9 . 5 | bonus chapter

EVERETT'S POV

I LEANED AGAINST THE PORCH RAILING, glancing at my phone for the fifth time. The sky was already light, the sun high above the horizon and turning the air sizzling hot.

And Isla still wasn't here.

I frowned, scanning the road and looking for her bike. She was late. She was never late, and yet today she was.

It was my fault. I'd said something stupid last night.

Second choice.

I groaned, my head falling between my hands. Why had I said that? Why did I have to go and open my mouth?

Sure, the alcohol had been buzzing through me and I'd been irritated. Irritated about being at a party – like the parties Emma used to drag me to. Irritated about how fucking hot it was in this town. Irritated about the girls around me – or more accurately, the girl who wasn't around me.

Because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get Isla out of my mind. Even when five other half-naked girls were squealing over my accent and dragging their nails over my chest, all I could see was Isla, standing with River.

But I shouldn't have said that.

I glanced at my phone again and released a loud breath. She wasn't coming. And I didn't even have her number to text her.

I tapped against the porch railing, my mind drifting. She never missed work. And yesterday, she'd left the bonfire without me. What if she never made it back?

I shook my head, shoving the thought from my mind. No. She was angry about what I said. That was all.

I groaned, running my fingers through my hair and glancing at the road once more.

It wouldn't hurt to check, would it?

I turned, pushing the door to Clemente House open and entering the chilled lobby. My grandma stood behind the counter, organising the bookings for today. I walked up to her, leaning over the table and grabbing her attention.

"Everett," she blinked. "What are you still doing here?"

"Isla didn't show up," I said frowning. "Do you have her number?"

"Her number?" she paused, humming and tapping her chin before shaking her head. "No. I don't believe so."

I sighed, tapping a hand on the table when she lit up. Her lips pulled into a smile, her smile lines digging into her wrinkled skin and her eyes glimmering brightly.

"I have her address though."

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Forty minutes later, I was reaching the top of the little hill that her house sat on. The sun was bearing down on my back, turning my skin slick and making my shirt stick to my chest. My hair flattened down on my forehead and I ran my fingers through it, pushing it off my brow.

I wasn't sure why, but my blood was rushing at the sight of the little white house sitting at the top of the hill. I paused in front of the door, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious. I tugged at the collar of my t-shirt, loosening it over my body, and ran another hand through my hair.

After a breath, I lifted a hand to knock on the door.

"Coming!" a shout sounded – so similar to Isla's voice, but with a touch of maturity that she lacked. A patter of stumbling footsteps came from behind the door, the sound of slamming things onto tables and kicking things out of the way, until the door was ripped open.

At first, I thought it was Isla. But she was shorter, her hair barely brushing her shoulders in waves. She smiled at me, her eyes widening slightly in surprise – brown like Isla's, but different all the same. Not as warm.

I shifted uncomfortably, shooting her what I hoped was a charming smile. "Sorry for intruding, Mrs Monroe. I was just wondering if Isla's home?"

"Isla?" she repeated, blinking. She shook her head like shaking sand from her eyes and her smile grew. "No, she left ages ago."

She left ages ago. I breathed a sigh of relief. So she had made it home yesterday.

"Are you a friend of hers?" she said. I blinked, meeting her curious eye.

"Ah," I rubbed the back of my neck. "Not exactly. My name's Everett. My grandma runs Clemente House."

"Mrs Clemente's grandson!" Isla's mother exclaimed. She bounced on her toes, pulling the door wider and shooing me in. "Come in, come in!"

"Oh, no," I chuckled awkwardly. "I don't mean to intrude. I was just looking for Isla."

"I insist," she said, smiling. Her eyes went to my hair, then the road behind me. "You didn't walk here, did you?"

My hand flew to my head, smoothing down the hair there. "Was it that obvious?"

"Goodness, that's such a long walk, Everett," she said, clicking her tongue. "Come in, I'll get you a nice, cold drink. Please."

She pulled the door completely open and sent me a warm smile, gesturing me inside. The sun was still hot on the back of my neck, and I had to admit a cold drink sounded really nice right now.

"Just for a minute," I conceded. She grinned, leading me through the house and to the kitchen.

It was a small house with off-white walls and a timber floor that creaked with each step. Natural light flooded it and it was cluttered with everything that made Shellside Bay so appealing – memories.

Photographs of Isla lined every surface of the house – from the walls to the cabinets. Photos of her when she was tiny, wrapped in cloths. Photos of her a little older, her hair falling around her shoulders as she grinned in a lifeguard costume. Beside her, a kid that looked annoyingly like Austin was grinning with her, holding a boogie board in his hand.

I scowled, moving on to the next photo. There were school photos hanging on walls, tracking her path from kindergarten to her senior year. I smiled, easily picking her out from the rest of her class in the group photos.

"Sorry for the mess," Isla's mother said. I turned, realising we'd made it to the kitchen.

It was an open plan house where the kitchen bled into the living room. Just looking at the place reminded me of Isla. It had surfboards stacked in the corner and seashell patterned cushions on the couch. Being on a hill, the windows opened to reveal a view of the water, lapping at the shore.

I breathed in the scent of the ocean – a smell I'd become quickly accustomed to since arriving here

"It's lovely," I replied, turning back to face her. I took a seat on one of the stools in front of her and she sent me a smile that showed she didn't believe me.

"So, what would you like?" she asked, raising a brow and tapping her fingers against the counter. "Water? Coke? Fanta?" she paused, her smile turning into a smirk. "Beer?"

"Water is fine, Mrs Monroe," I said, shooting her a grin. "Thank you."

"Oh, please, Everett," she said, turning to grab a glass from the cupboard. "Call me Rachel. No one in this town has called me Mrs Monroe in years."

She filled the glass and I went back to scanning the room. On the counter, another small cluster of photographs stood. A recent photo with Isla, River, Connor, Austin and a girl I didn't recognise. Sky, I thought to myself. She'd described her to me enough times to figure it out.

I blinked, my eyes drifting to a photo of Isla when she was a kid. She was small, old enough to surf judging by the board in her hands, but young enough to have a missing tooth in her smile. I guessed she was about seven or eight.

Beside her, a man knelt in the sand, a wide grin splitting across his face. His eyes were like Isla's – a rich brown that swam with the warmth of a million smiles. Her dad, I thought to myself. Why hadn't she ever mentioned him?

I glanced at the other photos I'd passed on the way into the room. He was missing from most of them.

"Here you are."

I turned, snapping my head to meet Rachel's kind smile. She slid a glass to me, filled with cold water. The sides were wet with condensation and I thanked her, immediately gulping it thirstily, the icy water refreshing down my throat.

"So," Rachel started, watching me carefully. "Why are you looking for Isla here? Shouldn't she be at work?"

I raised a brow, meeting her eyes. "You mean she did go to work?"

Without me. I ignored the pressure that rose in my chest at that.

"Yeah, got up bright and early too," she said, letting out a laugh like she had just told a hilarious inside joke. "And by that, I mean, she was right pissed. Slammed all the doors and woke me up before she left. What did you do to her?"

"Me?" I sputtered, my eyes widening.

"Well, no one else has come searching for her. I figure that means you're the reason she was so pissed off this morning."

I pursed my lips, flattening them against my teeth. "I may have said something a little insensitive yesterday."

"Ah," she said slowly, her brows lifting in recognition. "Well, if you managed to piss Isla off, then good luck, because she's not going to let you off easily."

I sighed, resting my face against my hand and slumping in my seat. "I know. I was an idiot. I really should've just kept my mouth shut."

She watched me for a minute before leaning onto the counter and patting a hand on my arm. She sent me a gentle smile.

"I'll give you a secret, Everett," she said. "Ice cream."

"Ice cream?"

"Ice cream," she confirmed with a nod. "It's the secret way to her heart. Trust me. Her dad used to take her anytime she was upset. She'd cheer up immediately."

Her eyes drifted to the picture sitting on the kitchen bench beside me, and her smile turned sad.

"Okay," I said slowly. "I'll pick up an ice cream on the way back."

"No," she said quickly. "You have to get her a soft serve from an ice cream truck. Flake choc top. It's her favourite."

"Flake?" I repeated, frowning.

She laughed, shaking her head. "It's a chocolate. You'll know it when you see it."

"Alright," I said. "Ice cream truck. Flake choc top. Got it."

She smiled and we drifted into silence for a moment. She quirked a brow at me, pushing off from the counter and nodding towards the hallway we'd come from.

"Now," she said, grinning cheekily. "Would you like to see some baby photos of Isla?"

A grin split across my face.

"Yes," I said immediately. "Yes, I would."

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A U T H O R ' S  N O T E

Another Everett's POV of when he met Isla's mum! In case it wasn't clear, this took place in chapter 9, after Isla left him at the party then didn't meet him before work.

I hope you liked this chapter! Let me know what you thought! I've got one more for yall hehe