Resonating Souls (Bermuda Nights #1)(3)

The moon was high overhead, sending a shimmering stream of silvery light down on the ship’s frothing wake. It seemed as if the churning water stretched all the way back to the Boston skyline, to the darkness and the monotonous life which, even now, clung to me with a tenacious grip. The weight of it bore down on my shoulders and dragged my spirit.

The roiling foam mesmerized me. It was as if I were in there, helpless, washed under, and there were none to see my plight. A dense cloud drifted across the moon, and with it, all hope.

The sobs came slowly at first, built in momentum, and soon I was sobbing as if the world were collapsing in jagged pieces around me. My hands gripped the rail, my fingers turning white. And still they came.

It seemed an eternity before the emotion ran its course, before coherent thought slid its way into the turmoil. It occurred to me, as I sucked in a long, shuddering breath, that I had never cried when Jeff had left. At the time his decision had seemed surreal, as if I were watching a movie of another person’s life. There I was, sitting in my chair at my graduation, my parents in the stands. My phone had chimed, and I smiled, looking down. Surely this was Jeff offering up yet another oddball reason for why he was running late.

Got the job offer. They want me at the Minnesota branch. Flying out tomorrow morning. Wish me luck. Guess this is it for us.

Had fun.

The shock of it still rung within me, four long months later. Had fun. And that was it. Two years of investing in a relationship which apparently never had a chance.

The tang of salt air brought be back to the present, there was a movement at my side, and I huddled in. Maybe whoever it was would pass by. I wasn’t in the mood to talk, not now, not with the wound so raw.

A low, gentle voice, velvet wrapped around a core of steel, sounded in my ear. “Tough night?”

I drew my sleeve against my face, wiping away the salty tears. My voice cracked. “Rough summer.”

He gave a low, supportive chuckle. “A lot of those going around,” he commiserated. “What was yours?”

I shook my head, looking down into the dark waves. “You don’t want to hear.”

He leaned against the rail by my side. “Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want the answer.”

I gave a soft shrug. “Ex-boyfriend.”

“Bad breakup?”

I snorted. “Barely even a break-up,” I countered. “He texted when he knew I was trapped in the ceremony for hours. By the time I made it back to my apartment, he’d completely cleared out. As if he’d never been there.”

“How long were you together?”

“Two years.”

He glanced up at that. “Two years, and he sends you a text? Sounds like a jerk.”

I looked down at my hands. “Didn’t make it easier.”

“It’s never easy,” he murmured. “It always hurts, even when you know it’s not good for you.”

“I never cried,” I admitted. “It barely seemed real. One minute he was there, the next – nothing. He had been erased. His Facebook status clicked to single.”

Silence drifted by, filled with the soft whooshing of the water beneath us. The man leaned on the rail beside me, his eyes following the small whirlpools we were leaving. I could barely see him in the ebony night. His voice was calm, non-judgmental. “So what did you do?”

I shrugged. “What was expected of me. I got a job in Boston, I got a studio apartment looking over the Charles.” I gave a wry chuckle. “Mom and Dad can tell all their friends at the Lenox Country Club that I’m a big success.”


“And now you’re on a cruise to Bermuda.”

“That was Kayla’s idea,” I pointed out. “She’s been my best friend since we were young. She’s been in Boston bartending while I went to college.” My mouth quirked into a grin. “She’s a bit ... wilder than I am.”

His voice held the hint of a smile. “Oh, I think there are some hidden depths to you.”

I blushed. It suddenly hit me that I was talking easily, openly, to a man I had just met. I’d never felt this comfortable with a guy before.

There was a low buzzing sound, and his hand went to his hip. He brought up his phone, glanced at its glowing screen, and cursed.

“I gotta run. But you hang in there. This cruise will change everything for you. I know it will.”

He leant over and brushed his lips against the side of my cheek.

The world hung in suspended time.

My skin, still moist from the tears, shimmered at the contact with his velvet-soft lips. I was enveloped with the intoxicating aroma of his scent, a mix of sea salt, musky sweat, and leather. Longings, so long hidden deep within me, swirled, expanded, and rippled. My hands gripped the railing, the knuckles turning white, and I swung my eyes up -

He was gone. He had vanished into the night as surely as if it had swallowed him whole.

My shoulders slumped. I found the heavy door to let me back inside our floating tin can, then made my way down the deserted hallways to our cabin. Thankfully, the beads were no longer hanging on the door handle. Still, I knocked before cautiously pushing the door open.

Kayla was snoring like a hurricane, sprawled face-down, naked, on the bed amidst a tumble of sheets. I gently pulled the blankets over her with a low chuckle. She nuzzled in against them, and her snoring reduced to a soft noise of waves rolling onto a beach.