So, I’d gone to bed last night full of righteous anger—alone, since Toby had moved all his shit into the main house—but I hadn’t been able to sleep. Instead, I’d replayed that incredible, confusing round of kitchen sex over and over in my mind, along with the conversation before and after it. I’d pounded my pillow and debated hauling Toby out of the main house and back to the guesthouse to sleep next to me and Marjorie, where he belonged, but I hadn’t.
When I finally fell asleep, I dreamed of Toby drowning in the shallow end of the pool, and the look on his face was the same one he’d worn last night when he’d reminded me I had a soul mate waiting for me.
That got my heart racing, and blinking my eyes open to the sight of Marjorie’s butt instead of Toby’s sly smile only made my snarly mood worse. And that was even before Mason came knocking on the door carrying a tray full of pancakes and syrup, with a sleepy Fenn trailing behind him.
“Where’s Toby?” he demanded, looking around like I might be hiding the man under a piece of furniture. “I made him pancakes to apologize for being cranky last night.”
“He’s with you.” I filled the kettle, turned on the burner, and nodded toward the main house.
“Mmm, that’d be a no,” Fenn said with a yawn. “The only bed in the place so far is the one in our room, and I was happily sprawled in it until Mase shouted at me three minutes ago.” When Mason shot him a look, he grinned and corrected, “I mean, until my beloved’s dulcet tones awakened me like the most beautiful birdsong. And Toby wasn’t sleeping on the living room couch, right? My eyes weren’t fully open when I shuffled past.”
Mason shook his head, brow furrowed, and set the tray of pancakes down on the counter.
Yes, that counter. I avoided looking at it.
“But he took his suitcase,” I said dumbly. “He has no way off the island. He’s gotta be in your house.”
“You sure about that?” Fenn scratched his head. “Everyone on the Key seemed to know and like him. Pretty sure he could’ve gotten anyone to take him to the airport? Or maybe asked to crash on their couch.”
“Besides, Toby has plenty of money.” Mason rubbed a palm over his forehead tiredly. “He does some kind of writing for a living, and he’s got a rainy-day fund that’s like the GDP of a small country. If he wanted to leave, he’d find a way. Shit.” He slumped onto one of the stools dejectedly. “I should have known he’d leave. That’s what he does. When things in his relationships get tough, he backs off. Hell, even when you and I got together, he stopped returning my calls for a little while,” he told Fenn, who’d placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Toby hates leaving himself open to being hurt.”
I got out my phone and texted Littlejohn: Hey, is Trey with you?
“This doesn’t make sense. Toby wanted to talk to you, Mase. He wanted your advice about his problem in New York.” My head pounded and I winced. “That’s why he came to the Key. He wouldn’t have left without talking to you.”
“Yeah, well.” Mason winced. “He may have tried to ask last night, and I may have been a teensy bit harsh with him.”
Fenn snorted. “You think?”
Mase shot him a look, but Fenn didn’t back down, and Mason sighed.
“Harsh how?” I asked.
“You don’t date people casually, Beale,” Mason hedged.
“Right.”
“And I care about you very much, which makes me feel a little… protective. Toby’s not the kind of person I’d have picked for you, and I maybe snapped at him for taking advantage of you.”
“Taking advantage of me? Toby?” He’d lied, sure, and I was angry, but that wasn’t the same thing as taking advantage. I’d known who he was and what he wanted from me since the first night we met.
“You’ve gotta understand, it’s not that Toby’s a bad person,” Mason hurried to say. “He’s not! I’ve known him since college, and beneath that super-snarky, abrasive exterior, he’s got a kind and generous side he doesn’t show often.”
“I know.”
“He got his heart broken so often freshman year, I swear he got a permanent callus, which is why… Wait, you know?” He frowned like this sentence didn’t compute.
“I know he’s a kind, generous person,” I clarified. “I didn’t know about the heartbreak. Keep going.” It tightened my chest to hear it.
“Uh. Well.” Mason didn’t seem any less confused after my explanation. “I was going to say, he came back to school sophomore year, and it was like a switch had flipped. He didn’t let anyone in anymore. He was all about having a good time and being self-reliant after that. And it wasn’t a phase. He’s been that way for… oh, fifteen years or so? Something like that.”
Oh, Toby. Angry as I was, I couldn’t hear that without my gut churning.
“Was that after his parents kicked him out?”
“He told you about that?” Mason’s eyes went wide. “He didn’t tell me until years after the fact! I just figured he stayed at school for breaks since he liked it better.” He looked affronted.
I shrugged. “He didn’t give me details, Mase, he just told me that it happened.” And I’d been afraid to push too hard to learn more. “Could you fast-forward to the part where he somehow took advantage of me?”
Mason blew out a breath. “I already told you. Toby’s casual about sex, and you’re not. I told him he was wrong to mess around with you just because you’re hot when he had to know—”
“You think Beale’s hot?” Fenn demanded. “Since when?”
“I have eyes, don’t I?” Mason arched an eyebrow. “I mean, he’s not as hot as Watt Bartlett, obviously…”
Fenn’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling. “This again?”
“This forever,” Mason said haughtily. “You don’t get to make eyes at my brother’s friend and expect me to ignore it.”
“I have never ‘made eyes’ at anyone in my life, except possibly you.” Fenn crowded Mason, standing between his legs, and tried to kiss him.
Mason turned his head. “Oh, really? Even though, as you have reminded me no less than four times this week, Watt has an iconic 1966 Chevy Corvette in his barn that he wants you to see next time we visit?”
“But I’d bet he hasn’t got a pair of loafers to his name,” Fenn said solemnly. “And I find I have very specific tastes these days.”
Mason snorted, but his mouth turned up at one corner. He slid a hand up Fenn’s chest. “That’s true love right there.”
“It really is.”
Blurgh. “Focus, people,” I demanded. “And not on Fenn’s shoe fetish. Mason, finish. You told off your best friend because he and I chose to have sex?”
Fenn shifted to one side, and Mason tilted his head against Fenn’s chest. He looked at me and sighed guiltily.
“I jumped to conclusions. I told Toby you were sweet and good…” He wrinkled his nose. “Toby said I described you like a cookie, and he was right. I should have listened better when he said you were capable.”