Page 152 of Vows We Never Made

“We are. Don’t be silly.”

“Sotell me!What’s going on with him? What did you find out?”

With a sigh, I give in, offering the one little tidbit that seems weird, but harmless.

“We found a letter recently.”

“Weas in you and Ethan?”

“Yep. Remember that fishing boat wreck by the old house?” I briefly explain walking through the old boat and finding that worn letter stuffed in a secret compartment.

She snickers when I mention Ethan’s lighter, but sobers when I explain the letter’s contents.

“So it was written by PopPop? Strange.”

“To your mom, yeah.”

“And it was in the boat all this time? Like before we messed around there as kids?”

“Probably. He found it not far from where you hid the lighter,” I say. “I’m surprised you never noticed.”

“Oh, I was oblivious that young. Pirate fantasies aside, I didn’t think there would be anything to find.” She chews her lip, screwing up her face. “And Ethan took it?”

“Yeah. He’s probably forgotten about it, honestly. It wasn’t a big deal and he has a lot on his plate with that ski lodge deal.”

“What did it say?”

“Not sure. He just skimmed it, but some of the writing was hard to make out. He just read out a few random lines. Something about your mom leaving town and your granddad letting her go? And something about a mistake, maybe? I don’t know. Tons of drama.”

“Secrets, secrets.” Margot’s long pastel-blue nails flash as she pulls out another bunch of flowers, stroking the petals like a petbird. “I’m glad I love them. My family’s rich and weird, which means we’re full of them.”

At least that gets her off my ass about Ethan’s past. I force a grin and laugh.

“Yeah, I bet. Just don’t get too worked up about it. I don’t think he cares that much since he hasn’t mentioned it again. It’s not like there’s anything earthshaking in there.”

“Probably not. Still, I’ll have to ask him the next time I see him.” Margot flashes a wicked grin. “PopPop took enough mysteries to the grave. I wonder if it’s about the lake house?”

I throw her a puzzled look.

“That cabin he had with my grandma upstate, not too far from Bar Harbor. He didn’t go there much after Grams died. I’ve heard it’s in kinda rough shape. But it hasn’t come up yet and I’m wondering if it has my name on it. I need to talk to Wilkes soon.”

“Could be,” I agree, encouraging her distraction.

“If there’s anything bonkers there, we’re going to find out,” she whispers, a determined look crossing her face. “Trust me to keep digging.”

18

ALL THE HEAT (ETHAN)

There’s nothing worse than New York when a summer heat wave hits.

Give me Phoenix or Las Vegas any day, where people have a real excuse to huddle inside their air-conditioned caves until the desert goes dark, and nobody questions it.

New York City is at its best in the cooler months, when the asphalt doesn’t turn into an oven and the trash in the alleys doesn’t leave your nose reeling.

The sun brings out the worst in the people, too. Grouchy tourists and overactive kids, plus frustrated residents who just wish the seasonal drop-in crowd would fucking disappear.

I don’t like New York in hell mode.