Page 110 of Off Plan
I stared at Beale in disbelief. “She what? Are you seeing visions now, Beale?”
“Uh, no. Sadly. Did I forget to mention that I got Fenn drunk last night so I could figure out what the fuck was going on? Because I did. Sorry, not sorry.” He lifted one shoulder. “I heard a lot about how brilliant you are, how you make people feel good.” He ticked the items off on his fingers. “How he should never have gotten involved with you because he’ll never be truly happy now, but how youdeservea better life than you’ll ever have on Whispering Key. Howfuckinghot andpassionateyou are—heard thatmultipletimes.” He ticked off four fingers, and I felt my face flame. “And how, after scrolling your Instagram, he cares enough about you to let you go.”
My jaw dropped open. “Are you kidding me?”
Beale shook his head.
“That… that… giantasshole.”
“No!” Beale’s eyes widened. “No, wait, you don’t under—”
“He was doing the whole ‘if I love something I’ll set it free’bullshit? Onme? And after I tried to oh-so-casually bring up the idea of mestayingon this freakin’ island and everything?” I shoved my empty cup in Beale’s direction, and he took it mutely.“He’s a dead man.”
“Sure,” Beale agreed, nodding. “You can kill him. That’s fair. But maybe remember that with Fenn you have to be super explicit. Because he’s always going to default to the worst possible interpretation of whatever you said.”
Like when I said I could never tie myself to someone like him?
“Fuck.” I ran both hands through my hair. “Where is he?”
“Fenn?” Beale’s face split in a grin. “He’s over on theMary Anna.”He hooked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the town center.“You heard about the storm, right? Gonna be a bad one tonight, so they’re battening down everything on the boat and at the Goodmen Outfitters office. But that means it’ll be the perfect night to stay in andmake up.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Getcha plenty of supplies.”
My cheeks went hot. “We’ll see about that. Still not entirely sure this will work out exactly how you hope it will.”
“So… does this mean you’re taking the job?”
From the back of the house came a joyous bark, followed by the clack of feet against Mr. Wynott’s pristine, wide pine floors, and then ten pounds of fur was launching itself against my midsection. I caught Topaz in my arms and lifted her to lick my face with her rough tongue.
Mr. Wynott followed, shaking his head and grinning. “Topaz jumped the dog fence! She wouldnotbe restrained, Dr. Bloom! True love sees no barriers, only possibilities!”
I snorted. These crazy people—Beale and Mr. Wynott, Big Rafe and Gloria, Young Rafe and Lety—had become really important to me in just a short period of time. I thought of Taffy, asking me if it were better to be a little important to a lot of people or really important to just a few, and I could now say unequivocally which I wanted.
“Yeah,” I told Beale. “I’ll take it.” I was going to stay on Whispering Key.
And I would be happy here even if Fenn and I didn’t work out. Hell, I wouldthrive… but I’d really prefer to thrive with Fenn, and I was beginning to think he’d prefer to thrive with me, too. So maybe… maybe it was time someone stuck around and fought for Fenn.
“Then it will work outexactlythe way I think,” Beale said with preternatural confidence. “And don’t tell Fenn, but I have afeelingabout this.” He winked. “A really good feeling.”
My lips twitched as I wrestled the furball in my arms. “So do I.” My phone rang and I dug it out of my pocket, full-on grinning when I read the display.
“Mr. Goodman!” I said, my eyes on Beale’s encouraging ones as I accepted the call. “I have good news. Well, for me anyway. I’m afraid you’ll have to tell Dr. Aaron Smith that—”
“Mason.” Rafe cut me off, his voice low and strained. “I need you to get out to the bunker right now. Gloria is… Her chest is tight, she says. She’s having trouble catching her breath. It’s like heatstroke, but worse.”
Fuck. I’d been so worried about this. But clearly, not worriedenough.
“Sorry, Mr. Wynott. I can’t stay.” I set Topaz on the floor, caught Beale’s eye, and nodded toward the door. “You have a car?” Beale nodded. “I need a ride off the island. Now,” I whispered. To Rafe, I said, “Call for an ambulance, and Beale and I will—”
“Would take a hundred years to get an ambulance out here over Cooter Key!” Rafe said. “Need you to get here now, Mason.”
Shit.
Beale drove his father’s pickup down Godfrey Pass like we were setting land speed records, going around the big curve in the road on two wheels. He hit a huge pothole in the center of the road, and the impact made the truck jump. My teeth clacked together when we landed again, and all the things in the bed of the truck—floating bumper-things and other boat-type accessories—crashed against one another.
“Damn it,” Beale muttered as the car started making a rhythmictat tat tat tatnoise. “Tire’s blown, but we’ll get there.”
He drove past the unmarked turnoff to the Goodman house and pulled into the motel parking lot instead. “Easier for Fenn to fix her up this way,” he said, though I hadn’t asked.
I jumped out of the truck, pulling my keys from my pocket. “Beale, go up to my room and grab my first aid kid from under the table by the window, just in case. Meet me in the bunker.”