In Over Her Head: An Anchor Island Novel by Terri Osburn (reading eggs books .TXT) 📗

she’d vomited, and she had never tried to do so without making any noise.

Once the retching stopped, she sat down with her back to the cold tub and wiped her mouth with a handful of toilet paper. Taking slow, steady breaths, she listened for any movement on the other side of the door but heard nothing. Shoulders drooping with relief, she stayed on the floor until certain she could move without getting sick again.

Palms pressed to the cold tile, she tried to remember what led her to this point. There’d been the trip to O’Hagan’s. Lots of mojitos. A couple baskets of nachos, which explained the taste of sour salsa in her mouth. Her next memory was Axel driving her home. He’d asked which house was hers and she’d told him. The fourth house on the right.

“Shit,” she mumbled, leaning her head back on the side of the tub. The fourth house was Nick’s. Hers was four beyond that.

She remembered arguing with Nick, though the details were faint. Then he’d carried her inside. The memory of being tossed over his shoulder made her nauseated and she deepened her breathing. Once the feeling passed, she tried to remember how they got to the bedroom. There were pain pills. A cup of coffee. And Nick asking her to come to bed.

She couldn’t remember anything else. Pulling up her knees, Lauren rested her forehead between them and closed her eyes. Concentrating, she saw Nick in the kitchen making coffee. Then he was on the couch, looking at her with sleepy brown eyes and saying, “…all I can think about is when I’ll see you again.”

For so long Lauren had wanted to hear those words, yet they filled her with fear. The thought of leaving made her chest hurt, but staying would be the same as putting a loaded gun in Nick’s hand. Leaving meant safety. Staying meant eventual heartbreak. Something she’d watched play out over and over and always with the same result.

Lifting herself off the floor, she locked her jaw and felt around for the sink. Turning the faucet on just enough to fill her hand, she rinsed out her mouth, then used her sleeve to dry off. Easing the door open, Lauren crept around the bed. The digital clock—the source of the blue glow—told her it was nearly four. Stopping at the door, she took one more look at the man who had become far too important in her life.

For a brief moment, she considered returning to the bed, but her mother’s voice filled her ears again.

Men will hurt you every time, baby. Don’t give ’em the chance.

The scene went blurry as tears filled her eyes, and Lauren walked away. Between the bedroom and the door she found her shoes, but she didn’t put them on until she reached the porch. An owl’s cry echoed in the distance as she made the short walk, and Lauren wondered if there might be another cottage available in the village. Saying she wanted to be closer to the restaurant would be a plausible excuse for the move. Not that she could put much distance between herself and Nick on such a small island, but any amount would be better than where she was now.

Once home, she locked the door, pressed her back against it, and slid to the floor. Sobs rocked her body and she let the tears fall. There was no reason to hold back now. No need to be quiet or hide the pain. In the morning, she would start over. She would rebuild the walls that Nick had so easily broken through.

Tonight, she just wanted to cry.

Ten days and he’d kept his promise. Lauren’s absence that next morning, followed by total silence after, sent the message loud and clear.

She was done.

Nick made no attempts to see or message her, and other than the few times he’d been outside when she’d passed by his house, their paths hadn’t crossed. After the first few days, he’d come up with a theory just to save his own sanity and to keep him from doing anything stupid. The whole thing had been a matter of circumstance and bad timing.

Lauren walked into his life at a moment when Nick had gone from fearing death to envisioning a long future and all the possibilities that entailed. Like a dying man searching for water, she’d been his oasis. An illusion that could never be real. Lucky for them both, she’d suffered no such illusions.

“There you are.” The voice startled Nick from his thoughts. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

To avoid temptation, he’d begun leaving his phone in another room whenever possible. Today he’d come outside without it.

“I didn’t want to be bothered,” he lied. “What’s going on?”

Mia shrugged and sat down beside him. “Nothing specific. I just wanted to check on you.”

Who was the older sibling again? “Check on me?”

She stared out over the ocean. “Mostly. I know something was going on between you and Lauren Riley, and whatever it was didn’t end well.” Blocking the sun with her hand, she turned his way. “Are you okay?”

Kicking a bit of sand with his shoe, he said, “You know me. I never get serious.”

“You were this time,” Mia countered. “I saw it the night of the dinner. The look on your face when you came back to the table said things had gotten really serious.”

“Only for one of us,” Nick replied. Changing the subject, he said, “Did you know about these uncles we have? The ones in their seventies and eighties?”

Her gaze returned to the water. “Not until Grandma and I went through the pictures for the photo albums. Why?”

“I was surprised. This is family we knew nothing about.”

Mia sat up in her chair. “That’s why you got serious with Lauren. Because you finally realized you aren’t going to die young.”

His sister was too damn quick. “I could still get hit by a bus tomorrow, but yes, I’m considering new possibilities.”

“There aren’t any buses on Anchor Island,”