Page 20 of Property of Anchor

Pearl.

She stepped out onto the porch, wearing a loose sweatshirt and a heavy blanket slung around her shoulders.A big mug cradled in her hands.Her legs were tucked under her as she settled into the porch chair, bare toes peeking out from under the fleece.

I leaned forward slightly in my seat and watched her.

She looked peaceful.Like she belonged there.

Like maybe, if I walked over, sat next to her, and talked to her, she wouldn’t tell me to fuck off.

There was always a chill at night on Skull Island.Especially this close to the water.And especially when you were alone.

Maybe I should go see her.Check on her.

Just for a minute.

Just to make sure she was okay.

Pearl

The porch creaked softly as I shifted in the chair and tucked one leg underneath me.The blanket wrapped around my shoulders wasn’t doing much to keep the chill off, but I didn’t care.I liked it out here.Liked the quiet hum of Skull Island at night.

Even now, I could hear faint echoes from the haunted house in the distance: low moans piped through hidden speakers, the occasional shriek of laughter or surprise from a guest.Fog machines hissed somewhere beyond the trees.The air smelled like damp wood, salt, and smoke, and every now and then, a gust of wind swept through the trees and made the porch boards groan like the cabin itself was waking up.

It was just past nine, but it felt later.Probably because Bernice had already gone to bed nearly an hour ago, muttering something about “no good ever happening after sundown.”Not that that stopped me from staying awake.I’d considered taking a walk and maybe checking out the tour path just to see what all the fuss was about, but the warmth of the mug in my hands and the way the night wrapped around the island like a heavy quilt had rooted me here.

I let out a soft sigh and leaned back in the chair.Out here, away from town and streetlights, the night sky was huge.Endless.It made you feel like you were part of something wild.Something forgotten.

Movement to my left caught my eye.

I didn’t jump.Didn’t flinch.But my heart kicked up a notch asAnchorstepped out of the trees and into the clearing between the cabins.

God help me.

He moved like a shadow with purpose, dark jeans, boots, a black hoodie half-zipped to reveal the collar of a worn tee beneath.His sleeves were shoved up just enough to flash the edges of tattoos running along his forearms.Hands in his pockets.Club patch on his chest.

Calm.

Watchful.

Dangerous.

He was walking toward me, his eyes already on mine.Even from here, I could feel his stare.

My pulse thudded.Low.Heavy.

He stopped just shy of the porch, leaned casually against one of the support beams, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What you thinking about, doll?”he asked, his voice low and rough with the edge of a smirk behind it.

I blinked.“What?”

He nodded toward me.“You had that glazed-over, faraway look.What was it?Ghosts?Paint colors?Or how to hide a body?”

Heat shot to my cheeks.“Uh...I was, um, thinking about the difference between moss and seaweed.”

He arched one brow.

“I mean,” I added quickly, “the colors.They’re alike but not.”I had really been thinking about which one was the color of his eyes.