Page 9 of Fire Island (Fire Island #2)

Eight

CALLUM

M y sister is lying to me. I know she’s upset about some missing friend, and now, sitting across from me, she is stone-faced and denying any such thing. I take a sip of the delicious coffee she made and study her as she tries to formulate a reason for getting so wound up at the meeting yesterday.

“I guess I just hate the fact they can toss you out. Fire Island is your home, you’ve made a life there, and?—”

“You said that already, Irry. Tell me what’s really going on.”

Her phone vibrates on the table, lighting up.

Emmett.

“Shit, I have to take this. Sorry, Cal. Grab some scones before the midmorning rush, will you?”

She slips outside, and I rise from my chair, wandering to the big bay window, watching my little sister pace. Her hand slaps over her mouth, and she sags with something that looks like relief. When she starts crying on the sidewalk, that’s the last fucking straw.

I slam the coffee cup on the counter and spill out onto the sidewalk. Without asking, I wrap her in my hold, and she sobs into my chest.

So much for nothing to worry about.

Dammit, Irry.

Her sobs die off, and she pushes away, straightening her hair with one hand, drying her face with the other. “I have to go. Look after Paige for me, will you?”

“Sure, but we are hashing this thing out when you get back.”

She winks at me with a scrunched-up face full of love.

Yeah, I ain’t getting a thing out of that woman.

I sigh, making my way back inside as Iris dashes out with her bag and phone. I know the doctor told her and Em not to try to fill in the blanks of the three missing years. But being left out of the loop with something like this is hard.

Something feels off.

Like I should be front and center in this unfolding drama.

Instead of charging off after my sister like I want to, I sit my ass back down at one of the smaller tables and pick up the paper. I turn to the community section for the month.

A half page write-up covers the first page of the section.

Talented Fantasy Writer-in-Residence Holds Signing for Bay Shore Library

The photograph is of Sherry from the library staff and a pretty twentysomething with black glasses and a tight smile.

She holds a copy of a fancy-looking hardcover book as she stands at the front of a crowd of people, a line on one side of her table.

To the right, a guy hunches by the loans counter, his gaze dead set on the woman holding the book.

His scruffy, greasy hair is covered by a cap. Maybe he’s her husband?

The way he’s looking at her is . . .

Intense.

I shiver, shrugging away the unease washing over me. I fold the paper and check the front-page news. Same old thing, something bad. Nothing good ever sells. The door to the café chimes, and Errol walks in. I glance at the clock. Lunchtime.

He’s a creature of habit.

Lucky for Iris, half the town eats here. My sister’s cooking and her personality have won back the town. Mostly.

Errol tosses a scowl my way before plopping onto a stool at the counter. Paige’s face lights up as she slides a menu across to him. Without looking at it, he orders and reaches for the counter copy of the paper that’s splattered with food spills already.

I rise and roll the paper in my hands, tossing it onto the counter by the old shit. He turns, face not improving any as he says, “Generous of you, McCreary. Just don’t get any ideas about buttering me up to get in my granddaughter’s good graces.”

The actual hell, old man?

“The fuck you blithering about, Errol?”

“We all know you like them half your age.”

I set my shoulders back, setting my feet square as I cross my arms over my chest. My jaw grinds shut.

He continues, obviously unaware of the ‘no talking about the last three years rule’ Em and Iris are abiding by.

“Took her over there, early morning, couple weeks back. No clue why she wanted to come back after she got away.”

Got away?

She?

Maybe I can get something out of him, after all.

“You did what?” I ask.

“Flew into the watchhouse all hysterical, wanting Emmett. He was out up north.” He studies my face, brows lowering. “She know you ended up half drowned?”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, but it’s the most recent event anyone’s talked about with me since the hospital.

I let my body soften, dropping my arms by my sides. “Wouldn’t know.”

He grunts. “Figures. Got what you wanted and?—”

Paige drops a plate in front of her grandfather. Her frown tells me all I need to know. Iris got to her. She’s not going to let Errol or anyone else in this little café slip another word.

Dammit.

So close.

“We’re not supposed to talk about anything that happened in the last three years, Grandpa. His memory has to return on its own.” Her words are firm.

Gauging by the surprise stretching Errol’s face, he didn’t know. “Huh. Well, shit. There is a god.”

“Grandpa!” Paige scolds the old man.

He chuckles and digs into his food. I retreat behind the counter and head upstairs for the spare room.

My belongings are strewn about the space, but this is not my home.

I can feel it in my bones. I sink onto the bed and drop my head into my hands.

I close my eyes, squeezing them shut, like that will force thirty-six months’ worth of life and moments back into my brain.

Nothing gives.

Nothing floods back in.

I’m coddled. Wrapped in fucking cotton wool and set up high on the shelf with the rest of the precious, breakable things.

Fuck this shit six ways to Sunday.

Four hours later, the squeal of wheels on the street outside has me off the bed and standing by the window in a heartbeat. The Jeep pulls up, but nobody gets out. It idles by the curb in its parking spot. Intrigued, I lean on the wall and fold my arms...

And wait.

Finally, the engine dies out, and Iris steps out.

She rounds the vehicle and opens the passenger door.

A woman steps out. With her long dark hair messy around her shoulders, she sways as she holds Irry’s hand.

Iris folds her into her embrace, and I lean into the glass, forehead pressing onto the cool pane.

This must be the friend she was upset about.

As they part, Iris palms her face, talking to her.

The woman nods before glancing up.

I jerk back a little from the window when I recognize her face.

The woman from the paper, the twentysomething author.

She looks a little worse for wear, but that’s her, I’m sure of it.

When did my sister become friends with a fantasy author?

Must have developed in the last three years.

The woman is hugging herself as Iris slides a small bag from the car that looks like it’s from the eye place on Main Street, and guides her inside.

I close the door and stand by it, listening, feeling like the world’s biggest perv.

But something has me frozen to the spot.

It’s . . . curiosity?

She must have been through some kind of ordeal to have Iris this wound up over it.

Footsteps move up the internal stairs. I should move. I should act fucking normal. My blood hammers through me like it understands something I don’t. I grab the doorknob.

I won’t turn it.

I won’t.

It— she ’s none of my business.

Murmuring fills the hallway, and Iris’s bedroom door opens, then shuts.

I pull my door open an inch. Heart in my throat, I stare into the empty hallway.

Closing the door softly so it makes not a sound, I spin back and lean on it.

My head thumps backward onto the hardwood.

I try to rein in the thrumming in my body.

What in hell’s handbasket’s got me riled up over some woman I don’t know?

A soft knock lands on the other side of the door, and I jolt away from the sound. With a good distance between me and the door, I shake out my hands, trying to coax feeling back into my body.

“Cal?”

Iris.

I clear my throat. “Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

“Yep.”

I sit on the bed and try not to look as fucked up as I feel. Iris opens the door and comes in before closing it behind her. “How are you feeling?”

She looks much happier than when she left this morning.

“Fine. Bored.”

At least I was ten minutes ago. Now, I’m a bundle of whatever the fuck those last few minutes were.

“My, um... friend was in an accident, she’s going to stay here for a few days.

But... ” She comes to sit by me on the bed.

Her green eyes are lit up, but her mouth wobbles to hold a thin line.

“She needs some space, okay? I would send you to Em’s, but he’s on dayshift, and I need someone to be with you as much as pos?—”

I hold a hand up. “It’s fine. I’ll behave. Besides, between Paige, you, and Em, I have enough company. I’m not going looking for more. I’ll keep my distance.”

“Oh, okay, great.”

Iris stares at the door. She swallows before she says, “Have you had any memories come back yet?”

“Nope. Not a damn thing.” I shove my head into my hands and groan. “I’m so over this, Irry. It’s only been a few weeks and I’m going fucking crazy. What if they never come back?”

I turn my head to find her staring at me. “I don’t know, Cal.”

“It feels like I lost far more than only three years of memories. Something’s missing.”

Iris’s eyes well with unshed tears as she tilts her head, scrunching up her face. She drops her head to my shoulder and breathes out a wobbly breath. “I know.”

She knows what?

“How bad could it be if you told me what I’m missing?” I plead.

She sits up and gives me the most empathetic look that’s ever graced her pretty face. “What if that ruins it all?”

“How could it?”

“I’m not telling you how things are. That’s for you to find out.” She glances to the ceiling, like the next words are hard to say and she needs a little more strength. “You’re lucky, you know. I envy you some. You get to do it all over again. You get to live through that twice.”

“Do what? Live through what?”

It sounds like something good, at least? What happened in the last three years that I could get to do over?

She gives me an incredulous look. “Now, if I told you that , I would never forgive myself.”

“Fine. But if this turns out to be important and you kept it to yourself...”

She rises and presses a kiss to my forehead. It’s been years since she’s done it. The last time was after Ava. After Em found me at the fishing hut with my sanity hanging by a thread.

She reaches the door, then turns back and says, “I’m just happy two of my favorite people are home and safe. The rest will sort itself out soon enough.”

She disappears, and I’m left sitting on the bed none the wiser.