“I know bad. My ex was bad. Really bad … he cheated, you know.”
“He sounds like a dick.”
“Prick.” She laughs. “He’s a prick. And a twunt.”
“Twunt?” I question.
“Twunt—because sometimes, twat and cunt just aren’t enough. I have that on a mug. It’s one of my favorites. I also have one that says, Twuntasaurus—like a normal twunt but more awesome. That one has a picture of a cute dinosaur on it too.”
“Well, twunt is now officially my favorite word.”
She smiles big, lighting up her whole face, and if I wasn’t sitting down, it would have knocked me on my ass. She really is beautiful.
“I have this really funny mug that I got as a Secret Santa gift last Christmas. It says, Finger up the bum, no harm done.” She snort-laughs, and then her brows draw together. “Actually, I never did find out who bought it.”
“I’m getting the impression that you really like mugs.”
“I do. I love them. I have a whole collection of Disney ones too.” She sighs, and the sound is soft and sweet. “You know, they’re all in boxes at the moment, sitting lonely and unused in my aunt Jenny’s garage because I’m officially homeless. I’d given up the lease on my place to move into the prick’s house. But you know, obviously, that’s not happening, so I’m staying with Aunt Jenny, who is awesome—you’d love her—until I can find another place. Ugh.” She groans, slapping a hand to her face. “I honestly don’t know what I was thinking! I don’t even know why I was going to marry him. You know, he was the worst in bed. Total worst! He needed a map just to find my vagina. And I don’t even think a satnav would have gotten him to my clit.”
Jesus. Fucking. Christ. She really needs to stop talking about her vagina and clit. Because I’m already imagining how her pussy tastes.
“Well, I’d say, you had a lucky escape,” I say to move my thoughts away from her pussy because I’m not getting anywhere near it tonight.
“Yeah.” She sighs an unhappy sound.
I’m just here, wondering how this bad-in-bed, cheating prick of a guy managed to land a gorgeous girl like Dillon.
“I’m just sad, you know,” she continues. “Not so much about him. He was just a small blip in the landscape of my life—my aunt Jenny told me that. Yeah …” Another sigh. “I’m just really sad about my mum.”
“Your mom?”
“Uh-huh. It was my mum he was cheating on me with. They were having an affair. I walked in on them kissing a few weeks before he and I were supposed to get married. They were at her house. I’d let myself in. I was there to go finalize the seating plan with her. And they were right there in the kitchen, going at each other.
“Apparently, they’d been sleeping together for three months. Three fucking months! Literally from the moment I’d introduced him to her. Because, you know, that’s what girls do—take the fiancé to meet the mother! He drove her home that night, and he was gone a while, told me that he’d had car trouble. Yeah, right. I bet that was the night it started.
“I know my mother. She doesn’t waste any time when she’s after a man. God! There I was, asking her to help me plan the wedding, asking her to give me away on my wedding day because she’s the only parent I’ve ever had. Desperately trying to bond with her because our relationship has always been difficult. And she said yes to it all. She even helped picked my wedding dress! And all that time, she was screwing my fiancé!” She lets out this strangled noise that sounds like a cross between a laugh and a cry.
“I can’t even say it without wanting to puke. I was sleeping in his bed with him, and so was she. God, it’s just disgusting and incestuous! The day I found out, I literally puked. I threw up everywhere, and then I scrubbed my body raw in the shower. I just needed to get clean. Get their betrayal off me. But even now, I still feel … gross.” A soft cry slips past her lips. “My mum always told me that I was stupid. Guess she was right.”
She blinks up at me with wet lashes, those eyes filled with hurt. I have the sudden urge to squeeze the life out of the fucking moron who hurt her, and I’d never lay a hand on a woman, but I might make an exception for her mom.
“You’re not stupid, Dillon.” I soften my tone even though I feel a confusing amount of anger toward the two people who hurt this woman that I barely know. “They are. To even contemplate doing that to you, let alone actually doing it … it’s cruel.” I shake my head. My dad is an asshole, but even he wouldn’t stoop that low. “And I’m sorry to say this, but your mom sounds like a total twunt.”
She laughs through her tears, and I’m glad that I could at least make her smile when she’s feeling so sad.
“She is a twunt.”
I reach out, and using my thumb, I wipe a tear from her cheek. She blinks up at me, all wide blue eyes and innocence.
“They’re both twunts who aren’t worthy of you. And I know it hurts now. But it won’t soon.”
Her eyes close. “Promise?” she whispers.
And something in my chest splinters. I rub my hand against my chest, trying to erase the weird sensation I’m feeling.
“I promise. Good things will happen for you, Dillon. I know it.”
Because good things are owed to people who suffer the awful. Well, that’s what my mom always said. But it never happened that way for her. I really hope it does for Dillon.
“West?”
I brush strands of her hair off her forehead, and her eyes open and close slowly.
“Yeah?”
“I … I …” Then, she passes out.
I chuckle to myself. Then, I turn her onto her side in case she pukes during the night. Actually … I grab the trash can and put it beside the bed, so I won’t have to clean up vomit off the floor.
I grab some sleep shorts, turn out the light, and head into the bathroom to change out of my clothes and brush my teeth.
When I exit the bathroom, I navigate my way through the room in the dark. Stopping by the bed, I look over at Dillon, fast asleep in my bed, snoring lightly.
A total stranger to me only a few hours ago, and now, I know what brought her to the island and into the bar, drunk and straight into my path.
Sure, she’s hurting now, but I’m going to make her time on this island good until she forgets any hurt those two assholes made her feel.
I walk quietly over to the shitty little chaise at the end of the bed. It’s either this or the floor. The floor is hard as fuck, and I’m not in college anymore—when it didn’t matter where I ended up sleeping. These days, I need comfort. I’m not getting any younger.
I lie down on the chaise, not bothering with a blanket because it’s hot as balls in here, even with the AC on.
I stare up at the dark ceiling, listening to the soft, even breaths coming from the bed.
It’s the last sound I hear before I fall asleep.
four
Dillon
I rouse to the sound of the ocean and the squeeze of my bladder.
I make an attempt to open my eyes but decide against it when the morning light nearly blinds me.