I wait until she steps away—until there’s just enough space—then I grab her arm.
“What was that?” I whisper.
She stops.
Turns.
Her eyes are cold.
Not angry. Not embarrassed.
Cold. Blue and flat, like polar ice caps under a cloudless sky.
“I told you that in confidence,” I say, my voice shaking despite my best effort. “Why would you say something like that?”
She looks at me for a long second.
Then she says, very quietly, “He should have told me.”
My chest tightens. “Sage?—”
“I shouldn’t have had to hear it fromyou,” she continues, voice still calm, still deadly. “He put me in that position. Not you, Beth.”
I can’t find any words.
She holds my gaze another second, then turns away like the conversation never happened.
The shoreline is closer now. Plymouth coming into view.
My skin feels too tight. My thoughts too loud.
I retreat below deck under the excuse of grabbing bags, my heart pounding like I’ve done something unforgivable.
A minute later, footsteps sound on the stairs.
Ethan.
He ducks into the bathroom, then pauses when he sees me hovering by the counter.
“Hey,” he says. “You okay?”
I swallow. “Ethan—wait. I need to say something.”
He frowns slightly, concern flickering across his face. “What’s up?”
“I’m so sorry,” I say, words tumbling out now. “She cornered me earlier and it just—came out. I didn’t mean for it to. I swear.”
His brow furrows. “Came out… what?”
“She asked about Kate and Kristen.”
He groans instantly, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Jesus.”
“I told her about the drunk kiss,” I say quickly. “A lifetime ago. I told her it meant nothing.”
Another groan. This one heavier.
I wince. “I’m really sorry.”
