Page 32 of September’s Tide (Island Tales #2)

Chapter Twenty-Four

The sharp knock at the front door had Taylor running down the stairs, his heart tripping over itself before he could tell it to calm the hell down.

He flung the door open, and deflated an instant later.

“Hey.”

His brother stood on the porch, hand still raised mid-knock, his eyebrows arched in amusement. “Well, someone looks thrilled to see me.”

Taylor stepped aside. “Sorry. Come in.” He gave the Lighthouse a cursory glance before shutting the door behind them.

You’ve got to stop doing that. It won’t change anything.

Brian greeted him with a smirk. “Let me guess. You haven’t checked your texts.”

Taylor rubbed a hand across his forehead. “My phone’s been off.” He’d given up watching for messages from David and had shut it down.

Brian shrugged. “That explains the radio silence, then. I messaged to say I was swinging by to grab that box of DVDs I left here.”

“Oh. Right. They’re upstairs. I’ll get them.

” He climbed the stairs slowly, his joints stiff from having slept in the recliner all night.

The bedroom was chilly, the faint smell of yesterday’s herbs still clinging to his clothes.

He found the box tucked behind a pile of winter coats and carried it back down.

Brian was waiting in the living room, still grinning as if he had some huge secret. “Cheers, mate,” he said, taking the box and popping the lid. He rifled through the plastic cases. “You must be buzzing.”

Taylor blinked. “About what?”

Brian froze, then stared up at him incredulously. He gave a low whistle. “You really don’t know, do you? Stupid question. Of course you don’t. If you did, you’d have been on the phone to crow about it.”

“Crow about what?” Taylor frowned. “You’re being cryptic, and it’s way too early for that.”

Brian walked over to the bookshelves and plucked a paperback from one of them. He held it up for Taylor to see. “James Blanchette ring a bell? You know, your all-time favourite author?”

Taylor’s pulse quickened. “What about him?”

“You know those little five-minute entertainment thingies they put on TV between programmes? Where they talk about celebrities, awards, upcoming films…”

Taylor nodded.

“I don’t normally watch them, but last night one of the headlines caught my eye.

It turns out someone in Hollywood finally came to their senses.

There’s this huge buzz all over the internet.

Amazon has snapped up the Ed Manning series.

They’re talking blockbuster franchise.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“They’ve already started the dream-casting stuff online.

It’s everywhere. So far there’s talk of Denzel Washington and Matthew McConaughey being up for the lead role. ”

Taylor stared at him, stunned. “Seriously?”

Brian gave him a look. “Deadly. I figured you’d have been cartwheeling down the beach by now. How could you miss something that big?”

Taylor’s thoughts whirled. David’s world was about to change.

Again.

His chest swelled with pride, before it cracked with something else.

He didn’t come last night. He didn’t explain. He didn’t call.

Brian’s voice cut into the silence. “Hey. You all right?”

Taylor tried for a smile. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Brian gave him a long, level look. “You’re crap at lying.”

Taylor exhaled. “I just can’t get into it right now, okay?”

“I hear ya.” Brian stepped forward and pulled Taylor into a tight hug. “Anytime you need to bend my ear, you know where I am.” His lips twitched. “And hopefully, it won’t be still under Mum and Dad’s roof.”

Taylor closed his eyes briefly, then nodded. “Thanks, Bri.”

Brian’s hand was warm against Taylor’s cheek. “Take care of yourself, little brother.” He hoisted the box up in the crook of his arm and moved out into the hallway. At the threshold, he paused, gave Taylor one last glance, sharper than before, then stepped out into the morning light.

Taylor watched him descend the ramp, his silhouette cutting through the early haze. Just before Brian turned left to climb the steps up to Love Lane, he raised a hand in farewell.

Taylor managed a small wave back. Once Brian was out of sight, he stared across the cove. The Lighthouse glowed faintly in the morning sun, its windows glinting. Despite the knot in his stomach and the weight pressing behind his ribs, Taylor smiled faintly to himself.

David’s going to be huge.

Taylor couldn’t pretend he wasn’t happy for him. David deserved this.

Then maybe you should tell him that. In person.

Except David was MIA. And then there was Clark.

Taylor knew what David thought of Clark. He knew what had been said, what hadn’t. Clark was history. So what if he’d seen Clark hug David and follow him into the house? So what if neither of them had emerged since?

Taylor wanted to believe it meant nothing. That David had told the truth. That Clark showing up was just some strange, ill-timed footnote.

And yet....

He hadn’t heard a word since. No text, no knock on his door, no anything . The Lighthouse had stayed dark.

No explanation. No movement. No Clark either.

And that was what twisted Taylor’s gut the most, the not knowing , not being invited in.

I can be the bigger man in this scenario. I can be gracious. David had his big break. Maybe this was where the chapter ended for them.

Maybe this is my closure.

Taylor locked the front door and headed up the path to the Lighthouse. The early morning light danced across the rippling waves, but it felt cold on his skin.

He climbed the steps and stepped onto the deck. The door was closed, and he lifted a hand to knock.

The bifold window slid open.

Clark stood in the frame, shirtless, a mug of coffee in his hand. “Well,” he said, quirking a brow. “The helpful local from yesterday. This is unexpected.”

Taylor blinked. “Hi. Um—I was hoping to see David. Just to congratulate him. I heard about the film deal.”

Clark’s mouth curved faintly, but it wasn’t a smile, merely a reaction. “News travels fast.”

Taylor nodded, trying not to look past him into the house but Clark blocked his view. The sound of running water upstairs carried through an open window.

“He’s in the shower.” Then, after a beat, he added, “I’ll let him know you stopped by.”

His tone wasn’t unkind, but it made Taylor pause. It had the finality of a hotel receptionist telling you checkout was at noon.

He shrugged. “I could wait, if that’s okay. It won’t take long.”

Clark sipped his coffee. “Now is not the best time. We’ve got a lot to sort out before flying home.”

Taylor froze. “Flying?”

Clark nodded. “Yeah, we’re going home to the States tonight. It was time.” He tilted his head. “But I’ll pass on your message. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

He frowned. “You’re going back… together?”

Clark held his gaze. “We were always going to, one way or another.”

Taylor’s stomach plummeted, not from jealousy but from the sudden, icy flood of doubt. Not because he thought David had lied, but because he didn’t know what to believe anymore.

“If David didn’t tell you about me,” Clark said in a gentle tone, “maybe that tells you all you need to know.”

Taylor didn’t respond. He couldn’t . Clark slid the window closed, soft and final, leaving only Taylor’s reflection staring back at him in the glass.

He stood there for another beat, his heart thudding in his ears. Then he turned and walked away, slow and stiff-legged, the pebbles working their way into his flip-flops, stabbing the soles of his feet.

By the time he reached the house, the confusion had calcified into something sharper.

Not heartbreak— not yet —but something just as destabilizing.

Uncertainty. Powerlessness.

The surfboard waited by the door like an invitation, or maybe a challenge.

Taylor removed his sweater and grabbed his wetsuit that hung on the newel post at the foot of the stairs. He squirmed into it, his fingers shaking more than they should have.

The sea didn’t need things to make sense. It just took what you gave it.

And right now, Taylor had more than enough to surrender to it.

David watched Taylor walk down the boat ramp, his surfboard tucked under one arm, the wetsuit clinging to his frame like armour.

The board skimmed the sand, then the foam, and then he was in, paddling out toward the break, his muscles flexing, his hair catching the wind.

From here, he looked so confident. So sure.

David’s stomach churned. He hadn’t replied to Taylor’s last message. In fact, he hadn’t messaged Taylor at all, not last night, not this morning.

Because what could I say? ‘ Sorry I ghosted you when I knew you were waiting? Sorry Clark showed up and everything in my brain short-circuited? Sorry I didn’t tell you he was even coming, which I couldn’t have done anyway, because I didn’t have a fucking clue?’

He hadn’t meant for it to go this way.

I should’ve walked out of here and up to his front door. God knew he’d thought about doing just that enough times, but the moment kept slipping away. And now?—

“You were sleeping with him, weren’t you?” Clark’s voice came from behind him, deceptively mild, but with that sharp edge David knew too well.

David didn’t turn his head. He didn’t bother to answer.

“The guy out there on a board. Is he why you were distracted last night?”

David’s jaw tensed, his hand pressed against the glass. He watched Taylor paddle farther out than usual. His form looked good, but it wasn’t sharp. David had seen him surf enough times to recognise the lag in his rhythm.

He’s tired . Or something’s wrong.

Clark cleared his throat, and David was done.

“I’m not doing this with you, Clark,” David said, his voice flat. “You’ve got a flight to catch, remember?”

Clark let out a slow sigh and set his coffee down with a loud clink, a small theatrical flourish David didn’t miss.

“You could at least have had the decency to end it before I flew halfway across the world.”

David turned around and gaped at him. “Did you suddenly suffer from a lapse of memory? I ended it five months ago. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice. There was nothing ambiguous about me throwing you out on your ear.”

“Of course I noticed,” Clark murmured, his tone more brittle. “I just didn’t want to believe it. I know you still love me. You can’t kill those kinds of feelings.”

David didn’t respond. His gaze drifted back to the waves.

Taylor was moving again, waiting, repositioning, but with an air of hesitation.

You should’ve messaged him last night. You should’ve explained.

But Taylor had said nothing either.

He probably didn’t want to be the one to chase.

“He doesn’t look old enough to know what he wants,” Clark said after a beat.

David exhaled slowly through his nose. “And yet he does.”

His throat tightened.

Because Taylor did know what he wanted. Taylor had put his heart on the line. He’d cooked him dinner, he’d waited, he’d made space for him in a way David still couldn’t quite believe.

And what had David done?

I fucking froze .

He wasn’t used to someone like Taylor. Someone kind, open, hopeful. Someone who believed things could work.

David had spent two years with Clark, surrounded by power plays and snide remarks and emotional sleight of hand he’d only recognised once it was all over.

And now, even as Clark stood behind him, smug and shirtless, the picture of misplaced entitlement, David still hadn’t opened that damn door, strode onto the beach, and yelled for Taylor to come on in so David could tell him what an ass he’d been.

So I could apologise and ask him to forgive me.

His eyes narrowed as Taylor caught a big wave, angling into it. But something was off. He misjudged the drop, wobbled, recovered, then slipped again.

Unease bloomed in David’s chest. Get out of the water.

Clark said something else behind him, but David wasn’t listening anymore. He leaned in, both palms pressed to the glass.

Taylor was too far out. And something was definitely wrong.

Clark was still talking. “You locked me out of your room last night. Is this what it’s come to? Sulking in silence while you moon over some beach kid?—”

“Clark.” David’s voice was sharp. “Go. Pack. I’ll call a cab if you need it.”

He slid the window open and stepped outside into the cool salt air without waiting for an answer. He didn’t hear the rest of Clark’s reply, because right then, Taylor vanished beneath a crashing wall of water.

Fuck .