“What I really need”—I gave them both a look—“is for you to tell me what happened.”
Mom turned away, busying herself with uncovering my salad and pouring the dressing. “I don’t want you to worry about that right now, Belle. Focus on recovering.”
“I’m recovered. The doctors say I can get out of here in a few days. Carter and Preston too. The bullet grazed his shoulder, and Preston will be laid up for a while, but he’ll be fine in a few weeks. Everyone will be fine—including me if I know the truth. Please.”
“Belle.” Dad took hold of me, pressing a soft, loving, fatherly kiss to my hand.
“What happened with the detectives?” I asked. “Did they get away?”
“They... tried,” Mom began. “Thankfully, the real authorities arrested Ortiz and Hanson before they could get away.”
“Did they try to help in the end? They sent that fake photo of Nathan dead.”
She shook their head. “It wasn’t them who did the right thing. It was a man named Dean. One of Desai’s security guards. Mr. Fuller wasn’t the only one Byrne got to. He threatened the man’s family and employed him to stay behind and kill the boys if it came to it.
“When it did come down to it, he texted Preston instead and spilled the truth. He didn’t want the reward. He just wanted to do the right thing. After the police stormed the shack and didn’t find you, Malcolm told him to carry out the deed in punishment for giving him away. That’s when we realized we couldn’t trust someone in the police,” she said.
Her eyes welled up, and I took her hand too.
“The b-boys faked the photo to let him think his plan was still running smoothly, but we were frantic—not knowing who we could trust. Your father went to buy a gun and find you himself.
“In the confusion, the boys stole Mr. Hendrix’s keys and slipped away. Nathan had been adamant Fuller’s note was connected to you. Your message mentioned a boat and that you were still on the island. Maybe Mal was waiting for Friday too. We had to find you before then, and when they disappeared, we knew where they went.”
Sighing, I let my head fall back. “I guess I know the rest.”
“We’re so sorry, Belle. We should’ve called the authorities ourselves. We should have stormed that dock for you.”
“You did, Mom,” I whispered. “You came for me. I knew you would.”
“Oh, Belle.” My father’s cheeks and beard were soaked. “How can you do this? Forgive us so easily. This wouldn’t have happened if we didn’t force you to come here.”
“That’s not true, Daddy.” I would’ve reached for a tissue to wipe his face if both of my hands weren’t held tight. “Malcolm spent his time in Bracknell working up the same plan. He told me I got on the plane only a week before he was going to grab me. Being here bought me more time and an amazing summer with three guys who’d do anything for me. I’ve officially stopped picturing the nursing home I was going to put you in.”
My dad made a noise close to a laugh. Tobias Adler had the milage in his wrinkles and salt-and-pepper beard—that was now mostly salt—that came with becoming a father in his forties and raising a wily girl like me. Even in his youth, his voice wasn’t music. He didn’t stop hearts with his smile, or command life and death with a flexing of his power.
But that was okay. For a father, I’d take a real, honest man over a siren any day.
“You may still decide to put me in that nursing home,” he said softly.
“What do you mean?”
Dad looked to Mom. She nodded.
“It’s time, dear.”
“Time for what?” I asked.
“For you to know the real reason we sent you to the cove.”
“The real reason?” I glanced from Mom to my father—who had gone silent. “Dad?”
He finally met my gaze. “The business is failing, Belle. Sea Queen Cruise Lines is on the edge of bankruptcy.”
“I...” I trailed off, speech deserting me. Bankruptcy?
“It’s bad, darling,” Mom said. “While you’ve been gone, we’ve slowly sold off the cars, paintings, homes, antiques. Everything. It’ll be enough to cover our debts, your college, and a modest amount for us to live on, but all we have left is the home in England.”
The homes. The cars. My homes and cars. My entire life for the last fourteen years. Gone.
“So, you wanted me to get married—”
“—for the reason we gave you, Belle,” Dad finished. “So you’d always be taken care of. Our Arabella entrusted you to us, and I f-failed you.” My lips trembled seeing him crumble. “I’ve failed all of you. But it’s you, my girl, who had so much more to lose if we couldn’t afford to protect and keep you from him. We thought the cove was our solution.”
“We were wrong,” Mom said clearly. “And we knew it before all of this happened. Our job wasn’t only to protect you, but to see you happy. This is your life, Belle, and you deserve to run into your soulmate outside an ice cream parlor. Spend your years building a life, a friendship, and a family.” She stroked my cheek, wiping away the wetness. “Get married or don’t get married. Go to Parsons or London. The choice is yours. Please, forgive us for trying to take it away from you.”
“You don’t have to apologize, Mom.” I squeezed their hands tight. “Everything you do is because you love me.”
THE TELEVISION PLAYED on low, showing an episode of Psych I’d seen a million times before, but I let it play anyway. I could use a laugh. Didn’t matter where it came from.
This was my last night in the hospital. The doctor swore my parents could take me home the next day, and they left to prepare to do just that.
A creak echoed in the room. “Belle? You up?”
I raised my head. “Carter? What’s wrong?” I asked as he padded to me, holding his hospital gown closed. “Is everything okay?”
“It will be.” Carter leaned over me and brushed his lips down my forehead, nose, and finally, on my mouth. I melted into the kiss.
“You’re right,” I whispered. “Everything is okay now.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“After the summer,” he said. “Can we have it now?”
A smile stretched across my lips. “You can have winter, spring, fall, and all the summers to come, Carter Knight. I love you.”
“I love you too, barnacle.”
I laughed. “That will not be our pet name.”
“Can I ask you something else? How are you feeling?”
“A bit sore, but I’ll be okay. The doctor says a few weeks and I’ll be on my feet.”
He nodded as he stepped back. The mattress shook as he pressed on it. “And the bed... is it sturdy?”
My mouth fell open. “Oh my gosh. You’re trying to get some in a hospital?” I cried.
He held up a condom. “Guilty as charged.”
“Carter!”
His grin could only be described as wolfish. “This is the part where I’m supposed to feel ashamed, but really, I feel like the stubborn idiot everyone calls me. We had so many perfect nights on the beach, and I turned you down because I didn’t want them to end.”