On This Island, I Make the Rules

“Ethan Cole!”

“What?”

Ethan dropped the laundry he was washing by hand and hurried to the bathroom door. Brooke Mercer was standing on the other side, furious.

“You were supposed to pick me up at one thirty! What the hell happened?”

Tall, poised, and strikingly beautiful, Brooke somehow managed to look flawless even when she was losing her temper.

“I was doing the laundry. I forgot.”

Only now did he remember. She had gone shopping and ordered him to meet her afterward to carry her bags.

“You forgot. Well, isn't that convenient.” She folded her arms. “So? What do you think I should do to you?”

Ethan had been twelve when his parents were killed in the line of duty. David Mercer, his father's old Army buddy and fellow police officer, had taken him in and raised him as his own.

Brooke was David's daughter, six months older than Ethan. She had spent her entire life being admired. At college, she was the girl everyone noticed, the one everyone seemed to know.

She had resented Ethan from the day he moved into their house.

As far as she was concerned, this unwanted stranger had stolen a share of her father's love. David adored the boy, so she couldn't get rid of him. Instead, she had made a habit of ordering him around and taking her anger out on him.

Ethan stood six feet tall, but that had never stopped her from humiliating him whenever he displeased her.

“I don't know,” he said stubbornly, lifting his head.

He had strong features, dark brows, and deeply tanned skin. He might have been handsome if he hadn't spent so much of his life trying to make himself invisible.

“You don't know?”

Her hand whipped across his face.

Ethan pressed a palm to his burning cheek. His eyes stung.

“Oh, are you feeling sorry for yourself? You live in my house and spend my dad's money. What exactly do you have to feel sorry about?”

She shoved past him to inspect the bathroom.

“Slap yourself ten times. Then scrub the toilet and clean this whole room. I want a shower. If I find so much as a speck of dirt, you'll regret it.”

Ethan stared at her, fighting the tightness in his throat.

David had been as good to him as any father could be. But he was rarely home when Brooke and Ethan were alone, and he knew nothing about what happened in his absence.

Ethan had never told him. He didn't want to add to the man's worries.

So he went back into the bathroom and got to work.

Brooke demanded perfection. A missed spot was enough to earn him another insult, sometimes another blow. After years of it, he had developed an almost automatic terror of leaving anything dirty.

Five minutes later, she appeared in the doorway again.

“Are you still not done? How long am I supposed to wait?”

Ethan was crouched beside the toilet with a brush in his hand.

“Almost.”

He glanced up. She had changed into sleepwear while she waited.

“What are you looking at?”

Before he could answer, she grabbed his hair and forced his head into the toilet.

“Keep staring, you creep! You think you can move into my house and take my dad away from me?”

Water filled his mouth. His hands flailed against the porcelain.

“You don't belong here! You never did!”

He couldn't breathe.

For one terrible moment, he understood that she wasn't going to let go.

She's going to kill me.

Panic gave him a burst of strength. He planted both hands on the rim and wrenched himself free.

He collapsed onto the bathroom floor, coughing and gasping. His scalp burned. Water streamed down his face.

She didn't even see him as a person.

“Get out!”

She kicked at him until he scrambled through the doorway.

Outside, he covered his face. The tears came anyway.

This wasn't some isolated incident. It was simply the latest thing she had done to remind him how little he mattered.

Graduation couldn't come soon enough. He would get a job, move out, and never give her another chance to do this to him.

Fortunately, a group of students had arranged a graduation trip to Fiji. Ethan had signed up for one reason: to get out of that house, even if it was only for a few days.

They were leaving the following morning.

He pulled himself together as best he could, packed, and went to the airport.

Then he heard the voice he had been hoping to escape.

“Ethan? Who said you could come? You're supposed to be at home!”

“I wanted to take a trip.” He kept his voice low. Please, not here. Not in front of everyone.

“With my dad's money? Do you have any shame at all?”

People in the departure lounge turned to look. So did Claire Whitmore, another of the most admired women on campus.

Heat flooded Ethan's face.

The boarding announcement interrupted before Brooke could say anything else.

She gave him a hard stare. “Don't even think about following me.”

Then she walked toward the gate.

Ethan boarded anyway.

To his surprise, his seat was beside Claire's. To his dismay, Brooke was just across the aisle.

“Ethan Cole!” Brooke snapped as soon as she saw him. “So now you're ignoring me?”

“Brooke, could you keep your voice down?”

Claire's tone was cool and perfectly level.

Brooke rounded on her. “I'm talking to him. What does it have to do with you?”

“You're being annoying.”

Claire turned to Ethan. “Switch seats with me.”

“What?”

He stared at her for a second before moving into the window seat.

Was she doing this to protect him?

Claire had a reputation for being distant. Her expression rarely gave anything away, and most people found her unapproachable. He had certainly never expected her to step in on his behalf.

Brooke made a disgusted sound as Claire settled between them.

“Of course you'd take his side,” she muttered.

The plane took off. Whether Brooke was tired or simply unwilling to start another argument across Claire, she finally fell silent.

Before long, people around them were asleep.

Ethan couldn't settle. He looked past Claire toward Brooke, and a familiar bitterness rose in his chest.

Years of this. Years of being treated as if he wasn't worth basic kindness.

If it hadn't been for David, he would have left long ago.

The aircraft jolted.

Brooke's eyes flew open. She caught him looking in her direction.

“Creep,” she spat, then closed them again.

A second, harder jolt shook the cabin.

Voices rose. Somewhere ahead, a glass shattered.

“We're experiencing some turbulence. Please remain seated and stay calm.”

A flight attendant stood in the aisle, speaking into the interphone.

She barely finished before the floor seemed to drop beneath her. She screamed and slid down the aisle.

The plane pitched sharply.

Screams filled the cabin. Alarms shrieked overhead.

“Ethan! Do something! Help me!”

Brooke had gone white.

“Stay in your seat! Don't move!”

It was Ethan's first flight. He had no idea what else to tell her.

Something cold touched the back of his hand.

He looked down. Claire was gripping him, her lips pressed tightly together, sweat beading along her forehead.

Then his stomach lurched as the plane dropped.

Everything went black.