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“Shh, Dad. Let her answer.”

Licking my dry lips, I wish I'd kept one of the juices I bought. Everything in my mouth is sticky, tasting stale. All the liquid is in my sweaty palms on the steering wheel. “Of course, I like Dez. Why else would I marry him?”

“That's what I want to know. Lori, I don't have amnesia. I remember what he did.”

Mr. Carver's face falls. Then suddenly it pulls into a deep scowl, his voice rising as he stares between us. “You're talking like Dezmond hurt Lorikeet. You better tell me what happened.”

“Nothing happened!” I insist, switching my car out of park and into drive. Ignoring them both I check my mirrors, start to reverse. “It was long ago, he's changed, so have I. Thanks again for the great time and old memories.”

“Lori!” Cadence shouts. She watches me as I back up, her hands on her hips, nose scrunched. Before I drive away her face shifts into the painful softness of sympathy. It follows me in my mirror until I'm on the road. And it chases me when I'm miles away.

I don't know what to do. Because of that I simply drive, moving for the sake of it, worried if I stop for a second, I'll never start again. Dezmond has me by the throat. I can't kill him. Even if I wanted to try, he told me he left some sort of security with his friends for that exact scenario.

They don't know what he knows. I doubt he trusts them enough to tell, since his goal is blackmailing me out of money, or collecting any reward for information about my father if word gets out, he's not missing voluntarily. If he told his friends they'd threaten his windfall by claiming it for themselves.

Dezmond might go after my mother next. I'm the only thing keeping her safe from old secrets and new ones. So, what can I do but drive over the Granite Bridge, back towards my home?

I need to change out of my sand-laden clothes before going to the courthouse. Though, the idea of showing up in sandals with filth under my nails makes me smile cynically.

As I go over the bridge, a boat blows its horn in the distance. I glance through the woven steel cords that hold the bridge together. The ship sails proudly over the waves, its body slicing the water like a knife. If it hit the bridge, it would tear it in two and the boat would sink from the impact; both mutually destroyed.

My hands tighten on the steering wheel.Jordan saved me from driving over the edge.That night, vivid in my mind, clarifies more.He must have been on the island because he was visiting Deena's grave.I can smell the floral scent, like I'm sitting in the front seat of his car right now, white petals under my shoes.

Remembering the animosity in his face as he confronted me for trying my bridge-jump stunt, I clutch the wheel harder.Why was he so angry with me? And how did he know what I was about to do? He doesn't know me from a hole in the wall. Why did he care enough to intervene?

Why does he care now?

Clenching my jaw, I exit the bridge, driving straight to my home. Mom's car is gone; she's left for work already. Shedding my sandy clothes on the back porch where no one can see me—the thick trees block every curious neighbor for half a mile around—I walk inside in just my bikini bottoms. The floor is cool under my bare feet, the fluffy rug next to the tub slipping between my toes. Shutting myself inside the bathroom I run the shower on its hottest setting while unbraiding my hair.

Steam clouds the room, fogging the mirror, the window, making dots of water on the yellow walls. I breathe it in until my lungs strain. I'm on the cusp of feeling calmer when I enter the water and it stings across the cut on my knee.

The rose thorns.It's impossible to clear my head of Jordan Hartford. Cupping my knee, I think about how it's only fair I got stabbed. My shoddy work had caused me to prick his thumb when he bought the flowers. The single drop of cherry-red that bloomed up, out, over to splash on the ground. His lips had suckled gently at the injury. And my heart had gone insane.

It was the first time we ever spoke to each other.Dezmond's father had lived in Crestwind Cliffs for years, I'd seen him in crowds, walking by, eyes never finding mine. Never looking my way. Not that I noticed, at least. We'd never connected … until we did. Now I can't stop thinking about him even when I know I must.

Wringing out my wet hair, I turn off the shower. My phone's clock tells me I have an hour to finish getting dressed before driving to the courthouse. The pit in my stomach grows.Mom will feel awful that she missed this.I don't want her there, though. I don't want to be there. It was hard enough to have her watch Dez propose at the parade, to see her skepticism during the engagement party. She's trying her best to act supportive. It's the opposite of Jordan's behavior.

I need a witness. What if I don't bring one? Dez said a friend of his could be mine, it's no worse than all the other lies in this mess.A tingle at the base of my neck warns me I can't do this without a familiar face.

Pinching the space between my eyes, I take three calming breaths. Then I dial. “Cadence?” I say when she picks up, “I have a big favor to ask.”

Chapter 21

Thecourthouseisquietfor a Monday. There were parking spots right beside the building, but I drove down the street to be as far back as I could. It meant I had to walk for five minutes to get to the big stone steps that led to the front doors. Delaying was petty, but I clung to these last minutes as a free woman.

“You look great,” Cadence tells me as I approach. She's waiting on the bottom step in a clean ivory-white sundress covered in yellow flowers. She's wearing more white than me, the apparent bride.

Looking down at the green ankle-length maxi-dress, I laugh nervously. “I don't feel great.”

Her eyebrows inch up. “That an attempt to make me flatter you more?”

“No. Not at all.” Eyeing the courthouse in front of us, I whisper, “I'm scared.”

“Most brides are.”

Shaking my head, I keep staring at the huge double doors set into the pale red bricks.

Cadence touches my hand; I jump. “Hey, Lori, what's going on? Before you saynothing,it's obvious you're unsure about this.”