Chapter 11
1161 Words
"Stella," he uttered the name in a drawn-out manner, and then he smiled, which had the effect of raising the temperature of the air by a few degrees. "Welcome to Puffin Island," the locals will say.
When she opened the door, it was just enough for conversation, but not enough for the gesture to be construed as a welcome. He had sensed both secrets and fear the moment she opened the door.
He could tell when someone was lying or had something to cover up.
It was in his nature to desire to uncover mysteries and investigate things in more detail. He had attempted to turn off that aspect of himself, but the compulsion to probe and investigate, to ask questions, remained. He had tried to switch it off.
There were times when it was driving him completely insane.
He tried to divert his attention away from the problem by thinking about the woman.
He’d woken her. With just a quick glance, he was able to see that she was the type of person who liked to be ready for anything, but her visit had taken her off guard. A few strands of her fine, silky hair had broken free from the clip that was fastened to the back of her head and were now floating around her sleep-rosy cheeks. She had been delightfully flustered, those green eyes focusing on him with keen mistrust.
She had given off the impression that she was getting ready to defend someone or something.
Perhaps that dead body.
Holy hell.
Oscer felt pleased with himself for neither stuttering or swallowing his tongue during the conversation. He had even been successful in maintaining his gaze on her face the entire time. The vast majority of the time. Then she took a big breath that tested the buttons on her sober shirt, and those huge breasts sprang up as if they were hoping to get away from her. The bolt of s****l hunger that had been triggered as a consequence of this had been potent enough to cause him to lose track of the conversation.
It had been a battle on his part to keep his mouth closed, and it finally gave way. It was an even greater challenge to refrain from pressing her back against the wall and demonstrating that, despite the fact that they had Wi-Fi, not everything on Puffin Island was civilized.
If he was fortunate, she hadn't figured out how superficial he was yet.
After picking up the pace, he ran back along the coastal trail, descended to the rocky shoreline, and then climbed back up. He exerted himself to the point where his lungs screamed for air and his muscles ached. Nobody who saw him now could ever guess that four years ago, he'd been found dead in a pool of his own blood. His appearance has not changed at all. It was only because of the professionalism of the medics that he had not remained dead.
He had promised himself that he would stop and take some time to enjoy the fact that he was still alive, so he did so when he reached the highest point. Penobscot Bay, in Maine, was, in his opinion, the most stunning location he had ever visited during his lifetime although he had been to a lot of other places. It was fifty kilometers in length and ten kilometers in width, and it extended from Rockland on the western shore all the way around the Blue Hill peninsula to Mount Desert. The landscape changed from craggy islands being pounded by waves to a verdant national park. Heaven on earth for those who worked on the sea; an adventurer's dream come true. It seemed like home to him.
When it came to a day like this, he questioned why it had taken him so long to get back to this place. Why it was necessary for him to reach rock bottom before he could make that decision. He had looked into the abyss of hell, and if it weren't for this sanctuary, he might have given in to his despair.
He had traded his stressful life in for a life with sandy coasts and rocky tidal pools, the scents and sounds of foreign cities for the crash of the sea and the call of the gulls, cuisine he couldn't recognize and didn't have time to eat for lobster bakes and hand-cranked ice cream, and so on. He did not pursue the truth but rather the wind and the tides instead.
He had a good head on his shoulders and could see the humor in the predicament. When he was a youngster, he had been so determined to get away from the island that he had daydreamed of swimming across the water in the middle of the night in order to get the heck off of it. Since the passing of his parents, he had been shackled and confined by the conditions of his life, and the weighty burden of obligation that had followed him around like a prisoner was his cellmate. Dreaming about other lands and different locations helped him maintain his sanity and prevent him from going insane. The thing that had fascinated him the most was the idea of living in a place where the only thing people knew about you was what you chose to show them. This was the thing that he'd dreamed about the most.
He drank a sip of water from the bottle he was holding as he watched a schooner sail across the bay with her sails filled with breeze.
He dialed Sophie’s number on the spur of the moment after pulling his phone from his pocket. According to his estimates, it should be afternoon in Turkey right now.
Instantaneously, she gave a response. "So you're calling to inform me that you played around with my friend, are you?" ”
"As you requested, I extended the hand of friendship," I said, and he waited a moment. You didn't inform me that there was a child, did you?
"I have no recollection of that."
Oscer was certain that she could not have forgotten anything, therefore he was perplexed as to why she had decided not to tell him. "I was beginning to believe that you had performed a favor for me. It's possible that I should have anticipated that there would be a catch.
"A child is not an attractive capture. Oscer, you behave as if children were infectious agents. Man up."
He showed a grin. "So, what exactly is going on here? You indicated that she was in some kind of difficulty. Should I brace myself for a visit from an ex-husband who was abusive? ”
Why is this even relevant? You would deal with him by concealing one hand behind your back.
"I just want to be aware of everything that's going on, that's all."
You're dealing with my anxious pal here, so be careful. Keep her protected."
- Writer
