’s trying to have a conversation.

I turn my glare back to the door.

I don’t like having conversations. Least of all with him.

Standing, I toss over my shoulder, “I’ll be back later.”

Sylvester just grumbles, clearly displeased with my manners. He’s not a meek man, but it’s become increasingly evident over the past week that he keeps the peace with me for Sawyer’s sake.

He likes her. And I don’t fucking like that about him, either.

By the time I get outside, she’s nowhere in sight. Even after walking for several minutes, I don’t see her climbing on any of the cliffs or sprawled across the jagged rocks like I’d half expect. Nothing about her screams graceful.

By the time I circle the entire island and still can’t find her, there’s a seed of concern sprouting in the pit of my stomach, slowly taking root as the minutes pass by.

Where the fuck could she have gone?

This island isn’t that big. There are only so many places to hide. We had to have somehow missed each other, and she’s already made her way back to the lighthouse.

Just as I’m about to give up and head back, I catch sight of a big hole smack in the center of a cliff.