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I glance at him. Yesterday was fun…until it wasn’t. “I can’t drink like that anymore, Six. And it’s not just because of all the rumors about me. I just don’t have it in me to drink for eight hours straight.”

He picks up my right foot and places it in his lap, sinking his thumbs into the arch. It’s blissful. “It’s for the best. One of us has to grow up first, right? Who’s going to plan out all these trips for us when we’re old if we’re both still getting hammered all day long?”

I don’t know how to respond to that. A year ago, I’d have been thrilled. I’d have rushed off to text Tali, demanding she agree that Six and I had turned a corner. Now, I don’t even want to agree with it myself. I feel as if, in doing so, I’d be making him a promise I’m not sure I can keep.

The breeze picks up and it feels like a warning. A sign I should extricate myself quickly, before it’s too late. “You might want to plan these trips with someone who doesn’t tend to go missing or who you notice is missing,” I reply, softening it with a laugh. “Especially on an island where there’s no hospital.”

He swallows. “That was shitty of me last night. It wasn’t that I didn’t notice you were gone, though. I just assumed you were, like, dancing or talking to people. Sometimes I forget you’re not like me, that you’re more of an introvert. I’m gonna try to be better.”

It’s the most earnest thing he’s ever said to me. And it leaves me terrified, rather than hopeful. I’m not sure I want him to try.

21

JOSH

January 28th

The next morning, I’m waiting in the lobby for her with a flashlight. Joel made noises about joining us this morning. I’m quietly relieved when she shows up alone.

“You ready?” I ask.

“You’re a little too eager,” she replies. “You’re not planning to throw me off the cliff, right?”

I shrug. “Not the kind of thing you commit to until you’ve assessed the situation.”

A guide from the hotel leads a small group of us outside, where the world is the deepest charcoal, just shy of absolute darkness. Using the flashlights, we weave past lagoons and pools to reach the path that goes to the beach and beyond. By the time we’ve begun to ascend the cliff, the sky is lightening into various shades of gray, with the barest hint of a bright orange sun at the horizon’s base.

We keep walking, up and up, past sharp rocks and crashing waves. I’m less focused on the scenery than I am on making sure Drew, who is quietly humming and paying little attention, is not too close to the edge. Eventually, the sky lightens a bit more and I can finally make out the coastline curving in the distance, and a big rock in the water with a Hawaiian outrigger canoe passing nearby, heading toward the rising sun in heavy surf. I reach out, placing a hand on Drew’s hip to get her attention. “Look,” I say, nodding toward it. My hand drops, though it felt better where it was.

“How do I get that job for a living?” she asks. “It looks peaceful.”

I laugh. For someone with an unfathomable amount of money, she spends an awful lot of time trying to escape it all. “Are we back to your living off the land fantasy?”

She grins. “Maybe. I could just take my big boat out each morning and live at The Four Seasons like those guys do.”

“Yes,” I reply. “I’m sure they all live at The Four Seasons. And then they go into the hills to gather breakfast from the Sour Patch Kid Trees.” She smiles, and though she’s barefaced—her hair in a messy bun, her tiny form swimming in an oversized sweatshirt—she’s never looked more beautiful to me.

We reach the overlook at last and take a seat, side by side, to wait for the sun to rise over neighboring Maui, though it shows no sign of happening soon.

“This had better be one hell of a sunrise if there aren’t even gonna be cappuccinos involved.”

I reach into my daypack and hand her a bottled Starbucks drink.

“Best I could do on short notice,” I reply. “The gift shop didn’t have Sour Patch Kids.”

“Fucking Four Seasons,” she mutters, but she is smiling down at the drink like it’s something precious. It takes so little to make her happy and I wonder if anyone in her life even tries. She peers up at me. “You’re kind of a keeper, Joshua Bailey.”

Her eyes are the color of whiskey in the dim light. My gaze falls to her mouth and away. How the hell can she be with my brother? It astonishes me a little more with every minute I’m near her. “I might say the same to you, but I don’t even know your real name.”

Placing the drink down next to her, she leans back on the rock, bracing on her palms. “Why can’t Drew Wilson be my real name?”

I smile to myself. She’ll argue over anything. “Well, Drew is a boy’s name for starters.”

“Not necessarily. And it’s better than Joshua. Do you know what Joshua means? It means diarrhea mouth. Look it up.”

My teeth sink into my lip as I try not to laugh. Her gaze follows the movement like a shark scenting blood, and desire hits me like a hammer, plucking a muscle low in my abdomen.

I force myself to look away. We sit in silence for a moment, watching the sun as it begins to warm the horizon. “My real name is Ilina Andreyev,” she says quietly, not looking at me. “It was a little too ethnic sounding, according to my manager. Andreyev means son of Andrew. So I started going by Drew.”