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“Bravo, Oakley. Bravo.”

As the guilty party, Corbin takes a dramatic bow. He receives plenty of backslaps and cheers, then our focus turns to Oakley. Our clever detective who has pieced the clues together.

Becca slings her arms around Oakley. They’re both beautiful with blond hair and blue eyes, but Oakley towers over Becca. “You’re amazing. I thought I had it.”

“You’re book smart. I, on the other hand, am street smart,” she says, grinning from ear to ear.

Corbin throws his arm over her shoulder, kissing her forehead. “She’s a survivor. Maybe she has a new career—homicide detective.”

Becca nods in agreement.

We gather for the Fatal Waves Whodunnit photo with Oakley at the center. Austin sneaks in between Becca and me, and I notice his hand tightly around her waist. Luckily, I’m able to depress the growl trying to force its way out.

The triumphant, yet conspiratorial mood continues to buzz as we head to meet the others at the Pier Pressure bar. In Texas, we would call it a honkey tonk. It’s loud, casual, and a country crooner sings songs about love. Oakley is the center of attention as they pepper her with questions about how she unraveled the mystery.

While they relive their roles and joke about their favorite clues, Corbin tips his head at me.

I stride across the actual bar. He thumps his fingers against the shellacked wood. “That was quite the evidence gathering by my sister.”

“Two beers, please,” I say, feeling Corbin’s glare burning a hole in my head until the laid-back bartender removes the bottle caps and slides them down the bar.

He doesn’t bother with small talk and asks, “Do you have anything to say?”

I catch the beers and hand him one. “Nope.”

Oakley glances at him and steals his focus momentarily, then his smile fades, and his jaw tightens. “Basilio, you’re one of my best friends, and I… I appreciate that you were there to comfort Becca when Mamaw died and talked to her about her divorce…”

“But—” I look him in the eye, cutting him off.

He takes a long pull from the beer, then moves it to his other hand. “But I don’t want to see you get hurt. You don’t want to be the rebound guy.”

I let out a short, vociferous laugh. “Me. I thought you would be worried about her.”

The tension climbs as Corbin rests his elbow against the bar, lowering his voice. “She’s my priority but I love you like a brother, and she may need to free her spirit on this vacation, but I know my sister—she’ll overanalyze everything once she gets home. And you brought your girlfriend here, just a few days ago.”

A pang of resentment slices through my chest. I stare at the weathered grain of the wooden bar, hoping to find the right words to ease his mind. And mine.

“Come on, Corbin. You know I’ve never loved Stella. My dad shoved her in my face over and over again. When Becca broke all communication, I needed to bury myself and Stella showed up at my door. I thought Becca and I had a chance, but she cut me off with ease. I brought Stella to the island because I couldn’t handle watching Becca dance or flirt with other guys. Stella was supposed to be a distraction,” I say, shoving one hand deep into my pocket.

“At the expense of my sister?”

“Whatever, man. If you don’t know me better than that after a decade of friendship, then maybe I should go home.” I slam the beer, gulping the rest of golden liquid down my throat and bang the empty bottle against the wood. My chest inflates, and we’re nose to nose. “I’m out of here.”

I feel the Darth Vader death stare on my back as I brush past Becca. “Where... are you going?”

“Home.”

What started out as a glorious day of relaxation wrapped in intimacy, ends in an argument with my best friend. I haven’t had many friends as close as Corbin and me. I guess this is why it stings that he expects me to fuck up.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve screwed up on countless occasions, but I’ve never broken a single heart. His sister is the one who crushed me in college. Broke all communication with me earlier this summer. And I’m the bad guy for bringing my girlfriend.

Outside, heat blankets my body on the walk back to the shuttle. I hear footfalls slapping against the ground. Becca’s voice stops me in my tracks. “John, wait.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Becca

“Please, wait.”