“How did you get these cuts on your hands, babe?”I muttered in the best Jackson impression I could muster while my voice was shaking. “Well, you know, Jackson…I was climbing around the cliffs in the dead of night to go meet the Loch Ness Monster in secret, instead of staying in bed with you where I belong. Why? Because I’m anidiot,apparently.”
My stomach churned as I plucked little pebbles off my palm and did my best to wipe off the worst of the blood—thank all the stars I’d had the foresight to wear my lone pair of black jeans.
And it was my nerves, for sure, that had me so frazzled and miserable. Because only a few spindly layers of craggy stoneseparated me from the whooshing ocean below. And any time I was this close to the sea, getting suffocated by the brine, I wasn’t a happy camper.
But guilt also chewed at me because I hadn’t told Jackson about Alistair, and I didn’t knowwhy.I’d started to. Several times, during lunch, while we’d perused the little gift mart, when we’d wandered by to stare longingly at the exorbitantly expensive spa, and when we’d settled in for dinner. But I’d never actually gotten the words out. And I should have.
It was wrong. To be here, while Jackson slept unaware.
It was wrong tobe herein general. Especially when the fine print in the brochure stated:
“Many of our cottages border the inlet, and although it may be tempting to dip your toes into the water while the tide is out, we heavily caution against doing so. Tides around the isle can be unpredictable—the sea does not have a mind to be gentle to our esteemed guests, no matter how much we wish it so. There are paths winding down the cliff face, should you like to brave a closer look at the waters, but be wary—these paths are not so easily trodden, and Niverwick Isle is not liable for any damages to person or property from any of our island attractions or on our grounds.”
Which, the short explanation meant:It’s dangerous. If you don’t want to take our word for it, that’s cool. But just know you can’t sue us if you die.
Sweat creepy-crawled down my chest and congregated in a big, sticky vat beneath my breasts. It made me itch, especially when the fine, silken material of my red and gold blouse plastered itself to my wet skin. I fanned my non-bleeding hand in front of my face, getting at leastsomeair moving. But gosh, it was humid tonight.
Or maybe my anxiety was radiating me from the inside out.
Or maybe it was a bit of both.
ROAR!
SMACK!
HISS!
Mist splattered over me as a wave pummeled the cliffs with enough force to rattle the ground beneath my butt.
I jolted and, for a terrifying moment, the world teetered sideways on me.
My bleeding hand pulsed with pain when I braced it on the ground, trying to keep my upper body from wilting beneath the vertigo.
It won’t come up this high. You’re fine. Even if it does, you can climb higher.
You already made it down, you can make it back up.
Pain lanced my chest.Breathe!
A sluggish breeze tickled my cheeks but offered no relief from the moist heat. Isworeit’d not been this hot before. Muggy, sure. But not unbearably so. Not until now.
Maybe I took a nosedive off the cliffs, and I’m already dead. And got chucked into Hell for arranging a secret rendezvous behind my boyfriend’s back.
Gosh, wouldn’t that be a nightmare? An eternity spent in the fog, dangling just above the jaws of the sea.
My swallow felt more like an involuntary spasm.
“Pippi?”
I screamed when that accented voice blanketed itself over my brain.
“I’m sorry!” Alistair said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to s-scare you.”
“It’s…You didn’t. I’m just…” I peered into the dark, barely making out the undulating outline of the water below. “You’re down there, right? Or, I guess you wouldn’t have to be that close, for your…would we call it telepathy? The way you speak to me? Oh, I guess it doesn’t matter. You probably can’t even hear me.”
“I can. Hear you.”
I squinted again, and the shape of the curdling sea was a little clearer, with my eyes adjusting to the gloom, but Alistair’s behemoth outline was nowhere to be seen.