Page 34 of September’s Tide (Island Tales #2)

Chapter Twenty-Six

David walked into the living room, doing his damnedest to remain calm.

Clark was sprawled across the sofa, the TV remote in one hand, flipping through channels as though he hadn’t just detonated a landmine in David’s life.

“I take it the twink didn’t die?” he said without looking up, his tone bored.

David crossed the room in three long strides and yanked the remote out of his hand.

“What the fuck did you say to him?”

Clark blinked up at him, his face tightening into a blend of defensiveness and mockery. “Who?”

“Taylor,” David snapped. “You know, the guy upstairs in my bed. And don’t bother lying. You spoke to him yesterday. Then again this morning. What exactly did you say?”

Clark gave a loose shrug. “I don’t know. Something about you coming back to the States with me.” He cocked his head. “Isn’t that the plan?”

“No, Clark. That was your plan. One I never signed up for.” David lowered his voice to something colder and more controlled. “And thanks to your manipulative bullshit, Taylor thought I’d left him. You want to know why he was out there this morning, so far gone he nearly drowned?”

Clark sat up, his cocky edge fading enough to reveal unease. “Don’t put that on me.”

“I am putting it on you,” David growled. “You wanted him gone, so you lied. Told him I was flying out with you. That we were back together. That there was nothing between him and me.”

Clark rolled his eyes. “Jesus, I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it. And you knew damn well what it would do to him.”

Clark stood abruptly, backing up a step. “Oh, come on. You’ve known the guy five minutes. I’ve been there for you for years .”

“No, you’ve been around for years,” David said sharply. “But you were never there , Clark. You were only ever in it for what you could get—sex, leverage, attention.”

Clark’s mouth twisted into something sour. “Right. And I suppose this kid’s some big selfless saint?”

David ignored the jab. That seed of suspicion was now a vine trailing around his heart, squeezing it. He locked gazes with Clark. “How did you know about the movie deal?”

Clark flinched, then recovered quickly. “What movie deal?” He feigned innocence, but the damage was done.

He knew. The bastard knew .

“You told Taylor this morning that you and I were always going back one way or another.” He folded his arms. “You knew about Amazon turning my books into a movie franchise, didn’t you? You knew it before I knew.” David took a step forward, his anger rising a notch. “How, Clark?”

Clark hesitated, but only for a second. “Maybe you mentioned it in passing.”

“I didn’t. My agent just told me on the phone, while I was upstairs with Taylor.”

Silence.

“Tell me how you knew, Clark.” Another notch higher.

Clark clenched his jaw. “I wanted to know what was going on, that was all.”

David’s stomach churned. “You hacked my email.” It was the only explanation.

Clark didn’t bother to deny it. “You stopped answering. What was I supposed to do?” He glared at David. “You shut me out!”

“So you hacked my fucking email ?” David’s voice cracked like a whip. “That’s how you knew Amazon was interested in buying the rights. That’s why you showed up here. You didn’t come for me —you came for the money.”

Clark curled his lip. “Don’t pretend that isn’t why you’re starting to write again. Don’t pretend this deal doesn’t change everything.”

“You’re a goddamn liar!” David moved faster than he’d intended. He grabbed Clark’s shirt and slammed him back against the window, the glass rattling. “Say one more thing like that. Go on.”

Clark’s eyes widened. “You’re hurting me!”

“You don’t know what hurt is,” David ground out. “But if you ever speak to Taylor again— ever —you’ll find out. Not that you’re gonna get the chance, because you’re leaving. Right now.”

Clark shoved weakly at David’s chest. “What, you’re throwing me out?”

David released him with a shove and stepped back, his breathing tight. “Yes, I’m done. Pack your shit and get out.”

Clark straightened his shirt, his eyes narrowing. “You’re really choosing him over me?”

David didn’t flinch. “Every single fucking time.”

Clark’s face went cold. “Fine. I’ll go. Don’t call me when he breaks your heart.”

David didn’t answer.

He stood in the hallway as Clark stomped around the bedroom, throwing things haphazardly into his overnight bag, slamming drawers and muttering curses under his breath. He stormed past David, pushing him into the wall as he headed for the kitchen door.

It slammed behind him with a violent crack, and the echo rolled through the house like a warning shot.

Then silence.

David let it settle around him, his hand still clenched where he’d held Clark’s shirt.

The only thing left was the faint sound of waves, rising and falling like a breath.

But the weight in his chest didn’t ease.

Taylor lay nestled beneath the covers, his head propped against the pillows, straining to catch the sounds drifting up the stairs. Voices, low at first, then sharper, David’s raw with fury.

Taylor winced. He didn’t need to catch every word to know exactly who that fury was aimed at.

He reached up and touched the cut on his forehead, hissing softly at the sting. Stupid. He should’ve known better than to hit the water in that state. But last night, none of his decisions had come from a place of logic. He’d been angry, hurt, confused, and stupidly reckless.

If David hadn’t seen me…

The thought constricted his chest, and he didn’t want to follow it to its logical end. Instead, his mind fixated on David diving into the sea without hesitation, dragging him back like some furious, sodden angel.

My hero, he thought with a breathy, disbelieving laugh. Shane’s going to rip me a new one when he hears about this.

Another crash of voices floated up the stairs, David’s again, furious and unrelenting, and Clark’s reedy tone in reply, all sulk and spineless protest. Taylor didn’t need to decipher the words.

The sound alone was enough. Clark had lied.

And David… he didn’t even need to say it.

Everything in the way he’d looked at Taylor told him exactly where his heart was.

The crack of David’s voice, loud and clear, rose above the sound of the waves.

“You’re a goddamn liar!” Then the house shook.

Taylor jolted upright. Are they fighting? As in physically?

He pushed the sheets aside and swung his legs off the bed, groaning as a fresh wave of ache washed over him. He reached for the nearest shirt—David’s, soft and oversized—and tugged it on, half-balancing against the dresser. His limbs felt like lead, but staying up here, helpless, was worse.

He was halfway into the shirt when he heard footsteps on the stairs, light and steady. David’s voice rang out a moment later.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Taylor froze, caught in mid-motion, one arm through the sleeve. David stood at the top of the stairs, just the faintest curve of a smile playing on his lips, not a bruise or scratch on him.

David’s eyebrows shot up, and amusement danced in those gorgeous eyes. “You checking me for damage? Because I could probably give you a full inventory if you’re interested.”

Taylor sank onto the edge of the bed and expelled a sigh of relief. “I got worried,” he mumbled, his cheeks warm.

David crossed the room and sat beside him, their knees brushing. He took Taylor’s hands in his, running his thumbs across the knuckles.

“How are you feeling?”

Taylor gave him a wry smile. “Like I went ten rounds with a brick wall. But I’ll live.”

David’s gaze softened, then drifted toward the windows. “Clark’s gone.”

Taylor blinked. “Wait—really?”

David nodded. “I told him to pack his shit and get the hell out.” He paused.

“I think… I think he only came because of the studio news. He wanted to ride the wave, be seen next to the ‘rising star.’ He didn’t even try very hard to deny it, just came out with more bullshit, more evasion.

” He snorted bitterly. “Guess I kept hoping I’d been wrong about him. Turns out I wasn’t.”

There was pain in his voice, buried under anger, and Taylor hated that it had to be there.

He reached up and cupped David’s cheek. “You weren’t wrong because you’re na?ve, David. You were wrong because you give people the benefit of the doubt. That doesn’t make you foolish—it makes you good. ” He hesitated, his pulse quickening. “And for the record… I only fall for good men.”

The words hung in the air between them, Taylor hardly daring to breathe.

David’s eyes searched his, wide and a little stunned. Then slowly, as though the meaning of it all was still sinking in, he smiled.

“Well, that’s reassuring,” he murmured. “Because apparently I’ve fallen for a good man too.”

The time stopped as his lips brushed against Taylor’s in a tender, sweet kiss. Taylor melted into it, the gentleness of it, the promise buried beneath. The kind of kiss that said, I see you. I’m here.

When they parted, David lay back on the bed, pulling Taylor against him. Taylor rested his head over David’s heart, letting its steady beat anchor him.

“Are you still going on Monday?” he asked in a quiet voice.

David nodded, and Taylor’s chest ached.

“Juliet’s setting up meetings with producers in LA. I fly Tuesday. It’s going to be a whirlwind.” He laughed softly. “Jet lag and boardrooms and God knows what else.”

Taylor let out a shaky breath. “It’s incredible. And exhausting. And amazing.” He tilted his face upward. “You’ll kill it. You’ll walk into those rooms, and they won’t know what hit them.”

David stroked Taylor’s back, his touch firm and reassuring. “We’ve got four days left,” he said. “Can I be selfish and ask for all of them?”

Taylor didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Please.”

“I don’t care where we sleep,” David whispered. “Just as long as we’re in the same bed.”

Taylor kissed him, the connection tender and full of longing. He could hear the countdown ticking away in the back of his mind, but he ignored it.

Don’t think about Monday.

Live for now.

Somewhere, under all that warmth and ache and love, Taylor swore he heard his mum’s voice, proud and quiet.

That’s my boy.