Page 50

“How can I help you?” I ask him. “I’m Mr. Abbott.” I hold the kid’s uncertain gaze, my own steely and direct. “And there’s definitely no missus.”

Not unless you count the one currently laughing with a seven-year-old on the other side of the firepit.

“Oh. Um. My uncle, Vincent Marchetti? He said to come here and find you.” The kid’s voice cracks slightly, but he keeps going. “I’m here to work for you. For the summer. He said I could stay with you.”

Eden looks up, her eyes catching mine. She looks confused. I shake my head and give a shrug, telling her I have no idea what’s going on. I don’t want her to say a damn thing right now.

Not when our perfectly managed secret is at risk of exploding. And I’m not at all ready for it.

“Interesting,” I say, putting my hand on the kid’s back. “Let’s head up to the house and talk.”

fifteen

WEST

We stride up the steps and the conversation around the fire sparks up again, thank god. I keep my body casual, my expression easy, because I don’t want anybody to know I’m panicking inside.

Luckily the kid walks fast – must be those gangly legs – and he keeps up an inane stream of chatter as we head to the top of the cliff.

“This place is insane. I’ve never been anywhere like this. Did you know they don’t have Uber here? Just some guy who takes about two hours to pick you up, and only if he feels like it or hasn’t been drinking.”

That’ll be Simon.

“Uhuh.” I interject occasionally, happy for him to entertain himself with his own voice. His accent is hard to place. Like he grew up half the time in Brooklyn and the other half in L.A. and nowhere in between.

By the time we reach the Captain’s House, I’ve figured two things out. Firstly, this kid talks like his brain is permanently buffering. And secondly, if I don’t take control of this situationand persuade him to keep his mouth shut, everything around me is going to implode.

I push the back door open, ushering him into the kitchen.

“WOW! Is this house real? Or is it a replica?” he asks, looking around the room with wide eyes. “Like the ones at Disney? It’s so old fashioned.”

“It’s real.” I close the door behind him, and look up at the camera system I know Asher installed. No blinking red light, which means it isn’t on, thank god. I gesture at the table, and he sits down on a kitchen chair, his long legs folding awkwardly beneath it, like he has no idea where to put them.

“Hey is this…”

I lift a finger up. “Please just be quiet for a minute.” I need to think without him asking me any more damn questions.

He blinks, startled into silence, still clutching his messenger bag like it’s a childhood teddy bear.

Time to take control of the situation, Abbott.

“What’s your name?” I ask, realizing he never told me.

His face lights up like I offered him a million bucks. “Bennett Avery,” he says, a little breathless. “Well, actually, it’s Bennett Vincent Avery. My mom wanted a family name in there, even though she married my dad. Well, not exactly married, it was more of a six-month mistake. At least that’s what she calls it. She hated him until the day he died.”

This is never going to work. The kid spills secrets like a well gushes oil. “Well, Bennett, it’s great to meet you, but things are a little… busy around here right now. How about we get you back to the mainland, I call your uncle, and we clear this all up?”

He shakes his head. “Oh no, I have to stay here.”

I blink. “Youhaveto?”

“Yeah. Uncle Vin said you were a close friend. That you’d look after me for the summer. He said this place was quiet and safe and ideal for professional development.” Bennett glancesaround like the ghost of Steve Jobs might be hiding in the pantry. “And it is. Like, I can already tell I’m gonna grow here, you know?”

My jaw tightens. The kid can’t be more than twenty years old, and he’s already the bane of my existence.

“And it’s better if I’m here while Uncle Vin sorts out the whole misunderstanding with the law,” he adds.

“What misunderstanding?” I ask.