Noa smiles. “Best friends,” she replies.
“I’m glad to hear it,” I say. We fall quiet again.
“So… how are you?” she asks after a few minutes. “It’s been a long time.”
“Two years,” I say. She nods, eyes narrowed.
“Two years,” she repeats flatly. Coldly, as if letting me know it’s too long to ever come back from.
That was the last time I saw her. Saying goodbye on the beach, promising to meet her the next day. Flying back to Connecticut insteadand never answering her calls. I’m not proud of how I handled it, but my life imploded. She wasn’t the only thing I lost that summer.
“Well,” Noa says with a shrug. “You should know that you can do better than Jordan Miles.”
I fight back my smile, appreciating the compliment. She tilts her head.
“Don’t you even want to know why I’m in here?” she blurts out as if she’s been waiting for me to ask.
I shrug. “I’m a little curious.”
“My friends and I needed a boat,” she says. “It was an emergency.”
I’m a bit stunned, holding my expression still, even as my blood pressure starts to rise.
“We weren’tstealingit,” she continues, oblivious to my darkening mood. “We fully planned to return it before anyone noticed—but shit went sideways. Clearly,” she adds, motioning around to the police station.
“Clearly,” I repeat, my voice tight.
“And sure,” she adds. “The boat got a little damaged, but it’s not like the owner can’t afford to fix it, right? I mean, there’s a thing called insurance.”
I swallow hard. “How badly damaged?” I ask.
“Barely a dent,” she says, measuring an inch with her fingertips. “It’s fine.”
Although I’m relieved that the damage sounds minor, it still sucks. I’m trying to think of who I know around town that can fix a boat when Noa starts talking again.
“This was a onetime thing,” she defends. “I never do stuff like this, but today… those assholes from the resort crossed a line. You have to understand,” she says earnestly, “I would never steal—borrow,” she corrects, “from someone who didn’t deserve it.”
“But you didn’t know who the boat belonged to,” I reply, annoyed.
“Are you worried it belonged to Jordan?” she asks as if I’m missing the point. “Because it doesn’t—her family partners with the huge dock down at Sunset. And listen, don’t judge me. It’s not that bad. Shawn and Tech wanted to take the yacht, but I convinced them to take the smaller boat. I was responsible.”
“That’s one way of looking at it,” I say. The yacht actually belongs to my father, so either way, she was screwing over my family.
“So you stole a boat,” I say, wanting the rest of the story. “I hope you did something fun with it, at least.”
“Uh, sure,” she replies, widening her eyes. “I got Tech locked in a Prohibition-era jail where he nearly drowned. Luckily, the coast guard was close by and got him out in time. Let’s just say it’s been a busy day.”
“Sounds it. Same here, though,” I tell her.
She furrows her brow, looking me over. “Yeah?” she asks, curious. “Big day at the fancy resort? How did you end up in Sheriff Dipshit’s precinct?”
“Turns out,” I say, leaning toward her, “someone stole my boat. Weird, right?”
She stares at me, red rising on her cheeks. After a moment, she actually looks pissed at me for telling her. “You serious?” she asks. “It was your boat? When did you get a fucking boat?”
“TheSweet Caroline,” I say. “All mine.”
The door to the sheriff’s office opens again, and he comes out to impatiently wave Noa back inside. She gets up, but before she leaves, she turns to me and shrugs apologetically.
