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Wren:I’ll be home by curfew, DAD.
I roll my eyes and slip my phone back into my pocket. Out of the five of us, Wren and I were always the main troublemakers. Least likely to play the part of responsible adult. I’m not a teenager anymore though. Wren is.
“Everything good?” Flynn asks.
“Yeah. Fine.”
“Something else bugging you? You still weirded out about your grandfather’s visit?”
I reach for another shot. “A little.”
Flynn’s the only one I’ve told about Arthur’s unexpected appearance at the office. When I suggested he stop by the office back in September, it never occurred to me that hewould. And it was awkward, and he made some of his usual judgmental comments, but he’d shown up. He had come all the way to the office just to see me. And it was nice, showing him around my office.
Flynn claps me on the back. “Don’t overthink it. He’ll reset to hisusual grumpiness pretty soon. Every now and then, my dad decides to act like a dad, but it passes fast.”
I muster a smile. “I’m going to do the rounds.”
“Have fun.”
After a trip around the first floor reveals no sign of Collins, I decide to head outside for some fresh air. It’s cold and salty, each inhale burning my lungs. The pool is covered, and the patio furniture is stored for the winter. My steps echo on the pavers, the only other sound the distant roar of the ocean.
I take a seat on the stone wall, wishing I’d thought to bring a drink or a jacket out here.
Rhythmic clacking announces someone else’s arrival. Hope balloons in my chest, even though I know it’s probably pointless.
Sure enough, it’s not Collins’s voice that asks, “Got a light?”
Hope deflates as I glance over my shoulder at the woman approaching. It takes me a minute to place her. “Camila, right?”
“Cammie,” she corrects, taking a seat on the wall next to me. “Good memory.”
“Flynn’s inside.”
Cammie lets out a husky laugh. “Oh, I didn’t come for Flynn.” She glances at the house. “Always wanted to see the inside of one of these places.”
“You’re a local, right?”
That’s basically all I know about Flynn’s summer fling, aside from where she worked. Or works—I don’t know if she’s at the hotel year-round. She looks younger, so she might be in college.
“Born and raised,” Cammie confirms, then holds up an unlit cigarette. “Lighter?”
“Don’t haveone.”
She sighs, then tucks the cigarette away.
We sit on the stone wall in silence, which is nice. And strange. Cammie has a down jacket on, but it’s been patched in several places. I’m not sure how warm it is.
She pulls her phone out of her pocket, glances at the screen, and mutters something under her breath that gets lost in a gust of bone-chilling wind. “I’ve gotta go,” she states.
“Yeah, I should head in before hypothermia hits.” I glance at the house.
Glass sliders separate the kitchen from the patio. At night, the lights inside make them look like a massive picture frame. I survey the party, doing a double take when I glimpse a shade of distinctive hair through the glass.
I stand, in an immediate rush.
I have to force myself to focus on Cammie for a minute. “Do you need me to call you a ride or anything?”
“Nah, I’m good. I drove, and the marina’s not far. Thanks.”