style="font-size:15px;"> “Will I have to hide indoors?” The little girl’s voice cut through the memories.
“I— No. I don’t think so.” The questions were never-ending, feeding her own sense of inadequacy until, bloated with doubt, she could no longer find her confident self.
She wanted to run, but she couldn’t.
There was no one else.
She fumbled in her bag for a bottle of water, but it made no difference. Her mouth was still dry. It had been dry since the moment the phone on her desk had rung with the news that had changed her life. “We’ll have to think about school.”
“I’ve never been to school.”
Emily reminded herself that this child’s life had never been close to normal. She was the daughter of a movie star, conceived during an acclaimed Broadway production of Romeo and Juliet. There had been rumors that the father was Lana’s co-star, but as he’d been married with two children at the time, that had been vehemently denied by all concerned. They’d recently been reunited on their latest project, and now he was dead, too, killed in the same crash that had taken Lana, along with the director and members of the production team.
Juliet.
Emily closed her eyes. Thanks, Lana. Sky was right. She was going to have to do something about the name. “We’re just going to take this a day at a time.”
“Will he find us?”
“He?”
“The man with the camera. The tall one who follows me everywhere. I don’t like him.”
Cold oozed through the open windows, and Emily closed them quickly, checking that the doors were locked.
“He won’t find us here. None of them will.”
“They climbed into my house.”
Emily felt a rush of outrage. “That won’t happen again. They don’t know where you live.”
“What if they find out?”
“I’ll protect you.”
“Do you promise?” The childish request made her think of Skylar and Brittany.
Let’s make a promise. When one of us is in trouble, the others help, no questions.
Friendship.
For Emily, friendship had proven the one unbreakable bond in her life.
Panic was replaced by another emotion so powerful it shook her. “I promise.” She might not know anything about being a mother and she might not be able to love, but she could stand between this child and the rest of the world.
She’d keep that promise, even if it meant dying her hair purple.
“I SAW LIGHTS in Castaway Cottage.” Ryan pulled the bow line tight to prevent the boat moving backward in the slip. From up above, the lights from the Ocean Club sent fingers of gold dancing across the surface of the water. Strains of laughter and music floated on the wind, mingling with the call of seagulls. “Know anything about that?”
“No, but I don’t pay attention to my neighbors the way you do. I mind my own business. Did you try calling Brittany?”
“Voice mail. She’s somewhere in Greece on an archaeological dig. I’m guessing the sun isn’t even up there yet.”
The sea slapped the sides of the boat as Alec set the inshore stern line. “Probably a summer rental.”
“Brittany doesn’t usually rent the cottage.” Together they finished securing the boat, and Ryan winced as his shoulder protested.
Alec glanced at him. “Bad day?”
“No worse than usual.” The pain reminded him he was alive and should make the most of every moment. A piece of his past that forced him to pay attention to the present. “I’ll go over to the cottage in the morning and check it out.”
“Or you could mind your own business.”
Ryan shrugged. “Small island. I like to know what’s going on.”
“You can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Just being friendly.”
“You’re like Brittany, always digging.”
“Except she digs in the past, and I dig in the present. Are you in a rush to get back to sanding planks of wood or do you want a beer?”
“I could force one down if you’re paying.”
“You should be the one paying. You’re the rich Brit.”
“That was before my divorce. And you’re the one who owns a bar.”
“I’m living the dream.” Ryan paused to greet one of the sailing club coaches, glanced at the times for high and low tides scrawled on the whiteboard by the dockside and then walked with Alec up the ramp that led from the marina to the bar and restaurant. Despite the fact it was only early summer, it was alive with activity. Ryan absorbed the lights and the crowds, remembering how the old disused boatyard had looked three years earlier. “So, how is the book going? It’s unlike you to stay in one place this long. Those muscles will waste away if you spend too much time staring at computer screens and flicking through dusty books. You’re looking puny.”
“Puny?” Alec rolled powerful shoulders. “Do I need to remind you who stepped in to help you finish off the Ocean Club when your shoulder was bothering you? And I spent last summer building a replica Viking ship in Denmark and then sailing it to Scotland, which involved more rowing hours than I want to remember. So you can keep your judgmental comments about dusty books to yourself.”
“You do know you’re sounding defensive? Like I said. Puny.” Ryan’s phone beeped, and he pulled it out of his pocket and checked the text. “Interesting.”
“If you’re waiting for me to ask, you’ll wait forever.”
“It’s Brittany. She’s loaned Castaway Cottage to a friend in trouble, which explains the lights. She wants me to watch over her.”
“You?” Alec doubled up with soundless laughter. “That’s like giving a lamb to a wolf and saying ‘Don’t eat this’”
“Thank you. And who says she’s a lamb? If the friend is anything like Brittany, she might be a wolf, too. I still have a scar where Brittany shot me in the butt with one of her arrows two summers ago.”
“I thought she had perfect aim. She missed her target?”
“No. I was her target.” Ryan texted a reply.
“You’re telling her you have better things to do than babysit the friend.”
“I’m telling her I’ll do it. How hard can it be? I drop by, offer a shoulder to cry on, comfort
