Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

scurries in front of me, blocking my path. “Oh, no. You’re not going
anywhere. You lure me to this shitty little island with a job that I just knew
was too good to be true, the least you can do is explain yourself.”
I clear my throat, glancing down at her all-black outfit, so ridiculously
similar to my own that I almost laugh. Nature versus nurture, I guess.
Steeling myself against the nerves fluttering inside my chest, I stuff my
hands in my pockets and shrug. “I’d say you already know the reason you’re
here, Violet. You won’t cash any of the checks I send, and you’ve blocked
my ability to wire transfer funds into your bank account. This was the next
logical step.”
Her brows arch. “Actually, the next logical step would be to leave me
alone, like I’ve asked you to a hundred times.”
“Take the money I’m trying to give you and I’ll leave you be.”
“I don’t want your money!” she snaps, turning a few heads of the people
passing by on their way from the Dunkin’ Donuts down the street. “Honestly,
Kal, it’s a nice gesture, but... it’s not warranted.”
Clenching my jaw, I exhale roughly. “You’re drowning in debt, Violet.
Let me help you.”
“God, you don’t get it, do you?” Shaking her head, she turns on her heel,
scanning the sidewalk as if looking for eavesdroppers. As if anyone in
Aplana is at all concerned with the happenings of others—that’s why the
island is primarily made up of tourists year-round. People come here to
escape.
Or, in my case, to hide.
They definitely don’t come for gossip, and the locals know better than to
put their noses in my business, even if they don’t know exactly why they
shouldn’t.
“Have a cup of coffee with me and explain it,” I offer, nodding at
Dunkin’. Such an odd franchise for this part of town, given the number of
mom-and-pop shops littering the streets, but it does surprisingly well.
“I don’t want to have coffee with you. I don’t even want to be here, on
this island. But I came, even though my best friend told me something
sounded off. I thought, it’s an island with a population of less than a hundred
people, what could possibly happen?” She snorts sharply, narrowing her eyes.
“Just when I was starting to forget about you.”
Her words are a barb aimed directly at my heart; it sinks inside the
muscle, flaring so it latches on tightly and refuses to relinquish its hold. I rub