’d known for a while that Lily had a deep-seated need for perfection. I hadn’t realized that she also had a need for speed.

“Boat incoming!” I yelled in her ear, my voice nearly lost to the wind and the sound of the engine revving as Lily angled the Jet Ski into a major wave at forty-five degrees.

“I see it,” she yelled back, her blond ponytail whipping in the wind—and at my face. “Hold on!”

My arms were wound around her waist, my fingers clutching the straps on her life vest. She cut across the main channel going full throttle, then hung a left past three massive coves. A small island, boasting a scattering of trees and the remains of a house, came into view. We barreled past it and into a long and narrow cove on the far side. Lily eased off the gas, letting her hands fall from the handlebars as we cruised slowly to a stop near the back of the cove. Compared to the main channel, the water here was like glass. The world was quiet—remarkably so, given how loudly I’d had to yell to be heard a minute earlier.

“Nice place,” I told Lily, letting loose of her life jacket and shaking out my hands. “I especially like the way I can no longer see my life flashing before my eyes.”

As was her style, Lily remained utterly unruffled. “I have no idea what you could possibly be implying.”

For pretty much the first time since I’d met her, her hair looked unkempt—windblown and free.

Lily must have noticed the way I was looking at her, because she seemed compelled to offer an explanation. “The lake is my happy place. It always has been. Mama isn’t a fan of the heat. Or the water. Or the bugs. But Daddy and John David and I have always loved it up here.”

I couldn’t afford to let that hurt. “I can see why,” I said instead, letting my head fall back and taking in the wide expanse of sky above.

“That’s King’s Island.” Lily gestured to the small blot of land we’d passed on the way in. “No one’s lived there for years.”

“King’s Island,” I repeated. “On Regal Lake.” You would have thought that this was the Hamptons, not a man-made body of water in a region of the state known for its red dirt and surplus of deer. “Looks to me like this is a place where we won’t be overheard.”

“I’ll tell you everything I know,” Lily promised. “Just let me turn around so we can face each other. When I go left, you go right. We should be able to keep our balance if—”

Feeling wicked, I hooked an arm around her waist and leaned hard to the left, taking us both over the side and into the lake. Lily might have swallowed a bit of water. She definitely snorted in a most unladylike manner.

“Sawyer!” She began paddling toward the Jet Ski, which had floated several yards away when we’d gone in.

“What?” I said, feeling more like myself than I had in hours. “The sun is high, and the water feels good. Now talk.”

“There’s not that much to tell,” Lily warned me. “Until I saw the boxes sitting on our beds, I wasn’t one hundred percent certain the White Gloves actually existed.”

“A suburban legend?” I quipped. Before Lily could offer a retort, I processed the rest of what she’d said. “Our invitations were inside the house when you arrived?”

“And all of the doors were locked.”

Now she’d piqued my interest. “What exactly does the rumor mill say about the White Gloves?”

“That they’re a secret society. That they recruit freshmen at State, U-of, and a handful of private colleges in a three-state region. Female-only, very exclusive.”

In the world Lily had grown up in, exclusive meant wealthy. It meant old money, power, and status, having the luxury never to talk—or even think—about money at all.

“We should go tonight,” Lily said. “Right?” She laid her arms on the back edge of the Jet Ski and rested her chin on her wrist. “I know where The Big Bang is. We could tell Mama we’re sleeping over with Sadie-Grace. Lord knows Sadie-Grace’s daddy won’t know the difference.”

“Who are you,” I deadpanned, “and what have you done with Lily Taft Easterling?”

“I’ve done everything that’s expected of me, Sawyer. My whole life, I’ve dotted i’s and crossed t’s. I followed the rules. I was everything I was supposed to be, right up until I started Secrets.”

Everyone had their own way of coping with trauma. Mine involved a lot of compartmentalizing and a healthy amount of denial. Lily had coped with Walker dumping her last summer by creating a risqué photo blog where she wrote other people’s secrets on her skin.

“You miss it,” I commented. “Secrets on My Skin.”

I waited for her to tell me that I was wrong, but instead, she righted herself in the water. “Walker.”

What about him? I twisted my torso, allowing my fingertips to skim the surface of the water as I turned in the direction of her gaze. About a hundred yards away, a Jet Ski passed King’s Island and began to slow. I had no idea how Lily had recognized its driver from this distance, but I didn’t doubt her claim.

Lily Easterling had impeccable instincts about two and only two things: proper etiquette and Walker Ames.

“Did you tell him we were here?” I asked.

“I haven’t talked to him all day.” Lily avoided my gaze. “But Walker and Campbell are the reason I know this place. Their house is on the point opposite King’s Island, just two coves away.”

I didn’t have the chance to ask Lily if there was a reason she and Walker hadn’t talked, before he glided into earshot and cut the engine. He slowed his forward momentum by holding his legs out to the sides, allowing his feet to drag in the water.

“Salutations, ladies.” Walker took off his life vest, hung it over the handlebars of his Jet Ski, and dove into the water. He emerged seconds later, right between me and Lily. Moisture beaded on his chest as he shook the water from his hair, splashing us both.

I would never have made a move on Walker, and he only had eyes for Lily regardless, but now that I knew that he wasn’t my brother, I didn’t try quite so hard not to enjoy the view. Then, slowly but surely, my mind turned to thinking about another chest.

Other arms.

Nick had very nice arms.

“As I live and breathe,” Walker quipped, drawing me back to the present. “Sawyer Taft and Lily Easterling. What are the chances of meeting the two of you here?”

Better than the chances of my path ever crossing Nick’s again. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since the night of my debutante ball. Not that I’d expected to. Not that I even really wanted to.

“Is that your way of saying you were hoping to have this cove to yourself?” Lily asked Walker, her tone prodding.

“Never.” Walker had inherited his father’s charm, but unlike the former senator, he was not a particularly skilled liar. My gut said that he hadn’t known we would be here. He certainly hadn’t come looking for us.

“How’s your mama?” Lily asked quietly.

There was a beat of silence. “She’s just fine.”

Walker didn’t want to talk about his mama. That made two of us. Charlotte Ames was not a member of the Sawyer fan club. Given that she believed me to be the product of her husband’s adultery, I was pretty sure she’d wished me six feet under more than once.

“Is it bad?” Lily asked Walker, her voice muted. He didn’t reply, and she pushed off the Jet Ski and glided through the water toward him. I averted my eyes as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Lily Taft Easterling was a properly bred young lady, a Southern miss to her toes. But right now, her hair was windblown and free, and Walker’s chest was wet, and I could not have been more of a third wheel if I’d tried.

“Don’t mind me,” I said loudly. “Certainly don’t refrain from PDA on my part. I’ll just be over here minding my own business.”

“Very considerate of you, little sis.”

Walker’s new nickname for me hit me hard. When we’d first met, he’d been in the tail end of a downward spiral and seemed to appreciate that I was immune to his charms. I insulted him, and he enjoyed it. That was our dynamic.

This was the first time he’d referred to me as his sister.

I have to tell him. I did everything in my power not to look from Walker to Lily. I have to tell both of them the truth, even if Lily hates me for it.

But I couldn’t make myself do it.

“Don’t call me that,” I said, and then, realizing that my reaction would probably make him refer to me that way more often, I changed the subject, hard and fast. “I hear the family business is under attack.”

“What are you talking about?” Lily said, before turning back to Walker, her arms still wrapped around his neck. “What is she talking about, Walker?”

“It’s nothing,” Walker told her. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“Just like your mama is fine?” Lily asked.

I was starting to regret bringing it up, but I could only compartmentalize so much.

“I don’t want to talk about the family business.” Walker bent his head forward, allowing his cheek to brush against Lily’s, before casting another sidelong glance at me. “That’s more Cam’s thing these days than mine.”

He’d just given me a reason—and an excuse—to get out of here before I said something else I would regret.

“Now that you mention it, Campbell and I are overdue for a little chat.” I paddled over to Walker’s Jet Ski. The lanyard with the key was still attached to the life vest he’d left on the handlebars. I unclipped the lanyard, attached it to my own vest, and threw his to him.

“Is it me,” Walker asked Lily, “or is your delightful cousin stealing my ride?”

“I’m not stealing it,” I corrected. “I’m taking it home. Not our lake house—yours. Two coves down, on the point across from King’s Island, right?”

Walker shook his head. “You are a strange girl, Sawyer Taft.”

“I prefer to think of myself as altruistic,” I countered. “This way, you and Lily get some privacy for the latest episode of Beautiful People in Semi-Functional Relationships, and I can have a word with your sister.”