Lead Me Back To You (A Nick Sturniolo Story)

One

The wind howled early in the morning, serving as a comforting lullaby for Alex Donovan, who had lived on Wight for nearly a decade. Unlike those who woke to birdsong, Alex's eyelids fluttered open to the wailing harmony of the wind and sea. It wasn't quite a storm, but the end of October always brought more temperamental weather, as if nature were slowly preparing for the harsh winter months to come. Alex shivered slightly as he pulled his comforter closer, hiding his neck under the covers. Most of the B&B's windows were closed, including the one in his room, but the wind's whistling could still be heard clearly—an impatient and demanding companion that could never be fully ignored.

With a sigh, Alex reached blindly under his pillow for his phone. Turning it on, he blinked quickly as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. He didn't need to check the time to know it was half past five; his body was so accustomed to his routine that it was basically a given. Almost smirking when the phone confirmed his suspicion, he quickly frowned upon seeing the battery was only at 40%. He'd have to wait until seven o'clock to charge it, as that was when the power came back on the island every morning.

Alex inhaled slowly, letting out a deep sigh before putting the phone away. He always preferred a higher percentage when he got up since music was the only thing that made his morning jog bearable, and the thought of it dying mid-run was less than optimal. Still, there was nothing he could do but hope his old iPhone wouldn't betray him today, despite its notorious battery-draining tendencies.

A small clatter outside his bedroom followed by a loud whine made Alex half-smile. Jasper, his dog, was already nosing at the door in anticipation, his nails clinking against the bottom. Alex rarely slept with the door closed because Jasper disliked being alone at night almost as much as Alex did. But a strong gust of wind from a forgotten open window must have forced it shut, locking his dog outside. Just as the thought entered Alex's mind, Jasper let out a louder whine.

"'Kay," Alex mumbled to himself in a raspy voice, "time to get up."

There was a sense of urgency now. He needed to walk the dog— and jog in the process, even though his body loathed the idea of keeping fit—then shower before the guests started waking up and demanding breakfast. Luckily, only one room was currently occupied at the South Lighthouse B&B, by a married couple in their mid-sixties who, braver than most, had booked time off on Wight late in the autumn. Alex's establishment was usually eerily empty this late in the season, as tourists were not eager to spend their winter on a cold, practically deserted island subject to harsh weather. Alex, who had seen more than one visitor end up trapped for days after their planned departure due to violent storms, couldn't blame them. Money was always tight in the winter, so he appreciated Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson's late holiday. It wouldn't be the end of the world if he served them breakfast late, as they were an understanding bunch, and their ferry back to the mainland only left in the afternoon. But Alex prided himself on the quality of service in his establishment, meaning breakfast was served every day between half-past eight and ten o'clock. No delays. No exceptions.

Pushing the duvet off his body, Alex fought his strong instinct to stay curled up and warm. He shivered as he made his way down the ladder of his single bed, which he had been mercilessly teased for by his siblings. The old lighthouse keeper's accommodation was always the most logical choice for his permanent residence. It was the smallest bedroom on site, cramped and mostly uncomfortable, with nothing but the bed, a dresser, and a small window. It was built to be functional rather than comfortable.

Alex could charge for the experience since the room was almost identical to what it looked like when the last lighthouse keeper lived there. Back in the days before the tower was decommissioned, the keeper lived in what resembled a ship's cabin while his family lived in the much more comfortable cottage next door. Now, there was an annex joining the two buildings for the guests' convenience, allowing them to walk from the B&B's main building to the tower's reading nook without facing Wight's windy weather. The drafty corridor made Alex's bedroom cold and uncomfortable even on the warmest summer days. Alex could never, in good conscience, charge people to stay there. It was always going to be his own, as depressing as it might be, and Alex quickly started mentally referring to it as a tiny loft, with his bed as the only thing on the second floor, just to make it less unbearable. Though truth be told, Alex preferred being close to the tower, even if his responsibilities didn't involve it as his predecessors' did. It was nice to be out of the way when his home was full of strangers for half of the year. And when the B&B was empty, Alex could go straight from his bed to the top of the lighthouse in one minute to enjoy the view. It was pretty amazing, considering. Alex didn't spend much time in the reading nook when the B&B was full of tourists, but during winter, when the island grew quiet and still, Alex rarely spent an evening anywhere else.