Someone Else's Ocean(16)

“What is it, Koti?” It was a different tone, equal amounts of defeat and exasperation.

I lifted my folded clothes. “I’m out of water and running late for work.” It was a lie but a damned good excuse. I peered into the house behind him, before I made my case.

“Can I please borrow your shower? I’ll be quick.”

He let out a long breath and opened the door stepping back to let me in. With quick appraising eyes, I looked around the war zone. The kitchen was torn to shreds, the wood splintered. On the floor of the living room lay several empty boxes, one for a laptop that sat on his coffee table. Curious, I braved a look at the screen and saw nothing but a generic screensaver. I decided I’d made a good call about the absence of liquor when I saw the empty wine bottles on the floor. Walking down the hall, I noticed the holes in the ceiling from his attempt to silence the alarms and bit my lips to keep from laughing before I closed myself in the guest bathroom and made quick work of taking a shower. Under the warm water, I decided I’d had enough of his intimidation. There were people worried about him who needed assurances directly from the source. I never made my parents wait for word from me, even in my worst headspace.

I had no idea what had unglued Ian Kemp, but I knew I wasn’t the reason.

Fully dressed, I walked into the living room to see him sitting on his couch signing at the screen. His hands moved skillfully in conversation, the computer open toward him so I couldn’t see who he was conversing with.

Fascinated, I watched him for a few seconds.

He flashed a beautiful smile and waved at the screen before he closed it. Gray eyes drifted to me.

“Yes, Koti?”

“You know sign language. Wow.”

Cold eyes roamed over my damp hair and sundress before they landed on my face. “Yes.”

“That’s—’’

“So, you’re showered.”

I was being dismissed again, and just as rudely as the first time. I balled my fists, the New Yorker in me was ready to rip him to shreds. I pushed her aside for the moment to reason with him.

“Would it kill you to be decent to me? I know you’re going through a rough time, but would it hurt you so much to say one kind word?”

He pushed his computer off his lap and resumed the position he was in when I knocked on the door. Several seconds passed, I looked him over expectantly.

His lips barely moved. “I apologize.”

“You should,” I said without missing a beat, “sincerely and repeatedly.”

He lifted his head from the couch. The circles underneath his eyes ran deep. I doubted he’d touched a thing in the fridge. He’d drawn most of the curtains in the living room, so sunlight was scarce.

What happened to you, Ian?

“That’s none of your damned business.”

I’d said it out loud.

Crap.

“No, it’s not.”

“If that’s all…”

“Actually, it’s not. I’d like to extend a dinner invitation to thank you for the shower.”

His answer was immediate. “And I’d like to decline.” Moving to sit, he planted his feet on the floor while his hands gripped his hair.

“I’m sorry, Ian.”

He ripped his head free of his hands and turned to look at me.

“I’m sorry for whatever happened to you.”

He kept his eyes connected with mine as I took a careful step around the debris. “But your mother is worried, to the point she will probably show up here unannounced if you don’t call her.”

He frowned. “Tell her I’m fine.”

“But you’re not.”

“Again,” he said standing. “None of your business.”

“I get it, okay. I didn’t come here to fucking snorkel either.”

Surprised by my venom, he stayed mute. It seemed I had the floor for the first time since he arrived.

“A year ago, I showed up in the same shit shape as you.”

“You have no idea—”

I waved my hand in the air and cut him off, giving him a taste of his own medicine. “And that’s your secret to keep. I had my own reasons. Reasons that were just as personal to me.” People are selfish with their pain, but not their anger. I got it. I’d lived through it.

“I understand you right now more than you know, so just take a step back, okay? I’m not the enemy. I’m waving the white flag here. The dinner invitation stands. Seven o’clock. I’m a shit cook, but it’s better than staring at the ceiling.”

I made my leave without another word, relieved that he was capable of at least faking a smile for whomever he was on screen with.

Halfway to my Jeep I pulled my buzzing phone from my pocket and answered on the first ring. “Good morning, Rowan.”

Ian stepped out onto the beach in my line of sight before he disappeared down the shoreline.

“I just spoke to Ian. I invited him for dinner. I think he may come.”

“Oh? That’s wonderful news.”

“I was just at the house. It looks like the remodel is coming along.” Another lie. The next question was purely selfish. “He was on his computer signing with someone?”

“Oh good. He was speaking to Ella. His daughter, my granddaughter. She’s deaf.”