At the head of the table, my father picks up his wineglass to take a sip, and then, to my absolute shock, he glances up at me and offers me a little nod—like I’ve done well.
I’m honestly baffled, but I’ll take it. I nod back, as if I really was romancing the princess of the Grand Augustus Resort somewhere in Cape Hope.
But really, I’m wondering why in the world Jordan Miles would need me to lie for her? Whatever she’s hiding, it must be good.
After lunch, still high off the rare positive interaction with my father, I take the winding path from the resort toward Paradise Beach. I tell myself it’s just to check on my boat. Routine. Responsible, even. Or at least, that’s the excuse I’m using. Maybe if I repeat it enough, I’ll actually believe it.
But it’s not the boat. That would be so much easier.
I haven’t been down to the dock in two years. Not since everything fell apart—my fault, all of it—and I know better than to think anyone is still waiting around for me to show up. It could have been different,but in the end, it wasn’t. It was exactly what they expected.
Things change, people change. I don’t know if I’m ready to find out just how much, but I keep walking anyway.
When I reach the sand, I take off my sneakers and find the ground still damp from the storm. There’s no movement on the dock, and I don’t know if I’m disappointed or relieved, maybe both. I dodge driftwood and wood planks, torn bits of umbrella fabric scattered across the sand. The storm did a number on this place.
Still… it is peaceful out here. I pause a moment to take in the salty air, not realizing how much I missed it. In the quiet, I try not to dwell on my father’s comment about the internship. To be fair, my life goal isn’t to work in cybersecurity. I’m only doing that for him. And the law classes I take are for my mother. Me? I don’t know what I want to do yet, which, according to my parents, is a personality flaw. And so I pretend.
I look toward the dock again. I’m going to take my boat out for a while, even if the water is choppy. It’s the first time I’ll get the chance to use it here since it’s normally docked back home. No one was more surprised than me when my father offered to get it sent here for the summer. I said yes immediately. I made promises about staying out of trouble. I would have said anything at that point. I love my boat. She’s the only thing that’s actually mine—a gift from my grandfather when I turned sixteen. I named it after my grandmother.
Samuel Garda, my mother’s father, was a law professor for years before starting his own firm. Now retired, he lives comfortably in California. We used to spend our holidays with him, all the way up until I was sixteen.
If it matters, I regret what happened. I shouldn’t have involved him, or, as my father told me, I should have just minded my own damn business. After my grandfather tried to stand up for me, my parents went no-contact with him, forcing me and Astrid to do the same. I’d be lying if I didn’t blame myself for that.
At the same time, if I really wanted to, I could reach out to my grandfather now. But I’m not sure how my father would react if he found out. One thing I’ve learned is that you never want to be in the crosshairs of Brent Matthews. He doesn’t miss.
As I get closer to the dock, I scan the boats, curiously at first. But then, a creeping dread begins to crawl up my throat. I walk faster, my eyes searching, my heart pounding. The spot where my boat is supposed to be docked is… empty.
I blink quickly, stunned and unable to move forward. The dock is battered, sections torn up and missing, pillars bent from the winds. The business itself looks abandoned, the shutters closed and the Surf Shack sign fallen and half buried in the sand.
And my boat is most certainly missing.
I quickly turn to look out into the water, wondering if it has been pushed out to sea, floating somewhere nearby. I walk to the edge of the shore, my feet sloshing in the water, as I shield my eyes and scan for any sign of it. It’s gone. Not drifted away. Gone.
A wave of panic makes my breathing catch. I love that boat. And now it’s gone. My eyes are frantic, darting around and hoping it appears. After a few minutes, I know I have to do something.
Quickly, I take out my phone, ready to call my father. But I stop myself. I can’t tell him that my boat is gone. I can already hear the disappointment in his voice, feel the judgment.
Fuck!
I can’t call my dad. I can’t call my mother. Who can I—
It occurs to me that there might be one person in Cape Hope willing to help. I open up my call log and click Dial.
When Jordan answers, I close my eyes, resigned to my fate. “It’s Jamie,” I say. “Is it too early to call in that favor?”
CHAPTER FIVE
—NOA
On the open water, thesun glitters across the rippling waves. It’s quiet past the shore; there have been almost no boats since the storm. It’s like we’ve got the entire ocean to ourselves. Peaceful, if I wasn’t sitting on stolen property.
We took the boat from our dock at the Surf Shack. Okay, technicallyborrowed.Actually, definitely stole. Not my proudest moment, but I’ve been trying not to think about it too hard. I’m trying to stay focused on the mission—the mission to destroy the Collective.
While Tech steers parallel with the horizon, Shawn and I sit on the bench at the front, her baseball hat pulled low to block the sun. I’m overheated, even with the wind blowing in my face. Although I’m wearing my bathing suit, I had to throw on a sweatshirt to cover the cuts on my arm, protecting them from the elements.
Curious, I push up my sleeve and touch one of the bigger cuts. It stings, sharp and immediate, and I wince.
“Let me see,” Shawn says, taking my arm gently to check it over. She shakes her head, and I hum out my agreement.
