Page 27

TWENTY SIX

Noah

I ride to the top of the cliff looking over the ocean and hurl my phone into the sea so I can’t call her—can’t call her. I won’t let myself be sucked into this shitstorm.

Only I can’t sleep that night or the next without her. At two in the morning on the second night, when I’m ready to claw my eyes out, I finally stop to wonder how a few nights spent with her in my arms have made her as necessary to me as fucking water.

I’m so mad by the time I drag myself out of bed and onto my bike at three in the morning that I nearly crash the fucking thing into the lamp post in my apartment complex, and I’m so tired I hardly know how I make it to the bed and breakfast on the hill.

I storm up the steps to the top floor with no regard for the time of night or for the other guests who are probably sleeping. Then I pound my fist on Olivia’s door. “Olivia! It’s me. I need to talk to you.”

She doesn’t fucking answer.

I try again, ramming my fist against the wood. “Olivia! Would you open this fucking door?”

A light flicks on downstairs. I see a curtain twitch in the room next door.

“Olivia, I’m sorry, OK? I fucked up. Could you just come out here and talk to me?”

“Noah Wilson, is that you?”

I spin to find Mr. Nguyen, the owner of the bed and breakfast, standing at the top of the stairs wrapped in a tartan robe and glaring at me.

“Oh fuck off,” I mutter under my breath. Then turn back to the door. “Olivia!”

“She left today.” Mr. Nguyen clearly did not fuck off. In fact, he’s come over to where I’m standing. “You’re out of luck. And you should know better than to talk to me like that, son. I was there at your high school graduation.”

I shake off the little twinge of guilt that tugs at me. He’s right. I should have a bit more respect. But damn it, desperate times. “What do you mean she left?”

Mr. Nguyen shakes his head sadly. “Noah, how much have you had to drink? She checked out. She’s gone. Got the bus back to Sydney this morning.”

“The fuck she has.” I brush past him, heading for the stairs. I’m not even sure I know where I’m going, but if Olivia isn’t here, I’ve no reason to stay.

“Not so fast!” The jangle of keys makes me turn to find Mr. Nguyen standing there waving my keys at me.

“What the fuck?”

He yanks them away when I reach for them. Tricky old bastard must have snatched them from my pocket as I went past. “You’re not driving in this condition. You come downstairs and have a cup of coffee and sober up.”

I drag my hand over my face. “I’m not drunk.”

He scoffs. “That’s what you said last time you had a few too many in the pub, but I could never forgive myself if I let Rob’s boy drive drunk.”

“I’m not—” I cut myself off with a groan. He’ll never believe me. “Whatever. Keep them. I’ll walk.”

Mr. Nguyen chases me down the stairs as I stalk from the bed and breakfast past my useless bike. “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

“Fuck knows. To get some sleep I guess.”

“No. You turn around right now, young man, or I will call the Inlet Views and wake your parents.”

I roll my eyes. “Go ahead. They’re still in Sydney.”

“Noah Wilson!”

I ignore his shouts, shoving my hands in my pockets and taking a left at McPherson Road.

He obviously isn’t that serious since he doesn’t follow me beyond the carpark.

What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Olivia is gone and I don’t even know how to find her again.

I can’t let myself think about the baby—if there is one. It scares me too much.

Right now the only thought rolling in my head like seaweed in a rough sea is the thought that I’ve lost her.

I’ve fucked it up.

I acted like an absolute ass and got exactly what I deserved.

I’m so wrapped up in my self-absorbed thoughts that I hardly notice the car driving up the road until I’m caught in the headlights full on, blinking into the sudden brightness.

The car stops. A door opens.

I throw my forearm over my eyes, cursing whatever dickhead thought it’d be a good idea to stop and taunt me.

“Get in you fuck nugget. Don’t make me stand around here in the dark all night.”

I blink. “Jack?”

“Yeah, who else do you think would bother to drive down here at three in the goddamn morning to pick you up and make sure you get home safe? Mum and Dad are out of town, remember?”

I don’t even fight him. After the last few days, I’ve come to terms a little better with Jack’s overbearing fuckery. I stomp to the passenger side and get in.

A moment later Jack sits next to me behind the wheel and gives me a look. “I thought that would be harder. Who are you and what have you done with my idiot brother?”

I just roll my eyes and fasten my seatbelt. “Can we go back to Inlet Views? I think I need to be underwater.” I let my head thunk back against the headrest and shut my eyes.

I’m so tired. I don’t even know if being submerged will work, but beyond having Olivia in my arms, it’s the only thing I haven’t tried.

After a long silence where nothing happens, I glance around to find him watching me. “What?”

“What happened?” Jack whispers the words as if he’s afraid I’ll bite his head off, and to be fair, the old me would have.

This new, odd version of me doesn’t want to, though. I can’t even imagine mustering the energy to raise a fist. I just sigh. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Jack makes a satisfied hmph and releases the handbrake. “That’s more like it. Now how much did you drink and do you think you need a spew bucket, because I did bring one.”

“I didn’t.”

“Huh?”

“I wasn’t drinking asswipe. Mr. Nguyen just made that up because I was shouting in the middle of the night.”

Jack pulls off McPherson Road and onto Cliff Drive. “And why were you shouting at Mr. Nguyen in the middle of the night, Noah?”

“I wasn’t shouting at Mr. Nguyen. I was shouting at Olivia. At least I thought I was, but she’s gone.” Something embarrassing happens then. My throat gets all tight and I suddenly have to stare hard out the passenger window so Jack won’t see the tears that prick my eyes.

Jack makes a low whistle. “Well fuck me.”

I don’t have to look to know there’s a highly irritating smug look on his face. I don’t, because so far he’s been pretty nice about this whole thing, and I don’t want to start shit.

“Hey,” he says eventually. “You OK?” His hand falls gently onto my shoulder, and I duck my head.

“Yeah. No. I don’t know.”

There’s a drawn-out silence, but it’s not sullen or tense. It’s me trying to man up enough to talk to him without actually crying.

“No,” I say eventually.

He stops the car in the carpark outside the Inlet Views and switches off the engine.

I cough. “She’s fucking gone, Jack, and I fucked it up and now I’ll never know if—”

To his credit, he doesn’t interrupt and doesn’t push for me to finish the sentence. He doesn’t even say I told you so.

“It’s been two days man, and I feel like I’m broken in half. What the fuck is that about anyway?”

“Is she your—”

“Don’t say it.” I hold up my hand. “Don’t even say it. That shit is all just wives’ tales and bullshit your grandparents spin you.”

Jack scoffs. “You moron. Have you seen how brightly Dad still glows for Mum? You think that’s bullshit?”

I don’t answer him.

After a while he whistles again. “Then she is your fated mate.”

“It’s not that. I mean it is, but it’s not just that. I didn’t want to fall…” I swallow, afraid to say the words. “I didn’t want to fall for her, but I couldn’t help it. It’s her. She’s just… She’s something else.”

Jack nods. “I wish I had an answer.”

“Thanks.”

There’s a pause. After a while, Jack pats my arm. “Try to get some sleep, OK? Want me to come down with you or leave you alone?”

I give him a sheepish look. “Come with.”

Jack opens the door, and as he’s getting out of the car, I blurt, “Thank you.”

He actually bends and sticks his head back in the car to grin at me. “Oh, you’ve got it bad, huh?”

He’s still laughing when I get out and shut the passenger door, scowling at him. “Watch it.”

He just chuckles. “Thank you! God. I’ve heard it all now. Come on. The ladder is already down.”

We strip and climb down the ladder that descends from the basement of the Inlet Views into the water of the inlet itself to our family’s underwater cavern.

The secret part of my childhood home. I’m not expecting it, but actually floating with my tentacles wrapped around my old rails that Dad installed for me when I was a kid buys me a few hours of sleep.

It’s not much, but it’s enough to give me some clarity in the morning to form a plan.

I haven’t tried hard enough to warrant giving up.

I haven’t really tried at all.

I promise myself that I’m going to give this thing my best fucking show, starting today with a new phone, a long list of apologies and the most severe case of online stalking you’ve ever seen, oh, and a flight to the USA.