It doesn’t matter anyway.
We’re back to hating each other.
The silence is suffocating as I slip under the covers and turn away from him.
On our first night together, we either talked or basked quietly in the aftermath of a good fuck. Now, all I feel is cold while I listen to the low creak outside our door, followed by the sound of chains dragging along the floor.
Chapter 17
Enzo
“How often is this island surrounded by sharks?” I ask, staring hard at the two fins that pop up every now and again. I think there’s a third out there, but I can’t be sure.
Sylvester comes up beside me, panting a little as he leans on his good leg.
“All the time,” he responds. “One of the things that make this island treacherous. We get seals out here, so they tend to stick around.”
I nod, crossing my arms and wishing more than anything I could be out there with them, holding on to their fins and feeling them move beneath my hand as they glide through the water. It’s a feeling unlike anything else and only serves to remind me how fucking stuck I am.
“You, uh, like them, right?” he asks awkwardly. It’s been awkward all morning. I’m almost positive he heard us last night, and I’m not the least bit ashamed of it. However, he’s the type to usually say something if he feels disrespected, which tells me he enjoyed it, too.
Sick fucker.
We still don’t care for each other, but for the sake of not making things more tense than they already are, I answer, “Yeah. They’re incredible creatures.”
“Ever been in the water with one?”
“All the time,” I say.
He guffaws, shaking his head, seemingly to have trouble imagining it. “Outside a cage, too?”
“Absolutely. If I’m out in the ocean, I don’t touch them—I respect their space. I own a research center in Port Valen, Australia, and there's an enclosure to bring them in when we need to conduct certain testing. I will usually get in the water with them then.”
“You keep ’em?”
“No, never. They’re not meant to be imprisoned.”
He nods, an awkward silence descending. I pay him no mind, my attention zeroed in on the shark. Restlessness is gathered in my bones, and I’m almost stupid enough to consider swimming out of here. But despite my experience with them, it’s too dangerous, especially if this is a hunting ground for them.
“I’m uh, sorry about the little scare ya’ll had yesterday,” he apologizes. “I ain’t ever had that happen, but I imagine it made you two very uncomfortable.”
Dragging my gaze away from the water, I eye him closely. He’s staring down at the sand, watching how the rolling waves wash up to the wooden leg that’s slowly creating a hole within the grains. He’s tense, and I can’t tell if it’s because of what he’s saying or because he just doesn’t like being in my presence.
“Guess the ghosts just don’t like us. Odd, when we’re not the ones who killed them.”
He chortles, but the sound comes out forced. “Maybe they was just askin’ fer you to help them, then. Can’t say I like their company, either.”
“Why don’t you leave?” I question, turning my gaze back to the water. Though, I keep him in my peripheral, trusting him as much as I would if he claimed his wooden leg was real.
“It’s what I know best. Been out here since I was eighteen, and by the time the lighthouse shut down in 2010, I’d been here for thirty-two years. S’pose it’s a lot like getting out of prison. Don’t know how to adjust to the real world.”
“Sawyer mentioned you having a daughter,” I probe.
“Had a whole family once upon a time,” he answers, though his tone is hardening. “I’ve tried to make this place a home. Sometimes people just ain’t willin’。 But doesn’t stop me from tryin’。”
I glance at him. “Must’ve been hard to let them go.”
Instead of answering, he turns to me and points over his shoulder. “There’s a storm comin’ in tonight. I’d be inside within the hour. They can come on fast, and the waves get big. But I’m sure you know that now.”
My fists clench when he slaps the back of my shoulder a couple of times before heading off. I tuck them deeper into my armpits, refraining from sending one of them flying into the back of his head.
“Hey, Sylvester?” I call, keeping my back to him. He doesn’t verbally respond, but I know he’s stopped walking, his uneven gait no longer audible. “Don’t touch me again. And don’t touch Sawyer, either.”