Page 61 of Bewitched By the Sea Monster
He pursed his lips.
“Really,” I insisted. “I feel fine. Just a little groggy this morning.”
Jackson cut another small sliver off his egg. “You’re sure that’s all it is?”
“Positive.” I plucked my muffin off the plate and tore myself a piece, eating it to prove my point.
“Shit, babe!” Jackson abruptly dropped his fork and lurched across the table, snatching my right wrist and shaking the muffin out of my grasp. “When did you do this?” He turned my hand over, exposing the scrape the rock had gouged into my palm last night.
I wriggled my arm, silently asking him to release me.
He tightened his hold.
“I slipped in the shower.” The brambly lie scraped the top layer off my tongue as it rolled out of my mouth.
“You fell?”
“No. Nothing like that. I just…y’know…” I raised my other hand, miming me bracing myself against the wall. “The tile there’s kinda coarse, so it scraped my hand up.”
His fingers dug into my wrist. “You’re lucky it wasn’t a full fall. Did you get dizzy or something? The shower’s not that slippery, with the mat in there.”
“I’m fine, Jackson. I just slipped.”
Guilt caged my heart between its spindly teeth and bit until the organ gushed blood.
I couldn’t even feel Jackson’s emotions when he released my arm and finished his egg. I was too busy drowning in my own bloody shame.
“You’re sure? Because I don’t know if we can swing another trip to the clinic.”
“We don’t have to.” I forced another bite of muffin down and reached across the table, brushing Jackson’s knuckles. “Honest. I’m okay. I just need some extra coffee, some sugar”—I held up the muffin in acheersgesture—“and maybe some fun, and I’ll be right as rain. So, what’s on the agenda today?”
“Well, I’d wanted to take the boat tour, but that’s already gone. They only run one a day, and only open bookings the day of, so those spots go quick. There’re some other tours, but…” Jackson tapped his fork against his plate. “We’re gonna have to be a bit picky about what we do. That clinic ate such a big chunk of our funds.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault they charge an arm and leg.” Jackson gusted a heavy breath.
But itfeelslike my fault.
If I’d been a better swimmer, or if I’d just put my foot down and said no when the skinny-dipping didn’t feel right, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.
I hated this. How strained we felt, with money bearing down on our shoulders, and guilt and disappointment creating a toxic plume over our heads. Around us, the room was filled with the sound of laughter, as happy tourists stuffed their faces and fervently discussed their plans for the day. But there was no laughter at our table. And seeing dismay creasing Jackson’s brow and forming spindly lines around his mouth hurt my heart.
“Well, how about we just walk around the island today? Do some exploring on our own? It could be fun,” I added when hefrowned. “Melany and Sarah did that yesterday, and they saw all sorts of things.”
“Who?” Jackson asked.
“Melany and Sarah. Our neighbors. The ones I had tea with yesterday.”
“Ah. Yeah. The odd couple.” Jackson chuckled
“I wouldn’t call them that,” I said. “They’re sweet.”
“You thinkeveryoneis sweet. And, don’t get me wrong, I love that about you, and they probably are very nice. I’ll give you that. But they are a bit odd, yeah?”
It was my turn to frown. “What makes them odd, exactly?”
“Well”—Jackson leaned back in his chair—“you know…” He waved his hand.
