Felicity
Landfall should still be hours away, but the sky is dark and the wind is violent as I make my way along the deserted cobblestone road that leads to Gen Town. A dead palm frond rips from a tree and crashes to the ground not ten feet in front of me, sending me scuttling backward. Maybe splitting up to search for Mary Elizabeth in the rapidly deteriorating weather wasn’t the best idea. Maybe staying on the island at all wasn’t the best idea. But too late to worry about that now. The ferry is long gone.
“Mimi,” I cry, the wind dampening my voice. “Mary Elizabeth!” I still don’t understand how she could have gotten out while we were at breakfast, but it’s been hours now, and the hope of finding her is quickly dwindling with the worsening weather. “Here, girl!”
The sound of a high-pitched horn close behind me makes me jump, and I spin to see Jackson behind the wheel of a golf cart. I hop in beside him, grateful for the shelter and the company.
“Any luck?” he asks.
“No.” I brush my wet bangs out of my eyes. “You?”
“Nothing.” He checks his watch and frowns. “Time’s running out before landfall, and we need to sandbag all the entrances of the lobby to make sure it doesn’t flood. The staff started to do it, but I noticed when I was up there a minute ago that they didn’t finish before they left.”
“Okay.” I’m despondent that we haven’t found Mary Elizabeth, but he’s right. At some point we have to take the steps to ensure our own safety.
“I figure we check Coco’s since the porch is open, then head back to the restaurant before it gets any worse,” he suggests.
I look up at the heavy clouds and blowing branches as the cart bumps along the uneven road. “It’s pretty bad out already.”
“It’ll get worse, trust me. I’ve been through a few hurricanes. They’re the real deal.”
“I know. I have too.”
He stops the cart in front of Coco’s. “What?”
“Yeah, I lived in Florida with my mom before she died,” I admit.
He turns to me, searching my face. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“I haven’t told you anything about that time in my life,” I return. “Because it’s hard—”
“Hard to talk about. I know.” He nods, trying to wrap his head around it. “But I was there too. Isn’t it funny? I’m only a year older than you. We could have known each other. Where did you live?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
I spring out of the golf cart and dash through the rain up the wooden steps to Coco’s giant covered porch. All the tables have been removed save an old pool table, pushed against the inside wall and covered with a blue tarp.
Jackson scurries across the empty floor to catch up with me, taking my hand. “Hey.” I turn to face him, and he looks at me with those soulful eyes. “Is it so bad to want to know more about you?”
I sigh, dropping my gaze to our interlaced fingers. I can’t lie to him anymore, but I can’t tell him the truth either. “I’m not the girl you think I am. You should stay away from me.”
The words sound silly, made no less so by the fact that I don’t seem to be able to release his hand. He draws closer, his eyes never leaving my face. “Whoever else you are, you are most definitely the girl I think you are.”
His gaze travels down to my mouth. I should pull away. I should leave. But I don’t. He tilts my chin up toward him and rubs his thumb across my lips. I can’t help myself. I part my lips and take his thumb into my mouth. He replaces his thumb with his tongue, and I wrap my arms around his neck. The wall of ice within me thaws beneath his touch, the surrender almost unbearably sweet.
Without coming up for air, he lifts me and carries me to the pool table. Our hands are suddenly all over each other, tugging off shirts, our breath hot and fast, as every moment of tension from the past few weeks, every repressed fantasy explodes between us. I unbutton his pants while he fumbles in his wallet for a condom and wriggle out of my shorts as we tumble onto the pool table, impatient to have him inside me. I know it’s wrong, but the movie’s over now, and I might as well enjoy one good fuck before I never see him again.
He pushes into me, and I know with immediate clarity that this is not a parting fuck. It’s not a fuck at all. It’s something else entirely. Something I’ve never experienced before. My brain stops; my identity stops. We move in unison like the ocean I hear crashing against the shore, like the thunder that rolls overhead, the rain that drums the thatched roof outside. It’s completely natural, like our bodies are puzzle pieces made to fit together, and it leaves me only wanting more.
Afterward, we lie entangled in each other’s arms atop the pool table, panting as the wind cools our heated skin. I bury my face in the crook between his shoulder and his neck, dreading what comes next. I should have told him before I let this happen, but it’s too late for that. I have to come clean now, before this goes any further. “I have to tell you something,” I murmur into his neck.
He pulls back to look me in the eye, pushing my hair out of my face. “Yeah?”
The moment of truth. I take a deep breath and steel my nerves. “My name isn’t Felicity; it’s Phoenix.” His eyes search mine, his face unreadable. I plow on. “Your father dated my mother, Iris, a long time ago. We met by your pool the night she died.”
He goes completely still. My heart plummets. It’s just how I’d
