Page 18 of Secrets of the Past (Secrets of Mustang Island #3)

T wo days later, Nicole was back at the beach house with her friends. The ocean hummed in the background, a steady rhythm that mixed with the laughter of women and the gentle clink of glasses.

Paige’s little beach rental looked lived in now, empty wine bottles lined up like trophies on the counter, throw pillows scattered across the couch from earlier pillow fights, the faint smell of popcorn still lingering. Empty pizza boxes where they’d consumed their favorite meal.

Nicole sat cross-legged on the floor, her back against the sofa, holding her third, or was it her fourth, glass of wine.

She’d lost count somewhere around the second bottle, when Crystal had pulled out that ridiculous story about her last blind date, which had them all howling until their sides ached.

“God, I missed this,” Paige said, curling up on the armchair with her glass balanced on one knee.

The lamplight softened her features, and for the first time, Nicole noticed how relaxed she looked, with no tight shoulders and no careful city polish.

Just Paige. Not the prominent city executive who traveled the world.

When she’d first arrived on the island, the signs of wear were written all over her, shadows smudged beneath her eyes, tension bowstring-tight across her shoulders, a stiffness in her every movement.

She’d looked like life had taken too much from her.

But now…now Nicole caught glimpses of the Paige she remembered.

The carefree girl who used to laugh too loudly, danced barefoot in the sand, and lived as though the night would never end.

“You’ve missed wine?” Crystal teased.

“I’ve missed home, ” Paige corrected, sweeping her gaze around the room, then out the window where the dark ocean stretched.

“I didn’t think I would. Honestly, when I packed to come here, I was planning to count the days until I left again.

But now?” She gave a half-shrug, her smile soft. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Spoken like a true island girl,” one of the others said, raising her glass in salute.

Nicole took a sip, hiding her smile. Paige had always been the one who swore she’d never come back, never get stuck in the same small-town cycles. And now here she was, glowing with contentment in a beat-up rental on the beach.

This was the woman who built empires with a pen, who negotiated million-dollar contracts and appeared in glossy business magazines as the face of power and success.

Nicole had always expected her to end up in the corner office of some skyscraper, running a corporation like she was born to it.

But here, Paige wasn’t the executive powerhouse.

Here she was relaxed, radiant even, happier than Nicole had ever seen her.

And God help her, Nicole couldn’t decide if she admired her for it… or envied her.

Mostly, Nicole was just grateful to call her a friend, and more than anything, she wanted her happiness.

Paige leaned back in her chair, her grin widening. “I mean it. I didn’t realize how much I missed this place. The air, the water, the people. Even the gossip. It’s…comforting.”

“Careful,” Amanda teased, “another week and you’ll be signing a lease.”

“Or buying,” Paige said, her tone playful but not entirely joking.

Nicole laughed with the others, but a tiny ache stirred inside her.

For years, she’d defined herself by leaving.

By proving she could build something outside the island, outside her parents’ control, outside Tripp Masterson’s shadow.

And now Paige, the girl who’d sworn she’d never look back, was talking about coming home.

If she did, it would mean everyone who had once left had somehow found their way back. And maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Nicole took another long sip. She wasn’t about to be the sentimental one tonight. Tonight was about having fun, and she needed this brief respite from the drama in her life and in the courtroom.

The conversation drifted into favorite beaches and worst high school crushes until Paige, a little pink from the wine, blurted, “Well, at least you and Tripp are talking now.”

The room went dead silent.

Nicole froze, her glass halfway to her mouth. Paige’s eyes widened as if she wanted to swallow the words back, but it was too late. Jennifer leaned forward, brows arched high. “Excuse me?”

Nicole set her glass down carefully, as though the stem might snap in her hand. “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh, it’s exactly what I think,” Crystal said with a sly grin. “Tripp Masterson. Mister Brooding Defense Attorney. Mister First Love. Mister?—”

“Don’t,” Nicole cut in, sharper than she meant. Her voice cracked through the room, silencing the chuckles. She pressed her fingertips against her glass, grounding herself. “Yes, we talked. Once. That doesn’t mean anything. I see him almost every day in court. We’re not together again.”

Paige bit her lip. “I didn’t mean to?—”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Nicole repeated, though her voice wavered now. “We had to clear the air. That’s all. We deserve to know the truth.”

Crystal exchanged a look with Amanda, then leaned back with a little smile that said she wasn’t fooled.

Nicole forced a laugh, but it came out brittle. “We’re on opposite sides of a murder trial, for God’s sake. That’s not exactly a foundation for…” She trailed off, realizing she was about to say forever . She snatched up her wineglass and took a long swallow instead.

The others let it drop, drifting into safer gossip, but Nicole felt Paige’s gaze linger on her.

By the time the bottles were empty and the laughter had softened into that warm haze only late-night wine could bring, Paige spoke again. This time, her voice was gentle.

“Nic?”

Nicole leaned back against the sofa cushions, eyelids heavy, glass dangling loosely in her hand. “Mmm?”

“What if it wasn’t just talking?”

Nicole’s eyes snapped open. Paige’s gaze was steady now, the wine flush gone, her tone serious. “What if you and Tripp…found your way back?”

A dozen retorts leaped to Nicole’s tongue, the trial, the past, the hurt. But Paige pressed on.

“Could you live with his mother again?”

The words landed like a weight. Nicole sat up straighter, the buzz of wine thinning in an instant. The other girls glanced between them, suddenly alert. How could she ever deal with his mother again?

Paige didn’t stop. “I remember what she did to you back then, how she looked at you like you were less. Like you were stealing something that didn’t belong to you. Could you really put yourself through that again?”

Nicole’s chest tightened. Images flashed, Suzanne Masterson’s icy smile, her cutting remarks dressed up as compliments, the way she had once called Nicole that girl with a curl of her lip.

Nicole swallowed hard. “I don’t know.” Her voice was small, raw. “I don’t know if I could ever forgive her, if I confirm what she did to me and Tripp.”

Crystal leaned in. “And what about your family? After everything that happened, do you think they’d accept him back into your life? Into theirs?”

Nicole pressed her palms to her knees, staring at the rug. Her parents’ faces came to mind, the argument in the kitchen only nights ago, the admission that they’d participated. Their duplicity still stung like a fresh wound.

“I don’t know if they could accept him,” she whispered.

“I don’t know if I could accept them either.

I know they did something, but we haven’t sat down and talked about what.

Right now, I have to focus on this trial and nothing else.

And tonight, I need a little fun. A chance to get away from everything. ”

Silence settled over the group, heavier than the wine, heavier than the night.

Paige reached across and squeezed her hand. “Then maybe that’s the real question, Nic. Not whether you and Tripp still love each other. But whether you could survive the people who don’t want you together.”

Nicole’s throat ached. She blinked back tears, staring out the window at the dark horizon. The ocean roared steadily, endlessly, like it didn’t care whose hearts it swallowed.

She tightened her grip on Paige’s hand, holding on because it was all she could do.

And she knew Paige was right.

Love was one thing. Families were another. Families who hated your loved one could destroy any chance you have at happiness.

“I don’t know. I can’t answer that—not yet.

I need to understand how they did this to us, and whether we can ever get past it.

Right now, everything is up in the air, and it has to stay there until this trial is over.

A trial about a young woman who wasn’t accepted into a wealthy family.

Do you see? It’s not just her life on trial in that courtroom. It feels like mine is too.”

And sometimes, families were the most dangerous force of all.

Bianca’s trial proved it—an unflinching reminder of what happened when love collided with pride and money, when bloodlines mattered more than the beating heart of the person beside you.

Every testimony, every exhibit pulled Nicole deeper into the sickening thought that she might be prosecuting the wrong person.

The evidence pointed one way, but her instincts…

her instincts whispered another. And the weight of that nearly broke her.

She hated being wrong. Hated the idea that her drive for justice might be blinding her.

Because if she was wrong, then Bianca and her baby weren’t just victims of a single man’s crime, they were casualties of a family’s ruthless refusal to accept her.

And that truth was harder to face than any jury.

Only her first chair knew that Tripp had sent over new evidence. Evidence that drew suspicion to another person.

Soon the others drifted off to bed, and Nicole slipped out onto the deck, her glass still half-full. The boards creaked under her bare feet, the night air warm and salt-sweet. Out beyond the railing, the ocean stretched into darkness, its rhythm steady, endless, indifferent.

She tipped her glass, watching the moonlight ripple across the wine, and let out a long breath.

Paige’s words clung like sea spray on her skin: Not whether you and Tripp still love each other. But whether you could survive the people who don’t want you together.

Nicole closed her eyes, her throat thick. She’d spent years burying it, denying it, convincing herself she had moved on. But here, under the sweep of stars and the roar of the tide, there was no hiding.

She still loved him.

The truth sat in her chest, heavy and certain, terrifying in its simplicity.

She lifted the glass to her lips, drained the last swallow, and stared into the dark horizon. On Monday, she’d be the prosecutor again, sharp, steady, unshakable.

But tonight, alone with the sea, she let herself admit it. God, she still loved Tripp Masterson. Now, the question that remained was whether she could accept his mother. And would her family accept Tripp? Or did he and she move somewhere no one knew them and start fresh?