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“I mean it, girl.” Royal narrowed his eyes at Viv. “I know you’re hurting, but you’ll keep a civil tongue in your head for the duration. You wanna go around cracking skulls, you do it on your own time, but you ain’t doing it here, and not today.” His clutched the bamboo case closer, and his knuckles turned white as he repeated, “Not today.”
Viv’s jaw shifted as she continued glaring at Kit.
“And why in the devil are you here?”
Beau tore his attention away from Viv and glanced up at Royal, who stared down at him.
The older man had lost weight since the last time Beau had seen him, the thickly defined muscles Beau remembered having thinned out. The stern line of Royal’s shoulders curved downward, sagged almost. A thick salt-and-pepper beard covered the lower half of his face, and his dark, watery eyes stood out starkly against his pale, wrinkled skin.
Beau ducked his head, a sensation of shame sizzling through him, burning its way up his neck. “I’m sorry, Royal. I’m so sorry for your l—”
“He’s with me.” Viv moved to his side and gripped his upper arm. Her fingers trembled around his biceps. “I asked him to come.”
Royal’s mouth gaped, his expression twisting. “You brung a Sutton here? Today, of all days?”
“You got Kit,” Viv said between gritted teeth. “I got Beau.”
“You’re my daughter, too—for all you like to deny it—and he ain’t welcome on my boat.”
“Then neither am I. I won’t step foot on that boat without him.”
Royal’s gnarled fingers fumbled over the bamboo case. Gripped it tighter. “You’d do that? You’d do that to your own mama?”
Viv shrugged. “She wouldn’t care either way.”
Royal’s lips thinned. “But I do.”
“She can’t care,” Viv spat.
“But I d—”
“Because she’s dead.”
“Don’t say it!”
The screen door slammed again, and a man, short in stature, ran out, wrapped his arms around Royal’s waist, and buried his face against Royal’s shoulder.
“Tell her, ‘Don’t say it,’ ” he repeated, his keening wail muffled against the sleeve of Royal’s T-shirt. “Tell her, ‘Don’t say it no more.’ ”
Beau held his breath, a hard knot forming in his throat, as he watched the man—Viv’s brother, Mackey?—burrow closer to Royal.
Royal tipped his head back, and his eyes glazed as he stared at the rose-colored sky. “Dear God . . . ,” he whispered, his voice fading. After a moment, he blinked hard, shifted the bamboo case carefully into the crook of one arm, and lowered his other arm around his son’s shoulders. “We’ll head out now. Get this over with.”
He moved slowly, his heavy tread pausing on each step, as Mackey’s feet shuffled at a slower pace, and he brushed past Kit, then stopped beside Beau and Viv.
Beau raised his head and stilled.
Royal’s eyes were on him, searing into his face, his pupils filled with anguish and fury. “You can get on the boat. But keep your mouth shut, and steer clear of me.”
* * *
Viv had grown unrecognizable in almost every way. They all had.
Kit leaned forward on the stern bench of Royal’s hybrid bay boat and glanced to her right. Viv, seated on the opposite end of the bench, stared straight ahead, her brown hair ruffling in the sea breeze, a muscle ticking in her jaw. She’d lost weight—way too much, her body angular and wound tight with anger.
Viv hadn’t looked her way once since boarding the boat.
Closing her eyes briefly, Kit sank back against the bench and stiffened. A broad shoulder was wedged against hers, and a hard thigh pressed into her softer one. She eased an inch to the left, and her hip hung precariously off the edge of the bench.
