Her eyebrows rise in unison, and she glances over at me from across the room, like she wants to make sure I saw how close she was to making him hers. “I like the ones that play hard to get,” she says with a wink.
I drop the blanket and two sandwiches onto the small kitchen table with a thump then turn for the door. And Bo is suddenly right behind me.
“If you miss me, Bo,” she cajoles, smirking as she watches us leave, “you know where to find me.” But Bo slams the door shut then slides the board back into place.
“You were right,” he says. “She’s one of them.”
***
Bo and I walk the perimeter of the island like we’re surveying it, watchmen on duty, scanning the boundary for marauders—as if the Swan sisters were going to swim ashore by the thousands and take over our small island. I am on edge. Fidgety. Certain none of this will end well.
Gigi Kline is locked in the boathouse. People will be looking for her. Davis and Lon want her dead; the Sparrow police are trying to locate her and return her to her parents. And we are somehow right in the middle of it.
I’m still not entirely sure what we’re going to do with her.
“Do you want to come up to the house for dinner?” I ask Bo when the sun starts to set. We’ve spent most of our time in his cottage, alone, never in the main house.
He lifts his hat to brush a hand through his hair before placing it back on his head, lower this time, so it’s hard to see his eyes. “What about your mom?”
“She won’t mind. And it wasn’t really a request but a demand. I’m not about to leave you alone; you might decide to go for a swim again.” I say it with a grin, even though it’s not funny. He smirks, looking across the island to Old Fisherman’s Cottage, where Gigi is locked up. The wood board is still in place.
“All right,” he agrees.
I heat a can of tomato soup and make two grilled cheese sandwiches on the stove—a simple meal. There aren’t a lot of options anyway. I need to go into town for more supplies... eventually. But I’m not in a rush to leave the island.
We eat quickly, and then Bo follows me up the stairs. When we reach my bedroom, I can hear the fan blowing down the hall. Mom’s already in bed.
“Do you think your mom knows I’m here?” Bo asks once we’re inside my room.
“She knows. She senses when anyone is in the house or on the island.”
“What about Gigi?”
“I’m sure Mom knows she’s here too. But she won’t say anything. She hasn’t talked to anyone outside the island for a couple years. I don’t think she could muster the strength to call the cops about a missing girl even if she wanted to.”
“Is she like that because of your dad?”
I give a swift nod then sit down on the edge of the bed while he settles into the cushioned chair beside the window. “After he vanished three years ago, she sort of lost her mind.”
He nods understanding. “I’m sorry.”
A light rain has started to fall, sprinkling the glass and pattering against the roof. A chorus that soothes the eaves and sharp angles of the old house. “Apparently, love is the worst kind of madness.”
I go to the window and touch my palm to the glass. I can feel the coolness of the rain on the other side.
“Have you ever been in love before?” Bo braves to ask.
I look back at him, absorbing the drowsy slant of his eyes. “Once,” I confess, the four-letter word spilling out. It’s something I don’t like to talk about—with anyone.
“And?”
“It didn’t last. Circumstances beyond our control.”
“But you think about him still?” he asks.
“Only sometimes.”
“Are you afraid?”
