Free Captiva Captive by Talyn Scott

of my life.”
       “Drama, Blythe, your naivety is only endearing for a couple of good fucks, and then it wears off.  Where’s my real lover?”
       Her hand rose on its own volition, but, just in time, she stopped before she slapped him.  Never had she been a violent person, and even though he most certainly deserved it, she wasn’t starting today.  “I don’t want to hate you.”  She turned, eyeing Ryan as he placed her remaining box inside the rust-filled, truck bed.  It landed with a finalizing thud, just as her heart had last night.   
       “See you tomorrow,” Sixten continued to taunt her while sliding his glasses back in place with a cool fingertip, “when you come to your senses.”
       That did it.  Words formed from something so painful she nearly couldn’t bear it.  They seethed, swelling with hatred until they choked everything she thought she was.  “Never.”  Reigning back as much as possible, just so she could have some pretense of dignity, she somehow maintained her smokescreen of composure, “One day, someone will crack that icy soul of yours.  And when she does, that cocky, self-important delusion you depend on every day will abandon you, leaving you to grovel on your knees begging for mercy.” She dragged in a cleansing breath. “But I hope you grow up before that happens.  Have a good life, Six.  I truly wish you well, at least, as much as I can at the moment.”  She refused to lie, but she had too much class to utter the ‘fuck you’ teasing her tongue, daring her to toss it out.  “I can’t hold on to nothing , and that’s what you’re offering me,” she whispered, placing a boulder that he called an engagement ring on the concrete edge of a nearby planter.  “The trappings of wealth can’t replace fidelity.”
       “Don’t whine, Blythe.  It’s tiresome.  You’re in love with me, so stop this game before you lose everything.”
       She dug her fingernails in her palms and fought the juvenile urge to give him the finger. Ryan opened her door, and helped her up on the tattered vinyl seat.  She decided to sit on both hands since the need to flip the ever-loving bird was still overpowering.  Childishness withstanding, she was going out in class, riding in a rusty, orange truck far away from Captiva Island…at least, over the bridge. 
       Blythe watched the palms go by as she bid farewell to the colorful houses that dotted the beach.  She was supposed to live here after marrying the man of her dreams, making a love nest in the house of her dreams - on an island where the rich played while making babies in the sun. Admittedly, a fairytale most girls discarded when they actually grew up.  She should have, too. 
       Therefore, Blythe put away her fairytales, understanding they could never exist when a faithless bastard owned her heart.  After such a thorough devastation, she wondered when she would ever get it back.
      The tears she thought wouldn’t come escaped anyway, pooling at her jawline before they streamed down her throat.  Ryan had given her every moment to contain herself until he pulled up at the tollbooth.  After handing a ten to the operator, he said, “I know what I want you to do, but you have to be sure, Blythe.  You can’t move forward if you’re always looking behind with regret.”
       “Narrow is the path, right?” 
    “Something like that.” He manually rolled up the window, giving it a good slam when it stuck, and crossed the invisible train tracks from Captiva Island to Fort Myers.
     
    “– so I know that it’s a lot to take in, but I’m asking you to understand,” Sixten said warily.
    Blythe’s mind came back to the present.  He had both of her hands in his, rubbing circles over her knuckles and giving her that infamous eye-smolder trick of his.  He must have been rambling during her mental outage, and she hadn’t heard a word he said, but she figured it was for the best. 
    She pulled her