And what ‘different way’? Her skin prickled: just before, when he’d first turned to leave, he’d turned towards the water. Was he so obsessed with swimming? Her crazy ideas surged again, defying logic. Sensing she was pressing against a dangerous boundary, she pushed a little more. “But, just this once couldn’t you – I mean, would you mind…walking me back? In case those guys come back or something?”
“You needn’t worry about them, Skye. They won’t ever try to hurt you again.” His quiet voice was beyond certain. He took another step back, nearer the water. She wanted to ask him what he meant, about the boys, and about going a different way. But suddenly she couldn’t focus on anything other than that he was leaving her, again.
“Hunter, you can’t just go. I mean – when will I –” She stared at him, wishing the words would fall into her mouth, wishing for poise and confidence so she could simply ask him… And somehow words did spill out. “Hunter, who are you?”
She held her breath; she hadn’t meant to ask that. The ocean burned as the sun sank below the cloudbank and touched the horizon.
Hunter’s expression was conflicted. Skye found herself almost rising on tiptoes to draw the words out of him. Whatever was coming next meant the beginning of something, or the end. But he cocked his head as if listening, and searched the shadows of the Cove.
“I have to go. You won’t have to walk back alone.” He looked at Skye, his expression suddenly charged with a kind of recklessness. “But – will you find me? Tomorrow?” his words came in a rush as if trying to get them out before he changed his mind.
“Skye!” Startled, she spun around to see Ethan striding over the shadowed sand. Turning back to Hunter she almost fell forward into the empty space where he’d been. She uttered a soft cry, feeling a stab of loss.
But below her in the flame-streaked water a movement caught her gaze, and she looked down into silvery charcoal eyes, deep as the ocean. The sunset caught Hunter’s face and shoulders, painting his skin gold, the hollows of his face sharp with shadow. He hovered in the water, his dripping hands clinging to the rocks inches from her bare feet. His eyes met hers with such an intense hunger that the breath was knocked out of her. A fierce yearning had her on the verge of throwing herself into the water to him. Before she could move or speak, he whispered, “Find me.” And then he was gone.
Perhaps Skye made a noise, because Ethan called out to her again. Before she could find her voice, he reached her. Catching hold of her shoulders, he turned her abruptly towards the fading light and peered into her face.
“Why didn’t you answer me? What happened? Have you been here the whole time?” Stepping back, he looked her up and down, taking in her bedraggled appearance. His face grew tight with something she couldn’t read. “Did you fall in?” he demanded.
She glanced at the water, rippling like velvet where Hunter had vanished, and shivered, the evening breeze cold against her wet skin.
Searching her face, Ethan’s softened. Unexpectedly he pulled her to him and held tight for a brief moment. “You really want watching, you do,” he murmured. “Come on, let’s get you warm and dry. You can fill us in later.”
He took Skye’s hand, and although she felt awkward, she was grateful for the warm strength of it. All the same, she felt increasingly embarrassed. This constant rescuing was becoming ludicrous, this was so not her. The pull of the sea and of Hunter was making her careless.
They made cautious progress off the rocks, picking up her sandals near the dark archway, then on through the shadows to Bascath Beach. Skye’s stomach churned as she tried to order her chaotic thoughts. Those two guys were Ethan’s friends. She had to tell him what they’d tried to do. But, how could she?
By the time they stepped off the saddle track onto the beach, distant village lights were a blush of orange and pale fluorescence against the mauve sky and sombre hills. Further down the beach Ethan’s friends laughed and shouted, dark shapes in the twilight, catching glints of village light like figures on a dance floor. The sea was calm, its voice a murmur.
It jarred her to realise that while she had been immersed in terror, the beach party had continued. She recoiled from the thought of bringing her story into this happy scene. Not to mention that once Morgan knew, Skye could forget any chance of looking for Hunter tomorrow. His face filled her mind, its velvet and burnt light, his eyes locked onto hers. Find me. Not a choice anymore. She had to see him, to find out more about him. Just…see him.
Ethan let her hand go. Shapes detached from the crowd, looming towards them as if out of the dark sand. Her stomach knotted. What if the two guys were among them, waiting? Hunter had promised her they would never harm her again.
“God, not again?” Skye didn’t have to look to recognise the voice. “Would someone please tell her – if you can’t handle it, keep out of the damn water!” Amber, a pink sweatshirt on above the sarong she’d donned earlier, reached them, flanked by two girls Skye didn’t recognise. Others followed. Everyone had bundled up against the cooler air. Skye felt ridiculous as well as cold in her wet thin dress.
“Desperate for attention much?” Amber murmured to her companions, who giggled. Skye’s run-in with Amber earlier seemed to have taken some of the volume out of her taunt, but it was loud enough that both she and Ethan heard it.
“Shut up, Amber,” he muttered. Stooping, he retrieved his towel and draped it around Skye’s shoulders. She clutched it gratefully, pulling its edges right up to her chin, inhaling the scent of warm cotton with the added tang of dried salt water, and an echo of Amber’s perfume.
Ethan stood between the impromptu audience and Skye. In the dusk, distant street lights caught the gold in his hair, and cast a softly theatrical glow over them all. Despite Amber’s expression, they looked like they’d stepped out of a video of teenaged fun, and Skye was conscious of being seriously miscast. She wondered if she was ever going to be around Ethan when she wasn’t a sea-trashed mess.
“Did you find her?” Morgan pushed through the crowd, breathless from a sprint, followed by Jasmine and a few others.
“Yep,” Ethan replied. “She seems fine. Bit wet though.”
In the faint light Morgan’s face looked tight with concern. “Skye, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Skye’s voice sounded off to her own ears. Weak, high. She cleared her throat.
Morgan’s eyes raked Skye from head to toe. “You’re soaked through!” She peered more closely at Skye’s face “And you look like you’ve been…” She broke off, glancing around at the avid audience. She lowered her voice. “I just got here. I thought you’d gone back to the apartment. Then someone said you were missing and they were looking for you…at Ciarlan Cove.”
A distant, tooting horn hammered out a pattern, catching the group’s attention. A bus rolled slowly along Marine parade. A few interior lights came on, and figures inside could be seen waving. With smiles and shouts, many of Ethan’s group waved back, some of the girls jumping up and down. Morgan and Skye looked bemusedly at each other. Skye shrugged her ignorance, glad of the distraction. The bus accelerated, interior lights clicking off one by one and the vehicle disappeared towards the hill road out of Bannimor.
“Wish they could have stayed,” Jasmine said. “Those guys were the best.” There was murmured agreement from others, and Morgan looked around inquiringly. “Morgan, you would have loved them.” Jasmine looked at those near her for confirmation. “It was this touring sports team. They completely crashed our party, but they were so much fun. And cute,” Jasmine added with a grin.
“That too,” Amber agreed, her eyes flicking to Ethan.
“Those were the guys who joined in the ball game?” Skye asked.
“Yeah,” Ethan said, “A soccer team – no wonder they were killing us.”
“They’ve got back-to-back matches from tomorrow,” another girl offered. “This afternoon was the only time out they’ve had for like, a week.”
Relief flooded Skye. Those two jerks weren’
t Ethan’s friends – just party crashers. And they’d gone, to be tied up with matches. She needn’t say anything right this second. It could wait, long enough for her to find Hunter tomorrow. Then for the sake of others’ safety she’d tell Morgan, and they’d work out what to do.
“Hope they stop on the return trip,” Jasmine pouted. “We hardly got to know them.”
“I think some of us got in a bit of quality time,” Amber said softly, looking at Skye.
Lost in her thoughts, Skye nearly missed the comment. Before she could respond, Morgan interrupted. “Well, sorry to cut the fun short, but Skye is going to shiver her skin right off if she doesn’t get under a hot shower. Where’s your bag, Skye? We’re leaving.” The words sounded ordinary, but to Skye it was unmistakeable. Morgan was annoyed. Spotting Skye’s bag, Morgan retrieved it, her lips pressed together as if she was holding back.
Skye felt stung. This was becoming a theme. “I’m capable of walking back by myself, believe it or not,” she said tersely. “You stay here. It’s your party, and I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“Did someone mention a bodyguard?”
They both looked at Ethan.
“She’s right, Morgan,” he agreed, “You stay. You’ve missed the party so far. I’ll walk her back.” Morgan hesitated, half persuaded.
“Hey!” Skye waved her hand between them. “Right here, guys!”
“Better me than you if it’s a bodyguard you’re after,” Ethan continued, “Slightly better equipped,” he did a phony muscle stance pose which got everyone groaning, lightening the mood about a million percent.
Morgan nodded, “Deal.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard!” She was desperate to be alone to just think. “Ethan, I truly don’t need anyone to walk me back. Morgan…?” she appealed.
Morgan’s expression softened slightly. “Humour me, okay?” she said, as she passed Skye’s bag to Ethan. “I’ll see you back at the apartment later.”
Amber looked frostily at a point somewhere over Skye’s head, but some of the other girls gleefully grabbed Morgan and pulled her away. Amber followed them reluctantly.
Frowning, Skye watched them go, until a sense of being watched herself drew her eyes to the water. In the negligible light she thought she saw ripples of movement on the dark surface beyond the low wash. Her heartbeat accelerated. It looked like more than one shape. More than a few even. Not Hunter then.
A feeling of menace, faint but real, stroked her. Could it be those two guys, Mark and Stevie, with others? She felt sick at the thought. But no, they’d left. Their bus had gone.
She jumped as Morgan called, “Go straight back, no detours.”
Ethan laughed, “Yes Mum.” He held Skye’s bag out to her. “Ready?”
Fuming at being managed, Skye took the bag and spun away.
18. Diversions
Skye strode across the sand towards the apartment. With scuffing thuds Ethan caught her up, and they climbed the stone steps to the street. A welcome echo of warmth trapped in the tarmac during the day rose faintly around her legs. She shrugged off his towel and handed it to him, pulling hers from her bag instead.
“So,” Ethan broke the silence, throwing his towel over his shoulder, “I guess Morgan was a little freaked out when she couldn’t find you. Can’t say I blame her. Looking out for you seems to be a fulltime job. Maybe I should apply?”
Skye shot him a look. His expression became self-conscious, but also determined. “When no one could find you some of the girls started being idiots about it, about what might have happened.” he added, “You know – your mum and all.”
Skye felt like she’d been slapped.
“I mean – superstition is lame,” he continued, “We both know that. But I guess sometimes you have to be, I don’t know, extra careful.”
“You mean in case people think I’m milking my sad story, attention-seeking?” She snapped.
Ethan looked startled. “No! No, that wasn’t –”
“Oh, then you mean in case there’s a curse on me and history repeats itself.”
He dropped his eyes. “Something like that I guess,” he said, looking carefully ahead.
Then he stopped, and Skye automatically halted too.
“What I actually meant was I don’t see any connection myself. No cause for alarm beyond the obvious basics of beach safety. No one wants anyone to drown.” He rubbed his damp head absently for a second. “But people who care about you, who might associate you with danger of a certain kind – part of looking after them is looking after yourself.” He shrugged, “That’s all,” and started walking again.
“Oh.” Skye’s face burned as she followed him. She’d just been politely told off. After a few steps she noted with relief that they’d reached the apartment.
“Well, I guess…thanks? For walking me back,” she muttered.
Ethan shrugged again, “No problem. Hope you feel better. See you later?”
“Uh…sure.”
He grinned. She turned awkwardly away and pushed through the doors, hurrying across the lobby, catching the elevator seconds before its doors closed. Facing forward, she caught sight of Ethan still watching her from the pavement. She gave a small self-conscious wave, and caught his nod in reply just as the doors closed. Shutting her eyes, she leaned against the elevator wall. She felt terrible. She knew she’d overreacted, getting angry, first with Morgan, then with Ethan.
The apartment was full of shadows. Leaving the lights off, she walked to the window and stared out. Everything felt different. Morgan was angry with her. Ethan thought she was selfish. Was he right?
Was she wrong to have come back? But if she hadn’t come she wouldn’t have met Hunter. And if she left… Ethan and Morgan thought she was putting herself at risk by haunting Ciarlan Cove. They were right. But not for the reasons they had, and not because of her close call this afternoon.
Hunter. Skye pressed her hand to her chest as if the feel of her heartbeat could reassure her that it was still hers, still intact. Something had changed today.
She knew she was feeling way too much over far too little. She’d spent barely any time with him. This was infuriating. And crazy. But something had changed. The tide that had turned in her heart when he’d carried her to shore that dummy run day was becoming a Tsunami.
His words whispered through her brain. Find me. She pressed her forehead to the cold glass as if she could pass right through and fly to wherever he was. Whatever mysteries might be out there in the dim, gleaming Bay, she couldn’t leave without finding out more about this charcoal-eyed one.
Motionless, she stared out at the darkening water until at last her shivering sent her the message that she shouldn’t resist hot water and dry clothes any longer. But when she turned from the window, the door opened. Rowena entered, flipping on the light, followed by Morgan.
Seeing Skye, Rowena broke off her animated conversation, smiling. “Oh, Skye love, standing in the dark! Maggie said you’d come back early. Did you have a good time at the beach? You deserve it after all the hard work…” Her smile faltered. “You’re wet. Skye, is everything okay?” She looked at Morgan.
At once Morgan took over, her face carefully bland. “It’s all right Mum, just a slip off the rocks.” She moved past Rowena and took Skye by the shoulders, propelling her towards the bathroom. “I can’t believe you’re still standing around in this state. Move it, lady. Catch a cold and you can write the rest of your holiday off.” They stopped at the bathroom door, and Morgan looked perplexedly at Skye.
“You know, for someone who has so much trouble being in the water, you’re doing an awful lot of it.” Morgan gave a slight twisting shrug as if trying to shift something, and with a grin that looked forced, turned away calling, “Me next. I’ll make us snacks meantime.”
As Skye closed the bathroom door she saw Rowena watching her, eyebrows drawn together. She wished she’d changed before they’d got back. The last thing she wanted was scrutiny. Especially given her age
nda for tomorrow.
Under the shower’s stream of hot water, Skye’s mind at last began to go back over what had happened to her in the Cove. Every detail, every look, every word of the two guys. The terror. She began to shake. Leaning against the wall she sank down onto the shower floor, hugging her legs to her chest, and tried to let the water drumming on her head drum out the memories.
Through the paralysing fear and impotent rage choking her, and the horror of what might have been, she heard Hunter’s words. They won’t ever try to hurt you again.
She had found herself in his arms, not theirs. She’d been protected, held as if she were something precious. He had tenderly tucked her hair behind her ear, his eyes full of something so far removed from what had been in theirs that she had felt completely safe. And something more. As she held his face in her mind, her tremors eased and her rigid limbs relaxed.
Eventually she got to her feet, finished her shower and turned the water off. Wrapping a robe around her she left the bathroom free for Morgan.
Rowena must have sensed something in the air – their late dinner was fast food for once, eaten around the TV. Nothing more was said about the afternoon. Morgan seemed to have called a truce, and put on one of Skye’s favourite cheesy movies while they ate giant slices of pizza from the open box on the teak coffee table.
Morgan and Rowena quietly discussed café plans, occasionally making notes for menu ideas with greasy fingers. It seemed to be the only thing occupying their thoughts, although Skye felt their eyes on her occasionally.
Skye faked complete absorption in the movie, slumping low in her seat, and tried not to let her body betray her restless thoughts about tomorrow. As the movie ended, Rowena said, “Oh, Skye, the new cooker and counters are in at the café, and thanks to Morgan the freezer’s in place, too. That’s the last of the big stuff. We’re happy with where everything is, so…can you do those floor stencils for us? You don’t have anything on tomorrow, do you?”
Skye’s heart sank. “Sure,” she said, trying to sound positive, “no problem.”
Find Me (Immersed Book 1) Page 15
