in a heap.”
“Must have been quite a punch,” the cop mused.
“It was,” I confirmed. “And after that, he stepped back. He didn’t do anything else to harm Ben. Just enough to get him off of me. There was no excessive violence or anything going on. I’m sure Mr. O’Shea will tell you the same. And you can question the bartender from the restaurant. He was really busy, but I’m sure it was observed that Ben kept bothering me and wouldn’t leave me alone.”
“I see. Thank you. We’ll be in touch if we need any more information,” he said.
“Thank you. Can I go now?” I asked, my voice small.
“Yes, ma’am. And be careful. It may look like paradise, but there are still bad people here.”
I walked off without a glance at Billy who I knew was still giving his statement. I wanted to be clear that he’d saved me, for them to know he’d done nothing wrong. But it made me feel so exhausted just to think about any of it. I went back to my room and took a hot bath. Then I fell into bed and ignored the calls and texts that kept coming in. One glance at my screen had shown me they were from Billy. I just couldn’t right then. I couldn’t talk to him and listen to him tell me about that woman and the baby, about how he was glad he could save me and we could still be friends. It gave me a pang in my chest just to think about it.
Hugging a pillow to my chest, I curled up on my side. I kept my back to the phone after I switched it to silent. I didn’t want to see it light up with alerts. I didn’t want to think about Billy trying to reach me, Billy at home in his cabin and maybe with that woman and the baby, just politely wanting to check on me before they went to bed. I wouldn’t allow myself to cry over him. The knot of sadness lay heavy in my chest, but I wouldn’t give my sorrow the satisfaction of tears. I needed a good night’s sleep and to forget any of this ever happened.
For about an hour, I lay awake and thought about whether to mention the assault in my article. If there were an open criminal case, I couldn’t write about it for privacy reasons. Also it cast the whole island in a bad light if a travel writer staying at an expensive resort was a crime victim. I decided not to include an account of what happened when I wrote my final article. I would focus it on the O’Shea brothers, their enterprises and unique background. Not that I wanted to think about any of them, least of all Billy. Instead, I’d decided on a central theme, and I’d see it through. I was a professional writer. I would create a terrific and memorable profile on this island and its denizens. I wouldn’t let my personal grief stand in the way of that.
I had a dream to pursue, a blog to create and publicize. I had no intention of jeopardizing my goal by writing a mediocre piece for the magazine just because my heart was broken, not that I’d admit he’d broken my heart. Of course, he hadn’t. That just an exaggeration because I was upset from the attack, obviously. I couldn’t possibly have fallen in love with Billy O’Shea so fast. Could I?
Chapter 16
Billy
“What’s up?” Tommy asked again.
“Nothing,” I growled.
“Jesus, Bill. What is up your ass?” he asked, affronted. I’d been glaring into my coffee for about half an hour. I usually loved the pub before it opened for the day, peaceful and homelike. But today, it just pissed me off. Tommy pissed me off. The fucking sunrise had pissed me off.
“I’m fine. Leave me alone,” I said.
I glowered down at the bar thinking it needed to be polished. It was looking dull. Everything looked dull and got on my nerves.
Connor threw down the towel he was polishing glasses with.
“That’s my line, brother. Tell us what’s wrong or get your crabby ass out of here.”
I gaped at him. Connor used to be the grouchiest, misanthropic O’Shea of us all until Brandi got a hold of him. Now he was like the mood police on one of my worst days. I grunted.
“I’m having a shitty week. The travel writer I was spending time with, Morgan?” I said, and Connor and Tommy nodded