No one brought up Sully. No one even seemed to notice he was there.
“So, you’re a teacher? You know, the high school on the other side of the island’s been looking for someone to teach the rest of the year. Once Connor and Amie are enrolled in the elementary school next month, maybe you should go work over there?” Michael, the stocky blond guy I was talking to, had been talking to for the last thirty minutes, leaned closer and smiled. He wasn’t a bad looking guy. He was well built and his button-down shirt strained over his chest, hinting at a wall of muscle underneath the cotton. “It’s a well-paid job, y’know? It’s hard for the school board to find good teachers who want to stay on the Causeway, so they keep on putting the salary up and up. Teachers here are paid better than anyone else, it seems.”
“Oh, I couldn’t. No way. I couldn’t work here fulltime.” Slinging back the remainder of my wine, I didn’t notice the hurt look Michael was wearing until I’d put my glass down on the table and turned back to him. Perfect. I’d offended him. Shit. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I just meant that I couldn’t stay here because I have responsibilities back in California. My parents need me to come back and help out with their restaurant, and—” And I couldn’t think of another single reason why I had to go back to L.A. Will was no longer a factor. I didn’t exactly have a career I needed to cultivate there. As far as friends were concerned, what few people I still kept in touch with were scattered all over the place—Wisconsin, Oklahoma, Austin, Washington D.C. As soon as college ended, everyone had gone their separate ways, off to work, or get married, or whatever, and I was the only one who’d gone back home.
Kind of pathetic when I thought about it.
“I wouldn’t believe a word of it if I were you, Mikey,” a clipped, cold voice said over my shoulder. The bare skin across my shoulder blades instantly broke out in goose bumps. I knew without a doubt who it was, and panic sang through my veins. Sully stepped into view, clapping a hand on Michael’s shoulder, who looked awkward and edgy all of a sudden. Sully was wearing a plain jet-black shirt, smarter than his usual plaid, though his black jeans were scruffy and worn. A clear foot shorter than him, Michael seemed to shrink even further as Sully massaged his fingers roughly into Michael’s shoulder. “This is not the kind of woman that hangs around an island like ours, Mikey,” Sully said. His tone was light, though there was an unpleasant edge to it that made me uneasy.
“Ophelia Lang from California is just chasing a pay check. Once her job here is over and my brother’s children are packed off back to New York, you won’t see her for dust. Trust me. And then, once she’s finally left, I might be able to sell that haunted old warehouse she’s currently squatting in, and then I’ll be able to leave, too.”
“What? Sell the house? You can’t.” Never mind the fact that he was being shitty and spiteful. That was to be expected. But what the hell was he talking about, selling the house?
Sully took a deep swig of his beer, and then arched an eyebrow. “Of course. Ronan left it to me, didn’t he? I can do what I want with it once you’re gone.”
“You grew up in that house, didn’t you? It was your parents’ house. It’s been in the Fletcher family for generations.”
“What the hell do you care about the Fletcher family home?” Sully asked, cocking his head to one side. “What does that damned pile of bricks and mortar mean to you?”
“Not to me,” I snapped. “To Connor and Amie. It’s their heritage. Their birthright. It’s their history.”
“Then my brother should have left it to them instead of me, shouldn’t he? He knew I was more likely to burn the place to the ground than ever live there, taking care of his kids.” Finishing his beer, Sully grabbed a fresh bottle from the box Jerry, the boat skipper, was carrying past us.
Michael winced. He looked like he wanted to back away slowly, one step at a time so as not to be noticed. God knows he couldn’t be blamed; I didn’t want to be a part of the conversation either.
“You’re heartless, you know that?” I shouldn’t be doing this. What good was arguing with him? Or name calling? Sully was the kind of guy who lived for bickering and mud slinging. He got off on it. Without a doubt he was far more accomplished at it, and I was only going to lose my temper if I engaged him the way he clearly wanted me to.
“Heartless? Yeah, I guess that’s a fairly accurate description. Vile. Repugnant. Selfish. Cruel. The list goes on.” He let go of Michael and shoved his hand in his pocket, then. Michael cleared his throat and made his escape.
“Excuse me, Ophelia. It was a pleasure to meet you. I’m sure I’ll find you again before Rose drinks too much and kicks everyone out later.” He gave me a small smile and hurried off without even casting a look in Sully’s direction.