Ismay hadn’t expected to dislike her prospective brother-in-law quite as much as she did. But he didn’t seem to care one way or another. He certainly wasn’t trying to impress her. He seemed to enjoy being an asshole and purposely tried to get under her skin.
“So you’ve been staying in the master?” he’d asked, feigning as though it was an innocent question when he was really intimating that she’d been rudely presumptuous to take that room as a guest—and a first-time guest at that.
“Only because Remy told me to,” she’d responded, feeling defensive. “I can move into his room. No problem.”
“I’d hate to put you out,” he’d said, but it wasn’t sincere, and he hadn’t protested when she’d packed up her suitcase and carried it to Remy’s room.
Had Remy known Bastian was coming to Mariners? Had he asked him to come because he was so upset she was alone with Bo? If so, he could’ve said something.
Eager to find out, she closed the door as soon as she could and tried to reach him, twice, but her calls transferred to voice mail.
Frustrated, she tossed her phone on the bed and took her time getting situated while waiting to hear back. Moving into Remy’s room was the logical choice, the one that wouldn’t be questioned, but she wished she could’ve gone into the downstairs guest room. Not only would that give her more separation from Bastian when she was sleeping—not that she considered him a true risk; she was just uncomfortable—it would put her in a space that didn’t remind her of what she’d found in the closet. She thought of those things often enough as it was. Being even closer to them—using that closet while being aware of that hole in the wall—creeped her out.
After she put her things away, she still hadn’t heard from Remy. Unwilling to leave the room, she sat on the bed, listening for Bastian’s movements in the house. She could hear him downstairs, probably in the kitchen, when she grabbed her phone again.
Remy hadn’t even wanted Bo to stay at the cottage one night, and yet she’d let him stay two.
But Bo had been the ultimate gentleman. No one had any reason to complain about his behavior...
She braced herself as the phone signaled a message. It could be that Bastian had shown up completely on his own, as he’d said. But had he let his brother know he’d found Bo in the house?
Either way, she was dying to talk to Remy and make sure everything was okay between them—and with his parents. There’d been an emergency, and maybe they didn’t approve of how she’d handled it, but they hadn’t been here, didn’t know what she and Bo had been up against.
That incoming text had come from Remy.
I saw your call the first time and will get back to you when I can. I’m studying. What’s up?
Can you step out of the library for a few minutes? I need to talk to you.
When he didn’t respond, she assumed he was doing as she’d asked—and knew that was the case only after she received a call five minutes later. He could’ve said, Sure, just a minute. But he was probably irritated by the interruption.
“I checked the weather report when I got up this morning. The storm’s moved on,” he said without so much as a hello. “Don’t tell me the power hasn’t come back on and the generator’s gone out.”
He didn’t seem to know about Bo. He didn’t seem to be aware that his twin brother was on the island, either. He would’ve said something right away had either of those things come to his attention. “The power’s not back on, but the generator’s working.”
“So what’s wrong? It’d better not be that you’re still worried about our caretaker. Bo’s resourceful. He’ll be fine.”
She considered admitting that she’d had Bo stay over again but decided not to bring it up. If Bastian told on her, she could always explain later. “Bastian’s here,” she said. As far as she was concerned, that was the bigger issue. When she’d decided to come to Mariners ahead of Remy, it was with the understanding that she’d have the house to herself, not that she’d be sharing it with a brother she’d never previously met.
“What’d you say?” Remy sounded surprised.
“I said Bastian’s here. He just...showed up out of the blue this morning.”
“Why? What’s he doing there?”
“I have no idea. That’s why I’m calling you.”
“Did he say how long he plans to stay?”
“I didn’t ask.” She lowered her voice just in case Bastian had come up the stairs. “He seemed pretty put out to find me in the master, so I’ve moved into your old room.”
“Why would he care if you’re in the master? Don’t tell me he’s taking it for himself...”
He didn’t seem to be concerned with her being in his old space. Did that mean he didn’t know what had been hidden in the wall?
Possibly. But it would also be safe to assume she’d never find it. That no one would. If not for that freak storm, she wouldn’t have. It was behind the wall.
“I think so,” she said. “It sounded like it. But I didn’t ask.”
“What the hell?! Let me call him and see what’s going on.”
Afraid Bastian would spin a salacious tale about her and Bo, Ismay cringed. Normally, she wouldn’t have cared. Any woman would be glad not to be alone in a strange house on a strange island while facing such a ferocious storm. And with Bo’s house the way it was, she couldn’t leave him—literally—out in the cold.
She’d chosen the safest option for both of them. That was all. And absolutely nothing untoward had happened.
And yet, as Remy disconnected so he could call his brother, she felt a niggle of guilt. She and Bo could’ve slept in separate rooms instead of on separate couches.
She could only hope it wouldn’t come up—but she didn’t think Bastian would miss such a golden opportunity to drive a wedge between her and Remy. He seemed to enjoy stirring up trouble.
She also felt guilty because she’d been glad of such a good excuse to have Bo stay over again. Sharing the cottage hadn’t been purely practical, like she wanted them to believe. She’d enjoyed spending time with him.
The weather was dry and clear. But that was the only thing Bo had going for him. Most of the stuff in his refrigerator and freezer had spoiled, and the power was still off when he got home, so he couldn’t even make toast. He’d had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before getting on the roof, but that was probably two hours ago, and he was hungry again.
He was also working at a deficit in other ways. The chainsaw he needed to finish chopping up the tree was out of gas. Since he didn’t want to take the time to go to town, he’d been reduced to using a hatchet. That made the process much slower, but at least he had most of the tree off the roof. He was just finishing up when he heard Ismay call his name.
As promised, she’d brought him breakfast. At least, it looked that way. She was holding up a picnic basket.
“You ready to eat?” she called out.
“In a sec. Stand back. Way back!” He gestured until she was at the edge of the surrounding thicket, well out of harm’s way. Then he managed to use a branch he’d chopped off as a lever to lift the heavy trunk, which went crashing to the ground.
“Now I am,” he called down and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket as he carefully made his way back to the ladder. The sun hadn’t been out long enough to dry the roof, so the shingles were still wet and slippery.
“How are things going with your new friend?” he asked once he’d reached the ground.
“This is probably mean to say about my future brother-in-law, but I don’t like him much,” she muttered with a grimace.
He almost told her she was in good company but decided that wasn’t very smart. Just because it felt like they were friends right now didn’t mean that wouldn’t change when Remy arrived. “Do you think he’s going to try to cause trouble?” he asked instead.
“I’m assuming that’s what he usually does.”
He beckoned her to the picnic table around back. No way did he want to take her into his soggy house. “Any idea how Remy will react?”
“No. When I called him earlier, he sounded blindsided. He said he wanted to talk to his brother and get back to me, but I haven’t heard from him yet. I think they’ve been fighting. Bastian stepped out of the house, presumably so I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but I could tell he was raising his voice, so I know they weren’t having a companionable discussion. I took the opportunity to make breakfast while I could be in the kitchen alone, left a plate for him on the table so he can’t claim you’re the only one I care about here—even though you are—and got out of there.” She laughed, then seemed to realize what she’d said and tried to correct it. “I mean, I don’t particularly like Bastian, so I wasn’t eager to make him breakfast. Not that I wouldn’t make Remy’s brother breakfast, or that I was eager to...”
He grinned at her when she realized she was just getting herself in deeper.
Letting her words trail off, she finally shoved the basket into his chest. “Here, take this.”
“I’m just glad to know you care about me,” he said, laughing.
“You’re going to get us both in trouble,” she muttered but he could tell she was having a hard time hiding her own smile.
He set the basket on the wooden table and started to open it. “I’m starving. What’d you make?”
“French toast with berries.”
“I haven’t had French toast in ages.”
“There are some scrambled eggs, too.” She offered him a smile, which he loved because of the way it lit up her eyes. “I’ve already learned you eat enough for an entire army.”
“You’re making me sound like a glutton. I guess I won’t tell you that I’ve already had a PBJ this morning.”
She rolled her eyes. “Are you going to be able to get the hole patched before nightfall?”
“I think so. According to the weather report, it’s not going to rain again—at least not in the next few days—so I’d rather start pumping the water out of the house, but—”
“No power,” she broke in.
He lifted out the plate she’d put in the basket and removed the plastic wrap. “Exactly.”
“At least your neighbor’s okay, and you’re not having to deal with that at the same time.”
“Thank God for small favors,” he muttered as he unrolled his silverware from a napkin.
She sat on the table while he sat on the bench and began to eat. “What if we strung extension cords all the way over here from the cottage?” she asked. “Would that work to pump the water out?”
He made a face to show he wasn’t thrilled by the idea. “It would take a lot of extension cords...”
“Well, think about it. If it’s possible, maybe that’s what you need to do.”
He was chewing, so he nodded instead of commenting.
She looked up at the trees overhead. “It’s pretty here.”
“I like it,” he said. “You can’t see the ocean like you can from the cottage, but this feels...private.”
“I don’t know anyone who values his privacy more than you...”
He had good reason for that, but he wasn’t about to let on, so he said nothing.
“I can help you clean up after you get the water out,” she offered.
“And miss all your time at the beach?”
She could obviously tell he was teasing her. It was apparent in her mock scowl. “Hey, I’ve earned this vacation,” she said, nudging him with her foot.
“I bet it hasn’t started out the way you thought it would...”
“No. And I’m not just referring to the storm.”
“Bastian?”
“Yeah. It’s kind of weird that he’d come on his own. Don’t you think?”
“I don’t try to make sense out of what other people do anymore,” he said with a chuckle.
“He just...makes me uncomfortable.”
Again, he chose not to say anything. He had to be careful. It might feel as though she was on his side right now, but...
She got out her phone. He assumed she was going to call Remy and was surprised she’d do it in front of him instead of waiting until she returned home. But she didn’t call anyone. She navigated to her pictures and hesitated as she looked at him.
“What?” he said, confused.
A determined expression came over her face, and she turned her screen toward him. “Have you ever seen this girl?”
He studied the picture of an old photograph. “No. Why? Should I?”
She turned her phone back and frowned at it for several seconds before putting it away. “No. Not necessarily.”
“Why do you ask?”
She didn’t seem as though she wanted to answer the question, which he found odd. “I was just curious.”
He was finished with the food she’d brought and had to get back to work, but he wondered why she’d wanted him to see that picture. “Do you know that girl?”
“No. I’ve never seen her before in my life.”
“Then why is she on your phone—in your photos?”
“I just thought...maybe she was from around here.”
“I haven’t lived on the island for very long, don’t know a lot of people. But Honey’s been here for fifty years, ever since she got married. You might ask her.”
She nibbled on her bottom lip. “Since I don’t know Honey, that might seem weird.”
“Then send that picture to me. I’ll ask her.”
“That’s okay...”
“You don’t want her to see it?”
She seemed to consider the question—and go back and forth on it—before ultimately saying, “I guess. Just...don’t show it to anyone else.”
He studied her, seeing the worry in her eyes. Something about this photograph troubled her. Why? “What’s going on? Where did you get that photograph?”
She shook her head. “Never mind. Just...forget about it,” she said and put his empty plate and silverware in the picnic basket. “I’d better get back.”
Remy called while she was walking to the house, so Ismay put the picnic basket on the ground near the stairs to the front door and veered off to walk along the beach, picking her way through the debris left by the storm. “Hello?”
“You’re not going to believe this,” he said.
She couldn’t help but tense. “What?”
“Bastian is staying for at least a week.”
She stopped and turned toward the sea. The surf was so tranquil it was difficult to believe it had ever been so rough. “It’ll be just him and me for seven days or more?”
“Sounds like it,” he replied. “I called my mom, but she said he needs the break.”
“In what way?”
“As a stress-reliever, I guess.”
“From what you’ve told me, he doesn’t have much to stress out about. It’s not as if he could lose his job, or won’t be able to pay his rent, or—”
“That’s exactly what I said to my mom. But she said we can’t judge—just support.”
Ismay began rubbing her left temple. This trip wasn’t turning out to be anything like she’d envisioned. “I see...”
“But it’s a big house,” Remy said, his tone conciliatory. “I don’t think he’ll get in your way.”
Get in her way? He’d already gotten in her way. He’d made Bo feel he’d taken advantage simply because she’d convinced him to stay where it was warm and dry. She’d had to change rooms to accommodate Bastian, and now she was using that closet. She’d had to hurry to make breakfast before Remy’s brother came back down so she could do it in peace—without him baiting her in one way or another. But how did she explain that to Remy? He could say terrible things about his brother—and had—but she couldn’t. That would never be wise, not if she planned on becoming part of the family. After all, blood is thicker than water was a saying for a reason. “Right.”
“So...you’re okay with it?”
What choice did she have? Unless she wanted to leave and fly clear across the country—back to LA, where he was too busy studying to spend any time with her, or to Utah, to stay with her own family while they were going through the nightmare of what was happening to Jack—she was stuck. If she went to Utah, Remy would just want her to come back out again once he arrived. She couldn’t afford to do that. He’d probably offer to pay for it, but she was careful not to let him do too much. It didn’t feel right. Her father had always been a stickler about paying her own way, because it was the right thing to do and it meant she wouldn’t have to feel indebted to anyone. “Of course.”
“It might be a good opportunity for the two of you to get to know each other,” Remy said.
Ismay recalled Bastian’s smirk when he first entered the house and found Bo sleeping on one couch. “Yeah, I’d like that.” It wasn’t remotely true, but if nothing else, she owed Remy and his family for letting her stay.
“Okay. I told him he’d better not be a dick.”
In Ismay’s mind, that was like telling a fish he’d better not breathe through his gills. But she bit her tongue. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
“Good. I’d better get back to studying.”
“Remy?” she said before he could disconnect.
“What?”
“Has Bastian ever used your room?”
“For what?” he asked.
“I mean, was it ever his room? Or were you both in there together, maybe back in the old days when the cottage was smaller?”
“No. We’ve never shared a room. The cottage has never been that small. Why?”
She stared off into the distance, at the sun glistening off the water. That last question had been stupid; they would’ve been too young back then. She was just grasping at straws, hoping against hope that she could find an answer that would satisfy the part of her mind that kept screaming something was wrong. “I was just curious,” she said and let him go.
She was turning to make her way—reluctantly—back to the cottage, where she’d have to face Bastian, when a text came in from Bo.
Power’s on.
Thank God she wasn’t going to have to worry about him staying in that water-logged house with a big hole in the roof.
The day dragged on until Jack got up off the couch and went to work. He’d rather be busy. Lying around only made things worse. But as soon as he parked his truck in his parents’ drive, he almost balked. He didn’t want to face his whole family and the sympathy he knew he’d see in their eyes. Thinking he’d beg off again and go to bed, even though it was only three thirty in the afternoon, he almost put his transmission in Reverse. But then his father came to the door of the barn and saw him, so he got out and strode over.
In true Buzz fashion, he didn’t say much. But Hank was there, too. When Hank started to grill him, Buzz barked an order for his brother to go wash down the tractor.
“How’d it go this morning?” his father asked.
Remembering Jessica marching around his house, hauling boxes and taking down the drapes, Jack stretched his neck. “It’s hard to explain,” he said. Saying too much went against the loyalty he still felt toward his wife. He wasn’t sure why he was still hanging on. Maybe he just couldn’t let go.
At this answer, his father nodded once and strode off to the barn where they stored their produce until they could take it to market.
“Dad?” Jack called before he could get too far away.
Buzz turned.
“How do you get through something like this?”
Buzz thought for a moment. Then he said, “You just do, because you don’t have any other choice.”
Jack drew a deep breath, hoping it would help him withstand the crushing pressure on his chest. “Got it.”
“You can’t fold,” his father said. “Where would that get you?”
Nowhere. It would get him nowhere. There really was no way out, and yet, he didn’t see how he could continue to function.
“Your mother and brothers need help harvesting the snap peas. You’d better get out in the field,” he said, then added, “The best way to handle what life throws you is to keep fighting.”
Jack nodded. He could do it. He could be strong like his father, he told himself, and started out to the acreage closest to the highway.
His youngest brother noticed him first, said his name and pointed. When their mother looked up, he saw the pain and worry in her face he’d been expecting to see, but he no longer dreaded being with her and his siblings. They were the ones who loved him. They were the ones who would never leave.
“Hello, son,” his mother said when he got close enough.
She searched his face earnestly, and he manufactured a smile for her sake. When he hurt, so did she, he realized. Besides that, he doubted Ashleigh would have much to do with his family from here on out. Betty had lost someone she considered a daughter. “Hi, Mom. You got a bowl for me?”
“Oliver, give your brother your bowl and go get another one from the barn,” she said.
Twelve-year-old Oliver handed him his bowl, then he threw his arms around Jack’s waist and squeezed tight for just a second before ducking his head, obviously embarrassed, and running off.