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“Of that I have no doubt.” Her eyes danced. “But just so I’m clear what’s on offer here, why don’t you tell me more?”

“Ack.Stop.” Vi walked into the living room, rubbing her eyes. “I do not want to hear this listing of virtues. There are some things a sister doesn’t need to know.”

“Sorry, Vi. We didn’t know you were here.”

“Obviously.”

“What are you doing home so soon?” I asked.

Violet winced. “Migraine. I got Marni to cover for me at the shop so I could come home and try to nap.”

“Ouch. Sorry,” Anya said, exchanging a glance with me. “How do you feel about grilled cheese for dinner?”

“I’m too nauseated to eat. You guys go ahead, and I’ll grab something later.”

She spoke softly, like even the volume in her head was too painful to manage. Anya and I exchanged another silent communication.

“Do you want us to bring you takeout from the brewery?” I asked. When she lived at home, she used to crave spicy foods after a migraine.

“Pizza?” She perked up, smiling at me. “Extra pepperoni, please.”

“Sure thing, Vi. We’ll get out of your hair. I hope you feel better.” I wrapped one arm around my sister in a gentle hug. “Text me if you need anything else.” She nestled against my shoulder for a moment.

“Thanks.” She winked at Anya. “He’s very caring. It’s one of his many sexy qualities.” She patted my cheek. What was it with the Fenwick women treating me like I was ten? “Go on, have a good dinner. I’m going to grab an ice pack and chill.”

Anya changed into jeans and a sweater, and we walked down the hill, lucky enough to snag a table at the brewery without a wait.

Dinner was hot and filling, and the glass of wine Anya chose seemed to help her relax. Faint shadows shaded the delicate skinbeneath her eyes. Her graceful features were too beautiful to look haggard, but the worry was taking its toll.

Her phone buzzed as we finished our meal, and she reached for it. Color leached from her expression. A fine tremble started in her hand.

I wanted to reach through the phone and deck whoever made her flinch like that. My fists clenched in my lap. Just one well-aimed punch was all it would take.

“What is it?” I was careful to keep my tone calm.

She set her phone down with a sigh, bringing her gaze to meet mine. “I’d rather talk in private.”

Concerned, I nodded. “Let me put in Vi’s order and pay our tab.”

Whatever the text message said, things wouldn’t get worse in the few minutes it took to take care of our bill and walk pizza up to Violet. A muscle ticked in my jaw. Every move felt stiff as we walked back to the house. I gripped Anya’s hand. Holding her anchored me in the present, a silent message to my nervous system that she was safe.

My mind raced with possibilities, but I couldn’t land on one that seemed likely. Nothing to draw the fear that lurked in her expression every time I snuck a glance at her face. Some people came to San Juan Island to hide. Clearly, Anya was one of them. But what was she hiding from?

While we might joke that Sal at the sub shop was in witness protection because he stuck out like a sore thumb in our tiny town with his East Coast accent and directness, it was just that: a joke. Sal was part of the island, just like Anya. We protected our own.

“Nightcap?” Anya asked as we reached the house. “I’ve got a bottle of wine.”

“Sure.” She seemed to need a drink, even if I didn’t. “I’ll drop off Vi’s dinner. Do you want me to turn on the firepit so we can talk out back?”

“Yes, please.”

Vi accepted her dinner with a wan smile and retreated behind her bedroom door. I slipped outside and turned on the propane before lighting the gas logs. Brushing off the bench took another few seconds. Too fidgety to sit, I adjusted the other chairs in the circle around the firepit.

“I hope pinot noir is okay.” Anya extended a stemless glass to me.

“I’m not picky. Thanks.”

She sat gingerly next to me, her glass balanced on her knee, and stared into the fire. Night settled around us, a shawl of darkness encircling our shoulders beyond the reach of the flames. Frogs croaked, providing a gentle melody that should have been soothing. I sipped my wine, letting the tart tannins roll across my tongue. Giving Anya time. Space. Whatever she needed, even though I was becoming more desperate for the truth with every passing moment.