Page 6 of September’s Tide (Island Tales #2)

At that moment the heavens opened, and the rain hit the plastic sheeting above David’s head with an almighty crash, sounding like dried peas being poured onto a drum from a great height.

“What in the hell was that?” Michael sounded shocked.

“That would be rain,” David said gloomily.

“The same rain that’s been pouring down for the last two goddamn days.

” He glanced out at the heavy sky and the sea the colour of molten lead.

“I can’t believe she sent me here.” Any pleasure he’d derived from his initial impressions of the cove had long since dissipated.

The weather had seen to that.

“Hold on a minute.” David heard Michael’s fingers tapping away on his keyboard.

After a moment, he spoke. “Wow, you weren’t kidding, were you?

You really are at the ass-end of nowhere.

Juliet must hate your guts.” There followed more tapping.

“Okay, hang tight, babe. The weather’s due to change by tomorrow, according to the forecast I’m reading. ”

“Really?” David looked doubtfully at the view before him.

“Uh-huh. And when it does, I advise you to make the most of it. You needed a break.”

David let out a tired sigh. “And what exactly do you suggest I do while I’m here? ’Cause the writing certainly seems to have dried up.” That feeling of panic resurfaced, tightening his chest. His throat closed up.

I am not gonna let this get to me .

David took a deep breath, trying to force more air into his lungs.

“Go exploring,” Michael suggested. “It looks like it’s a beautiful place. See as much of it as you can. Get drunk.” There was the minutest pause. “Get laid.” He snickered. “Unless English guys are too fugly for ya?”

David snorted. “Getting laid is the last thing on my mind.” ’ Cept that’s not strictly true, is it ?

“Besides, it’s too soon after….” His voice faltered.

He couldn’t bring himself to say the name.

Clark had been on his mind a lot in the last two days.

David blamed Taylor. It was all the fault of the hot guy who’d got him all riled up.

Well, he had to blame it on someone .

“David?” He couldn’t miss the note of hesitation in Michael’s voice. “Do… do you think you made the right decision throwing Clark out?”

David stared at the phone in silence.

What. The. Fuck?

“David?”

At last David found his voice. “How can you even ask me that?” He spoke in a low tone. “You know what he did. Hell, you’ve been hearing the same stories I have, for Christ’s sake.”

“Sure, but how do you know the stories were true?”

David grimaced. “When everyone starts telling me the same thing, it’s kinda hard to ignore the big picture. Besides, coming home and finding him in bed with that Miguel guy was pretty unequivocal, wouldn’t you say?”

It seemed Michael wasn’t about to give up. “We all make mistakes, David. I know I’ve made a few doozies in the past. But I’ve talked with Clark.”

He froze. “You did what?” He struggled to keep his voice low. “When?”

“Last week. He says he tried to talk to you, to apologize, but you threw him out.”

David was beyond incensed. “What the fuck did you expect me to do? He was dicking that guy in our fucking bed !” He was shaking. He looked around quickly, checking no one had heard his outburst.

“Yeah, but it was the first time he’d ever cheated on you,” Michael persisted.

“Yeah? Is that what he told you?” The words came out as a growl.

“Okay, okay, take it easy.” Michael’s voice took on a soothing quality. “I just thought maybe you acted a little… hastily, that’s all, and that you might have reconsidered, you know, maybe thought better of it, maybe even thought you’d made a mistake.”

David didn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Since when did you become Clark’s number one fan?

I seem to recall you advising me to dump the bastard, along with the rest of them.

” He bristled. The nerve of the man. “Sorry, Michael, but I’ve had it with this conversation.

” His stomach was like iron. “Congratulations. I didn’t think I could feel any more pissed off than I already did, but fuck, you managed to push it to a whole new level.

” He took a deep breath. “Do me a favour. Don’t call me again, all right?

For the rest of September. It’s gonna take me that long to calm down from this.

” And with that he disconnected the call.

He dropped the phone onto the table as though it had scalded him, staring at it as if it might come back to life and inflict yet more pain.

His whole body was strung tight, every nerve pulled taut beneath skin that suddenly felt too hot.

Heat crawled up his neck, pulsed in his face, and throbbed behind his eyes.

His jaw ached. He hadn’t even realized he’d been clenching it until a sharp jolt of pain reminded him. His hands were trembling.

What the hell just happened?

He wanted to scream. Or cry. Or throw the goddamn phone across the café. Instead, he sat there, staring at the device as if it had betrayed him too. He felt hollowed out, burnt on the inside by the rage that had surged through him, and now left shaking in the wreckage.

Michael. What the everlovin’ fuck ?

Of all people. Michael. His friend, his confidant. The one person who’d stood by him when the whole thing with Clark imploded.

Or so he’d thought.

A sick twist settled in his gut.

Why would Michael defend Clark like that? Unless ? —

No. No, no. That was paranoid.

Wasn’t it?

But the thought was already slithering its way into his brain, filling his ears with a venomous whisper.

Maybe Michael’s not as loyal as you thought. Maybe he’s been talking to Clark for longer than a week. Maybe he’s not just defending him—maybe he’s covering for him.

David swore under his breath and shoved the thought away. But it lingered, coiled and waiting.

He took a sip of his coffee, though it might as well have been mud for all he could taste. The warmth did nothing to ease the chill that had begun to creep through his bones. The carrot cake sat on its plate, forgotten.

His mind was unravelling, thread by thread, as logic gave way to emotion. Anger was crumbling into something more dangerous: doubt.

Was I too hasty?

Was one mistake really enough to throw everything away?

Five months. Five months alone. Five months of silence, of empty nights and colder mornings. Was it really justice, or had it been punishment, self-inflicted and absolute?

He thought back to the night Clark had betrayed him, replayed it the way he had a thousand times already. The shock. The disgust. The white-hot rage. But now it felt murky, blurred by time and pain and isolation. His memories were like cracked glass: distorted, fragile, hard to trust.

He tried to recall what his friends had said afterward. The warnings. The sympathy. But even their voices felt distant now, like echoes in a fog. Were they protecting him… or fuelling his anger? Had he wanted them to confirm what he already believed, so he wouldn’t have to question it?

His temples throbbed. His thoughts spun faster. He was chasing his own tail, dizzy with uncertainty.

You’re gonna drive yourself mad at this rate. For God’s sake, let it go.

You made your decision. And it was the right one. You know it was.

He latched onto that voice in his head like a lifeline, but even it didn’t sound so sure anymore.

Was it the right one?

He buried his face in his hands and let out a long, shaky breath.

He didn’t know. God help him, he didn’t know.