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October leans a breathless distance from me. Her lips skim my ear, sending a shiver of anticipation down my arms. Whatever she’s about to say, she thinks against and listens to Anna continue her speech.
I try to mask the disappointment. My lips dip into a flatline.
What were you expecting, Zoey? She’s not going to kiss you out here. We’re not dating. We can’t be anything.
She touched me. She’s helping me. And I want to help her feel something other than terrible, awful numbness.
I look at October the same time she turns to me. A tender but explosive, soundless second pumps my heart with molten affection. Her eyes grip onto mine like she’s falling.
We breathe shallowly.
On the blanket, I inch my fingers over to hers.
She inches hers to mine.
That’s it, Kenobi.
“In a few minutes, we’ll begin,” Anna declares, “grab some mussels and take a…” Her voice trails off suddenly. People are muttering around us.
Reluctantly, almost painfully, I detach from October’s gaze. She follows suit, and I’m on edge as I look around…oh…
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.
I find the source of everyone’s attention.
Brian and Colt. My brothers.
They’ve arrived.
CHAPTER 16
October Brambilla
Every town has its outcasts, and if some stranger stumbled onto this beach, they’d be able to pinpoint those unlucky few.
The crowd has grown silent at Brian Durand’s arrival. But this year, most of the curiosity is pinned to Colt, who’s been cooped up in the lighthouse for weeks. Wild, unkempt hair. Skeletal, gaunt frame. Shadowed eyes.
He’s a fucking wreck.
Jittery. Like he hasn’t slept.
Worse than yesterday morning, when he called me a heartless cunt. He already texted me a lengthy, rambling apology with typos and more emotion than I expected. I forgot he had my number, but we exchanged them for “emergencies” when I was a teenager.
Emergencies pertaining to Zoey.
Colt knew I was her closest friend in high school.
I knew he was a semi-reliable brother.
If she was in trouble, I promised to call him or Brian or even Parry. “Whoever you can get ahold of,” Colt said.
“Sure,” I replied. Back then, he didn’t hate my friendship with his sister. Which he discovered was actually “more than friends” after he caught us kissing on the fishing pier. Colt just hated my last name, and in order to like me, he thought of me as a Brambilla exception.
One of the good ones.
And time and time again, I proved him wrong. I am a Brambilla. I’m just like the rest of them, and I don’t denounce who I am.
Just like he’s never denounced who he is. A Durand. Sometimes I think we’re more alike than he realizes.
Zoey watches her brothers with knotted brows. “They came?”
“They’re here every year.”
She’s not too shocked. For as awful as most locals are to the Durands, they’re still members of this community. They’re allowed to take part in traditions.
Anna Roberts regains composure. “Take a seat everyone and we’ll begin the ceremony with the newly cursed.”
I intake a breath. Glancing briefly to Amelia, then to Zoey. I almost whispered to Zoey the truth about Amelia’s relationship with her mother. How nothing is good enough for Anna. Amelia could turn the lake into wine and her mom would balk that it’s a merlot and not a cabernet. And then she’d criticize the lack of effort for not reaching Lake Superior.
But I didn’t tell Zoey.
Amelia wouldn’t want me to, and she’s been too good of a friend to betray. Especially at the snap of a finger.
Not far from where we sit, Colt and Brian join Parry on a beach blanket. Parry is one of the few men wearing a crown of red carnations. Most Mister Mistpoints have died. A sinister fact that is often recited on museum tours.
That one, I can’t drum up to anything other than coincidence. Zoey, I’m sure, would call it a cursed fate.
Colt tugs anxiously at his unruly hair. He barely acknowledges anyone but his best friend.
Brian, on the other hand, is zeroed in on us. Shell crown nestled in his hair, his eyes land directly onto me.
It’s hard to ignore the seething glare. I remember the day Zoey announced she’d be leaving for Chicago. We were sitting on Brian’s boat, eating the grilled walleye he caught that morning. He spit out some bones into the lake and then turned to me. “You want her to go?”
Of course I didn’t want Zoey to leave, but I wasn’t going to trap her into staying in a town that hated her family. I’d never be able to live with myself.
“I want what Zoey wants,” I said diplomatically, “and if that’s Chicago, then I’m Team Chicago.”
“You’re Team Get the Fuck Off My Boat,” Brian spat, pointing towards the docks.
“Brian!” Zoey yelled.
I was already standing up. “No, it’s okay. I’ll let you two talk,” I whispered to Zoey. She gave me a look like don’t go. But I knew she didn’t need me to confront her brother. She had a backbone. I saw her grow one over the years.
