Recently relocated to Prince Edward Island, MacKenzie Adamson starts to feel the isolation of country living. Starving for affection, companionship and love, the debilitating depression demons begin to sink their teeth into his already damaged psych...
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PROLOGUE
It had been four years. Sure there were good years, but they were in the beginning. Year one was probably the best. After that things started to slide. Year two had its moments, but that's the year Mac noticed Livia Johnson's attentions starting to wander. She would stare a little too long at a handsome man, a pedestrian on the street perhaps. In restaurants, she would flirt with handsome waiters—a little too long for what might be considered healthy flirtation. At first Mac didn't mind. Let them ogle her. I'm the one taking her home to bed. She can work out all that sexual frustration on me. But after a while, the flirtations became a little bolder, as if Livia was testing how far she could go before Mac blew up. Initially, he had kept his mouth shut. But the game was wearing thin. And, more than that, it was becoming painful. He had started with small comments, delivered evenly and without anger.
"Do you have to ogle him so long? I thought that smile was reserved for me? You kissed him? On the lips? I know it's a party but you hardly know him. You shouldn't let him touch you like that. Those areas are reserved for me."
But Livia always had an answer, accompanied by that infectious smile and seductive wink.
"Don't be so insecure. It's just harmless fun... Sure he's good-looking but you're my man... It was just an innocent kiss... We're just good friends, that's all... He didn't touch my boob. It was my shoulder. If I wasn't going out with you, I'd want a man just like him. But I am going out with you. You're my man forever."
It was building up inside Mac and reaching a boiling point. He just hoped he could control his explosive temper. It had gotten the better of him in the past, resulting in a litany of profanity and saying things he later regretted. He hoped three years of psychotherapy had fixed that.
At least his shrink had said, "You've come a long way, Mac. You're not the same person you once were."
He hoped that was true.
Yesterday, early evening, Mac and Livia had arrived at Vancouver's Locarno Beach for the weekly scratch volleyball game. A mid-summer night's game. It was a non-competitive, friendly affair that usually included plenty of alcohol during and after. Things had started well. Twelve people had arrived. They picked teams of five, with two participants standing out doing rotation. It also gave them an opportunity to swill some beer on the sidelines while waiting their turn to take the sand court.
Livia had stepped out along with a new arrival, a tall muscular man with a shock of black hair, a carefree attitude, and a winning smile. Lance was his name. They stood on the sidelines while the others played. Mac tried to concentrate on the game but couldn't help overhearing Lance and Livia's conversation.
Livia: "Did anyone ever tell you, you look like Johnny Depp?"
Lance chuckled and ogled her fine cleavage. "Yeah, I've heard it quite a bit actually."
