He’s dying.
My da is dying and—
My gaze strays to the window, and I narrow my eyes. The doors to my pottery shed are wide open, and I catch a lock of blonde hair floating out of the entrance.
What the actual fuck?
Fury blazes inside me. I can feel my face turn red as I rage through the cottage, fling the door open, and stomp to the open shed.
Sure enough, Bonnie is standing inside, holding up a recently fired mug.
“What the hell are you doing in here?”
A frightened yelp escapes her lips as she jumps. The mug slips from her hands and shatters to the ground.
She turns toward me, and those crystal eyes widen, feigning innocence. “You see—”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Bonnie.” She goes quiet, her shoulders sagging. I could see it before she even started talking: the telltale sign of her coming up with some elaborate explanation for invading my privacy.
“Well . . . ?” I press, folding my arms over my chest.
“Honestly”—she fidgets—“I wanted to see if this was where you kept your power washer. I thought maybe I would steal it and clean some of the algae off the cottage. But, oh my God, Rowan, you’re a potter. How come you didn’t—？”
“You had no right coming in here!” I yell, pointing at the shed.
Her body shifts backward from the power of my voice, and her eyes grow wider, more frightened. “I didn’t . . .” She swallows hard. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. I’m sorry, but Rowan, you’re really good. You could sell this—”
“Out.”
“Rowan, please, let me—”
“I said, fucking out!” I scream, my chest vibrating, my hands shaking, emotions surging through me. A breakdown is imminent.
Bonnie startles and hurries out of the shed. Once she’s outside, I slam the doors shut and then spin on her. “Don’t fucking go in there, do you hear me?”
She nods, tears brimming in her eyes.
“I . . . I’m sorry.”
When I see the tears roll down her cheek, a wee voice in the back of my head tells me I need to apologize, but it’s quickly drowned out by the uncontrollable rage that’s piercing through me.
Fuck.
Bonnie . . . I’m . . . I’m sorry.
The thoughts ring through my head, but my mouth can’t seem to form the words.
“Rowan, please say something,” she begs, her beautiful eyes pleading, but a wave of numbness falls over me. Bonnie’s distraught, and it’s my fault, but I can’t find it within me to care.
Turning away, I stride back to the cottage and flee to my room before slamming the door shut.
Sinking onto my bed, I bury my head in my hands and think about what the hell I’m going to do.
It takes about two seconds to decide.
London.
I’m going to London.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BONNIE
Broken heart: One.
Nausea is in full force. What the hell just happened?
I’ve seen Rowan grumpy.
I’ve even seen him angry.
But I’ve never seen him like that.
It was as if a completely different person took over his body and lashed out.
After he stormed back inside, I stood in front of the shed for a few moments until I found enough courage to go back to the cottage, but when I entered, he was locked in his room. His message was loud and clear: he didn’t want me near him. After that, I didn’t waste any time in leaving. I gathered my things and practically ran back to my cottage.
Now, sitting in my unmade bed, I wait for Dakota to get home.
When I was delirious and striding back to the cottage, I sent her a few panicked texts. When I got to my bedroom, a few more. And two minutes ago I tried calling, and after two rings, the phone went to voice mail.
No response.
No best friend when I need her the most.
Anxiety at an all-time high, I try to steady my breathing, knowing I have a lot to get done today.
I can do this. Everything will be okay.
God, I wish Dakota was here.
Shakily, I stand and change my clothes, feeling like I need a fresh start. Once my shoes are on, I stick my phone in the back pocket of my jean shorts and head to the coffee shop, where I find Fergus standing by the door.
Trusty, dependable—
“Ahhhhhh.”
Screaming Fergus.
At the sight of what seems to be my only friend these days, I swallow down a flood of emotions and give him a pat on the head. “Good morning, Fergie. I see you’re clearing the lungs out already. Getting ready to startle some tourists, I hope.”