Fine.
I'll find her. I'll tell her whatever she needs to hear. I'll make her understand that what we have is different—even if I have to lie through my teeth to do it.
Or maybe I won't lie.
Maybe I'll tell her the truth: that yes, I paid her debts. Yes, I brought her here. Yes, the pattern looks the same.
But I don't care.
And neither will she. Not when I'm done.
I step out of the guest house and scan the beach. I see a figure in the distance, walking along the waterline. Small and alone against the vast blue of the ocean.
It’s Jade.
I start walking toward her. Then faster. Almost running.
She can be scared. She can be angry. She can hate me for what I've done and what I'm going to keep doing.
But she's not leaving.
I won't let her.
19
JADE
The ocean doesn't have any answers.
I've been walking for over an hour, letting the waves lap at my ankles, trying to make sense of everything I read. The article about Nicholas and Olive. The anonymous check. The paradise destination. The fairy tale that Mom says was really a trap.
The pattern that Phoenix is repeating with me.
I keep telling myself there has to be an explanation. Coincidence. Fate. Something that doesn't mean I've walked straight into my worst nightmare.
But the parallels are too perfect to ignore.
I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't hear him coming until he's right behind me.
"You left your laptop open."
I spin around. Phoenix stands a few feet away, hands in his pockets, face unreadable. The wind whips his dark hair across his forehead. He looks beautiful and dangerous and like a stranger all at once.
"You went through my things?" The accusation comes out sharper than I intended.
"I went to find you. You weren't there." He shrugs, utterly unapologetic. "The laptop was open. I looked."
No excuse. No justification. Just the bare truth, delivered like he has every right to invade my privacy.
"That's not okay," I say.
"Probably not." He takes a step closer. "But neither is running away without telling me what's wrong."
"I wasn't running away. I was taking a walk."
"For two hours. Without your phone. After barely looking at me all morning." His eyes narrow. "Something changed last night. What happened?"
I could lie. Could make up some excuse about bad dreams or missing home. But what's the point? He's already seen the searches. He knows exactly what I found.
