AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Without waiting for a reply, she starts the boat. “Pile in. Last one on board is swimming.”
I tell Kit and Jayla what’s been happening on Hemlock Island. They say little, and I struggle not to hear judgment in that.
Kit is at the wheel. He’s the expert, having grown up with boats. No yachts. The Hayeses might be that kind of rich, but they aren’t that kind of family. No country clubs. No yacht clubs. No dinner clubs. Not his scene, and definitely not Jayla’s.
I look over at him, piloting the boat, and the sight is so familiar that I need to lock my knees to keep from walking up beside him, leaning against his shoulder, feeling his arm go around my waist…
I shake off the thought and glance over at Jayla. Her stylish jacket looks out of place here, but otherwise, she’s dressed for Hemlock Island, in sneakers, tights, and a baggy men’s shirt. She’s comparing sneakers with Madison, who’s wearing her “October specials”—a pair of horror-themed Vans. Then they’re trading shoes, and I’m watching them, remembering when Jayla and I used to do that. I’m imagining I can hear her laugh over the motor and the surf and—
“What happened to the boat?” Kit calls.
I give a start and glance over at him. He waves me up to the helm. I hesitate, and then make my way there.
“The engine sounds different,” he says.
“It needed some work.”
“Seems like a total overhaul.”
I shrug. “Renters. Insurance covered it.”
Not true. The engine blew right after the warranty ran out. I’d tried going through insurance—I pay a small fortune to allow renters with boating experience to use it—but they called it normal wear and tear, and it cost me another small fortune to fix.
“You should have an old beater for the renters,” he says. “Save this one for you.”
“I’m fine.”
He takes out his phone with one hand and brings up his notes. “I’ll have a boat here by next—”
I put my hand over his phone screen. “No, Kit. Please.”
He looks away, his jaw working. Does he think I’m punishing him by not taking his money? Making him look bad?
I already seem like “that woman”—the one who marries a rich guy in Vegas, sticks around for a few years, and then puts out her hand for a divorce settlement. I won’t be her. I won’t even risk being mistaken for her.
“I’m good,” I say. “Really. Have I told you how much people pay to rent Hemlock Island?”
“You don’t need to rent it out, Laney.”
“I want to.”
“Bull. Shit.” He meets my gaze. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you honestly don’t mind having total strangers living in your house. And now this? I know you’ve been up here writing, alone, at least once while all this has been going on. It isn’t safe.”
“I’m thinking of getting a dog.”
His eyes narrow. “Really? Or are you blowing me off? If you actually want a dog—” He stops, and I tense for him to say he’ll buy me one. Instead, he rolls his shoulders back and says, “That’s a good idea. I know Mads would like one.”
“She would.”
“Maybe a poodle? I remember the one you had growing up. Ginger, right?”
I relax. “I’ve been thinking of a standard poodle, too. They’re good stealth watch dogs.”
He grins. “They are. Remember the time you tried to sneak out to meet Jayla, and Ginger woke up the neighborhood, barking like you were being abducted by aliens?” He snaps his fingers. “Wait. Isn’t that what you told your parents? That you’d seen what looked like an alien ship, gone out into the yard and that’s what Ginger was barking about?”
“Hey, it worked. Mom and Dad didn’t think I actually saw aliens, but they bought that I’d go outside for a closer look if I thought I did.”
He laughs, and I am caught in the tractor beam of that laugh. This is how I want things to be between us. The happy version, where we can still laugh together and pretend he didn’t walk away during the worst time of my life, pretend he isn’t desperate to buy his way out of that guilt.
