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Chapter Fifteen

Jonathan–past

The salt-swept wind claws at my face as I crest the path to the cliffs, a tangle of emotions knotted in my chest. She’s already there, perched precariously close to the edge.

The hem of her dress flutters like a pale, beckoning flag in the wind.

For a fleeting moment, she looks like something otherworldly—a siren drawn from the sea, set to lure men into the deep.

“Jonathan,” Annabel calls out without turning, her voice cutting through the roar of the waves crashing below. “You’re late.”

She always knows when I’m near. It’s uncanny, like she’s tuned into some frequency only I emit.

I’d planned to approach her calmly, to wait until I could steady my pulse and tamp down the thoughts that have plagued me since the night I heard what she told him.

But her presence—her very existence—renders rationality impossible.

“I heard you the other night,” I finally utter the only words running through my mind.

“What do you think you heard?” Her voice is cold, calculated .

“That it would degrade you to marry me.” I gulp down the words, each cutting cleaner than a knife.

She doesn’t respond. Maybe it was wrong of me to linger, to listen, but I can’t help myself. Not when it comes to her.

“I promised you once that I would always be here for you.” I close the distance between us. My boots scrape against the rocky path, sending loose stones skittering toward the precipice.

“You’re not exactly known for keeping promises,” she spits, turning to shoot me a look over her shoulder. Her lips curve in that infuriating, intoxicating way they always do, as though she’s both amused and utterly unbothered by my presence.

“And yet, here I am,” I slip a wisp of her raven hair between my fingers. Annabel is many things—unpredictable, impetuous, magnetic—but she’s also fragile, in a way she’d never admit. “It’s dangerous up here,” I say, nodding toward the jagged rocks below. “If the wind shifts, you could?—”

“Fall?” She cuts me off, laughing as she steps back from the edge. Her hair whips around her face, a wild halo against the storm-darkening sky. “Don’t worry, Jonathan. I’m not planning on making you a witness to anything so dramatic. At least, not today.”

Her words hang in the air, sharp and unsettling. I clench my fists, wishing I could say the right thing to anchor her, to pull her back from whatever invisible brink she’s teetering on. But Annabel is a force unto herself, as untouchable as the tide.

“Why did you come?” she finally says.

“I had to see you–had to know if you meant what you said. You speak like I’m nothing to you.”

Her dark gaze hangs with mine then. “I tell him what he needs to hear.”

My eyes narrow on her soft features. One look from her breaks my heart. She haunts my waking moments and my dreams. “So it was a lie?”

“I meant it in the moment,” comes her soft confession, the words land like a dagger in my heart.

“Do you want me to leave? Never come back? I will if you say the words.” I growl.

She doesn’t say anything, but I see emotion welling in her dark eyes.

Anger bubbles up inside of me then. “Why do you do this? Why do you keep us both on a string? You know the slowest way to kill someone you love is never loving them enough, that’s what you’re doing to me, Annabel. You’re fucking killing me one word–one moment–at a time.”

She shakes her head, tears flowing from her eyes.

“No, please don’t say that.” She wipes at her cheeks.

“I just–can’t bear the thought of a life without you in it.

” She turns to face me fully. Her eyes, dark and inscrutable, search mine for a beat too long.

“Sometimes I need to talk to someone who isn’t him. ”

“Why? What’s wrong with the perfect, incomparable Calum Vey?”

“Everything,” she says softly, her voice almost lost to the wind. She wraps her arms around herself, though I can’t tell if it’s the chill or her thoughts she’s trying to ward off. “Nothing. I don’t know.”

“Annabel,” I press, stepping closer. “You can’t just say something like that and leave it hanging. If he’s hurt you, if there’s something I can do?—”

“He hasn’t hurt me,” she interrupts, her tone sharp but not unkind. “Not the way you’re thinking, anyway. It’s just… Calum expects so much. From himself, from me. I can’t live up to it.”

I’ve never been able to hide my emotions where she’s concerned, and now is no exception.

The relief at her admission is immediate, a flood of light in the shadowy recesses of my mind.

“You don’t have to live up to his expectations with me,” I say, the words tumbling out before I can second-guess them.

I reach for her hand, and to my surprise, she lets me take it.

“You could walk away. You could start over.”

She looks down at our hands, her brow furrowing slightly. “Walk away and go where? To you?”

“Yes,” I say, the word a vow, a lifeline. “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself with me. You know that.”

Her lips part, and for a moment, I think she’s going to agree. But then she pulls her hand away, her gaze flicking to the horizon. “You’re sweet, Jonathan. And I care about you. I really do. But it’s not that simple.”

“It could be,” I argue, desperation creeping into my voice. “You don’t owe him anything, Annabel. You deserve to be happy.”

She shakes her head, a bittersweet smile curving her lips. “Happiness is overrated. What I need is someone who can challenge me. Someone who makes me feel alive.”

“And you think Calum does that?” The bitterness in my tone surprises even me. “He’s so consumed by his own ambition he can’t even see you for who you really are.”

“And you can?” she counters, her eyes flashing.

“You think you’re the only one who understands me?

That’s your problem, Jonathan. You see me as some idealized version of myself.

Calum makes me feel safe, but you make me feel free.

And I…” She trails off, her voice catching. “I don’t know what I need.”

The confession feels like a knife to the gut, and yet I can’t bring myself to blame her. Annabel has always been a storm, a whirlwind of contradictions and impossible beauty. How could I expect her to choose between the sun and the sea?

“You don’t have to decide right now,” I say finally, my voice low and steady. “Just… don’t shut me out. Don’t let him be the only one you turn to. ”

She looks at me, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I don’t want to hurt you, Jonathan.”

“Then don’t,” I whisper, closing the last bit of distance between us. My hands find her arms, my grip firm but gentle. “Stay.”

For a heartbeat, she leans into me, her warmth a balm against the cold. But then she pulls away, her gaze flickering toward the path that leads back to the cottage.

“I have to go,” she says, her voice trembling. “Calum will be wondering where I am.”

“Let him wonder,” I snap, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “He doesn’t own you, Annabel.”

She flinches, as though my words have struck her. “No. He doesn’t.” Her gaze meets mine, filled with something I can’t quite name. Regret? Longing? Fear? “But he’s a part of me, Jonathan. Just like you are. And I can’t… I can’t tear myself apart trying to choose. It’s like tearing my soul in two.”

Before I can respond, she turns and begins walking in the opposite direction of Holiday House, her figure silhouetted against the storm-gray sky.

I want to call after her, to beg her to come back, but the words stick in my throat.

Instead, I watch as she disappears down the path, leaving me alone with the wind and the waves.

As I turn back toward the edge of the cliffs, I’m struck by the crushing weight of what just transpired.

Annabel’s indecision, her impossible beauty, her maddening contradictions—they’re all seared into my mind, as permanent as the jagged rocks below.

And yet, even now, I know I’d follow her anywhere, even if it meant stepping off the edge myself.

The storm grows heavier, the first drops of rain pelting my skin as I make my way back toward the path. But the tempest outside is nothing compared to the one raging within me. Annabel may not know what she needs, but I do. And I’ll be damned if I let Calum be the one to give it to her .

By the time I reach the cottage, the rain is coming down in sheets.

My clothes cling to my skin, and my breath fogs in the cool air as I push open the door, not bothering to knock.

The warmth inside is almost suffocating, a stark contrast to the chill that has seeped into my bones.

I peel off my jacket and let it fall to the floor, too drained to care.

Calum’s voice greets me before I even see him. “You’re soaked.”

I glance toward the living room, where he’s seated by the fire, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. His gaze is piercing, as though he can see right through me.

“It’s raining,” I say flatly, kicking off my boots.

He doesn’t respond immediately, his eyes narrowing as he takes a sip of his drink. “Where were you?”

The question is casual, but there’s an unmistakable edge to it. “Out.”

“With Annabel?”

I freeze, my pulse quickening. “Why would you think that?”

Calum’s lips curve into a humorless smile. “Because she’s not here. And because I know you, Jonathan. You’ve always been predictable when it comes to her.”

The accusation hangs in the air, heavy and unspoken. I want to deny it, to tell him he’s wrong, but the words catch in my throat. Instead, I meet his gaze head-on, my silence speaking volumes.

“You should be careful,” he says finally, his tone deceptively calm. “Annabel isn’t as innocent as she looks. She’ll chew you up and spit you out without a second thought.”

“And you’re any better?” I counter, my voice rising despite myself. “You’re so obsessed with her you can’t see that she’s drowning. You think you’re saving her, but you’re just pulling her down with you.”

His expression darkens, and for a moment, I think he’s going to lunge at me. But then he leans back in his chair, his grip on his glass tightening. “At least I’m not hiding in the shadows, waiting for scraps of her affection. At least I’m honest about what I want.”

The words cut deeper than I’d like to admit, and I’m left standing there, drenched and seething, as he turns his attention back to the fire. I’ve always known Calum and I were bound to clash, but this… this feels like the beginning of something far more destructive.

I vow then to inflict the kind of emotional pain she’s asked me to live with. I will make Annabel regret her decision to stay. Even if it kills me too.