10

Bo was dealing with so much, it seemed stupid to Ismay—not to mention self-indulgent and lazy—to sit around while he managed all the cleanup and repairs on his own.

When she told Bastian she was going over to help, he said Bo was getting paid better than most caretakers—it was a matter of pride for his mother—it was his job and he’d be fine. But she refused to make her decision based on that argument. Besides, she had nothing better to do.

She thought Bastian might call Remy, who’d tell her to stay away from the bungalow, using the excuse that it wasn’t safe now that part of the roof had caved in or whatever. But as far as she could tell, Bastian hadn’t said anything about finding Bo in the cottage, so she thought there was a chance he wouldn’t tell Remy about this, either.

Bo turned, his eyes widening when she knocked on his door, which was already standing open, carrying another picnic basket full of food. “What’s going on?” he asked. “You’ve brought lunch?”

She nodded with a grin. “And I’m here to help with the cleanup. It doesn’t make sense that you’re the only one working.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Bastian didn’t try to stop you?”

She set the basket on the counter. “How’d you know?”

“Just an educated guess,” he said with a chuckle.

“He said it’s your job.”

“That’s true.”

“But you’ve also just been through a hurricane—or as close to a hurricane as I’ve ever experienced—and you’re racing the clock. I might as well lend a hand.”

“This is supposed to be your vacation.”

“Yeah, well...” She looked behind her, then lowered her voice. “It’s a vacation just to get out of the cottage.”

She meant get away from Bastian; she just didn’t want to say it. But judging by the look on Bo’s face, he understood. He opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something along those lines himself but closed it again.

“What?” she prompted.

“Nothing,” he replied. “I work for the Windsors. I’m grateful for my job.”

“Right. I get that. Don’t mind me. I’m just blowing off steam. The storm was difficult enough, and now... I think I’m going to struggle to get along with Bastian. He was pretty rude this morning.”

Bo hesitated for a second. But then he said, “He can be like that.”

“I guess he’s always been the bad twin, huh?”

“Not always.”

“What do you mean?”

“Believe it or not, it was Remy who was more difficult as a child.”

Ismay was surprised Bo would know this information. “Really? In what way?”

He shrugged before he started to sweep the debris on the floor into a pile. “It’s just what I’ve heard. How long’s Bastian staying?”

“I don’t know. That’s the thing.”

“And Remy’s okay with him being there?”

“Seems like it. Told me it might be a good time for us to get to know each other.”

“Maybe it will be. You’ll soon be related.”

After this morning, that wasn’t the most welcome thought... “True. So, how can I help?”

“I’ve got most of the water dealt with. I’m just sweeping and cleaning now. I’ll be okay on my own.”

There was still a gaping hole in the roof. She could see a patch of sky through it. “Why don’t you cover the roof with a tarp or something and let me take over with the cleaning?”

“Are you really set on doing that?” he asked.

“Of course. I’m a farmer’s daughter,” she replied. “I’m not afraid of hard work.”

Ismay and Bo were sitting, exhausted, at his kitchen table, eating the spicy hummus, cucumber, and sprout pita sandwiches she’d made, with potato salad and some sliced apples on the side, when Bastian knocked. Bo saw him through the peephole, muttered, “It’s Bastian,” and opened the door.

“What’s going on?” Bastian said. “Is Ismay still here?”

Bo swung the door wider, so he could come in, and gestured at the table.

Ismay left her plate and got up. “Is something wrong?”

Bastian looked at the meal they had spread out on the table, along with a couple of beers from Bo’s fridge—about all that had survived the power outage—then at each one of them. “I guess I wasn’t invited to this little party.”

“Party?” Ismay echoed. Did Bastian have to mischaracterize everything? He had to be doing it on purpose, just to bug them. There was nothing wrong with helping someone after a storm, but Bastian somehow imbued it with a sleazy quality, as if she shouldn’t be over here. “I just finished cleaning the floors, the fridge, and the freezer, and Bo just got off the roof. This is the first chance we’ve had to eat since I came over. But I left you some potato salad and the pita stuff in the fridge so you could make your own, as I told you earlier. Didn’t you eat?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I’m not big on rabbit food.”

It was so strange to love a man who looked exactly like Bastian but not care for Bastian at all.

“Tastes great to me,” Bo said.

“Just saying, I prefer a juicy burger or some fish and chips,” he responded, “which is why I went to Samsons by the Sea. I thought for sure you’d be home by the time I got back...”

What was he implying? That he was judging how she spent her time? Keeping track of her? “Are you saying you were worried about me?” she asked, choosing the most favorable possibility.

“Just wondering what you could be doing over here for so long.”

She gestured around them. “If you’d seen this place before, it would be obvious.”

“Looks pretty good now.”

“Because we’ve spent hours cleaning it. I wish we could’ve gotten some fans today. But there’s only one restoration company on the island, and it’s been overrun.”

“Are you saying you have to come back tomorrow because now you need to get the fans up for Bo?”

Although Bo didn’t react to Bastian’s goading in an overt way, Ismay could see the subtle tightening around his eyes and mouth. He didn’t like Bastian any more than she did. She didn’t see how anyone could. Did the man have any friends?

Maybe that was part of his problem. He’d never learned how to get along with his peers.

“Bastian—” She was finally ready to call him on his behavior, and he could probably tell because he held up a hand and began laughing.

“Don’t get bent out of shape, sis. I’m joking. I was just about to watch a movie and wanted to see if you’d like to join me.”

Ismay didn’t know how to react. She didn’t find his kind of humor funny, and to switch gears so quickly was jarring. “I’ll head back when we’re finished eating,” she said and, refusing to succumb to the pressure he was putting on her, she sat back down in front of her meal.

“Got it.” Bastian winked at her before swinging his gaze to Bo. “I bet you’re glad Ismay’s here. This would’ve been a lot harder without her.”

“He didn’t ask for my help,” Ismay volunteered.

“But I’m grateful for it,” Bo said.

Because they were supporting each other, there wasn’t much more Bastian could do to cause trouble, and he seemed to recognize that. “Okay, well, see you back at the house,” he said and left.

After Bo closed the door, he paused at the kitchen sink—presumably to watch Bastian leave—before returning to the table.

“Sorry about that,” Ismay murmured. She knew Bo had to hate Bastian’s patronizing tone. Remy’s brother was obviously trying to assert his superiority, but the fact that he felt the need to do that told Ismay he had self-esteem issues. Bastian probably felt threatened by Bo’s quiet confidence, his self-assured manner, or just that indefinable something that made him so likeable. “He seems to have a problem with you. Has that always been the case?”

“It seems more pronounced than before. But don’t worry about it,” Bo said. “I’ve dealt with more than my fair share of assholes.”

Ismay suffered through watching a movie with Bastian. He talked over most of it, but she wasn’t that interested, anyway. He’d chosen a predictable action flick with exploding cars and men hanging from helicopters, and her mind was on other things. The stuff she’d found in the closet. The girl’s picture she’d put on her phone. The comment Bo had made about Remy being the more difficult twin when they were children.

Who had told him that? And more difficult in what way?

Then there was her curiosity as to why Bastian had come to the island. He’d known she’d be here, that he wouldn’t have the house to himself. But then, she got the impression he didn’t like being alone. Maybe he’d been curious about her and simply wanted to meet her, plus coming here got him out of work. She’d heard plenty about how he avoided any kind of responsibility.

She was also thinking about Jack. Her sensitive, hardworking brother had to be devastated. She’d texted him as she walked back from Bo’s, and he’d replied with a text that said he was surviving. He couldn’t talk at the time, was currently helping harvest the snow peas on the farm, but she hoped they could speak later. She knew how hard it would be for him to go home to an empty house. Could she get him to come to Mariners for the summer? Could he be honest enough with their parents to admit that he didn’t want to follow in their footsteps?

Even if he did want to be a farmer, she believed some time away—to meditate, cope with the divorce, and see another part of the country—would be good for him. What Ashleigh had done would be old news by the time he returned, which would take the edge off the spread of that gossip. And if he came right away, she could spend some quality time with him before Remy arrived—no matter where he stayed—and have a good excuse to escape Bastian.

“Can you believe he did that?”

Ismay blinked and looked over at Remy’s brother. “I’m sorry. What are you referring to?”

“Aren’t you watching?” he asked.

She cleared her throat. “I admit...my mind was wandering. My brother’s currently going through a divorce. I’m worried about him.”

“Which brother?” Bastian said. “Remy told me you have like...a hundred.”

He laughed, and she forced herself to smile, but in that moment, she knew she had to get away from him. He’d exhausted her patience. “It’s Jack, the brother closest to me in age. Listen, I’m pretty tired. With the storm, it was hard to get enough sleep—”

“Even with Bo here?” he broke in.

She gritted her teeth before forcing her jaw to relax. “We were up late, what with the damage to his house and the power going out, and all that. I’m going to turn in. I hope you don’t mind.”

“You don’t want to watch the rest of the movie?”

Hadn’t she just said that? “No. I’m going to go call my brother.”

“It’s nearly eleven. Will he be up at this hour?”

“It’s two hours earlier in Utah, and he was working when I tried to reach him earlier. He’ll probably just be getting home.”

Bastian gestured at the TV. “We can watch something else if you’d rather...”

Ignoring the offer, she got up. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, and felt a rush of relief once she’d climbed the stairs and closed the door to Remy’s bedroom behind her.

“Thank God,” she murmured and took out her phone. She was just sitting on the bed to call Jack when she received a text from Bo.

With you, she wanted to add, but knew that probably wouldn’t sound right, given her relationship with Remy.

She chuckled at his response. Not for you.

That was the worst thing Bo had allowed himself to say about Bastian, and it was a good point. She sent a laughing emoji. But then she felt guilty for talking about her fiancé’s brother in such derogatory terms and changed the subject.

She’d been expecting a carpentry book or something like that—even a crime novel—but not one of the old classics.

She hadn’t been entirely serious. But why not give it a chance? She’d read a lot of the classics growing up but never that one.

Her friendship with Bo was the only thing that was making her trip to the island tolerable. At least so far. She waited, hoping he’d say good-night. But she didn’t receive anything else from him.

With a sigh, she called her brother.

For the first time in his life, Jack had taken a sleep aid. It hadn’t been too powerful—he’d purchased it over the counter on his way home from the farm—so he hadn’t been sure it would work. But miraculously, it had. He fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow and didn’t wake up until the following morning at five thirty, his regular time, since he had to be at the farm at six o’clock.

He felt much better for a moment—clearheaded and free of pain. Then everything he’d been avoiding washed over him, and he groaned. Ashleigh’s leaving hadn’t just been a nightmare, as he’d hoped in those first few seconds of wakefulness. Living without her—being single and soon divorced—was his new reality.

He grabbed his phone half-hoping she’d tried to reach him. To take it all back. But she hadn’t. All he had was a missed call from his sister.

Ismay was worried about him. He felt bad that he hadn’t been more responsive. But he had to cope the best way he could, and that was what he’d been doing.

He checked the time on his phone again. It’d be seven thirty on Mariners. She’d probably be up, but just in case she wasn’t, he didn’t want to risk waking her. This was supposed to be vacation time, her chance to lounge around before starting her law practice.

He climbed out of bed, stood under the spray of a too-hot shower, then hurried to dress.

After he ate some cold cereal, he left his bowl in the sink. That wasn’t what he’d normally do. He would’ve rinsed it and put it in the dishwasher so Ashleigh wouldn’t wake up to a mess. But now that he was on his own, what did it really matter?

It was growing light as he pulled into his parents’ driveway, but he could see that the barn door stood open. His father—and most likely Hank—were already out of the house, which came as no surprise. Buzz was nothing if not punctual. The rest of his brothers, except Ryan, who was away at college, wouldn’t be available to help again until after they got home from school.

He turned off his engine, then sat in his truck staring out at the land on which he’d been born and raised. Did he want to live here his entire life? Die here like his parents would?

His father appeared in the doorway of the barn and looked over at him, so Jack got out.

Buzz waited as he trudged over. “You sleep okay last night?” he asked when Jack was close enough.

Apparently, he didn’t look much better than he felt, or his father probably wouldn’t seem quite so worried. “I did.” With a little help from the pill he’d taken. He didn’t mention that, because he knew his father wouldn’t like it. “I can’t imagine Ashleigh with Jessica,” he said. “I just can’t wrap my mind around her being with anyone else.”

“Don’t imagine it,” his father recommended and Jack followed him into the barn.

Sure enough, Hank was there, his dark blond hair standing up on one side, a testament to the fact he’d come to work right after rolling out of bed. “You okay, bro?” he said.

This time, Jack was able to meet his brother’s gaze and nod.

“I’m sorry. I feel terrible for you. I feel sorry for all of us. We loved Ashleigh, too, you know?”

He nodded. “Thanks. I’m just...hoping I can recover a bit before word starts to spread.”

Hank exchanged a look with their father.

“What?” Jack said.

“Word is already starting to spread,” Buzz replied.

A sick feeling rose in the pit of Jack’s stomach, making him wish he’d skipped breakfast. “How do you know?”

Hank indicated a basket covered with a towel sitting on one of the tables that held bushels of snow peas. “The Sandersons left that on the doorstep last night.”

“What’s in it?” Jack asked.

“All kinds of baked goods,” Hank replied.

Jack walked over to take a look. He found a large loaf of banana nut bread, a dozen or more chocolate chip cookies in a red tin, several jars of peach jam, a jar of local honey, and some homemade fudge. The card read We are thinking of you at this difficult time with love and support. The Sandersons.

“That’s really nice,” he said. “But...how would the Sandersons know?” Although they were members of the same church and attended the same meetings, they weren’t related to any of the families involved.

“Who knows?” Hank said. “We knew news would spread fast, and...I guess that’s what it’s doing.”

Jack looked down at his phone and eyed that missed call from his only sister. Ismay had said he should come out to Mariners—escape, get away.

“What is it?” Hank asked when he didn’t speak for several long moments.

“I’m leaving for a couple of months,” he said.

Buzz had been fixing some broken baskets, fitting them with twine for the handles. At this, his head jerked up. “You’re what?”

“I’m going to stay with Ismay on Mariners.”

His father spoke carefully, calculatedly—as if he didn’t want to set Jack off. “Okay, but...what will you do for work?”

“If I can’t get a job there waiting tables or whatever, I guess I’ll do nothing. But—” he took one more look at that basket and imagined what it would be like to walk into church for the next several weeks, possibly months, depending on whether Ashleigh and Jessica continued attending, and shook his head “—there’s no way in hell I’m staying here.”