It hit her like a shockwave. The realization that no matter what they decided, or how they acted toward each other, there was something branded in their DNA that would always recognize the other. She would always feel that shiver of awareness when he was in the room.
“Well, if it isn’t Little Remi Ford,” someone beckoned her from across the room.
“I’ll go get us drinks,” Spencer said in her ear and made his way toward the bar.
Remi pretended to throw herself into socializing, catching up with two classmates, her old history teacher, and Kimber’s next-door neighbor, who apologized for calling the cops on their argument. She wondered how long she could stay before disappointing Spencer and heading home to mope.
Spencer returned with two bright yellow drinks and a beer, and they made themselves at home in the corner using the windowsill as a table. “Brick said not to let you drink too much,” Spencer reported.
That fucking guy.
“Did he tell you about Mom?” Spencer asked.
Remi shook her head. Brick rarely mentioned either parent. “What about her?”
“Says she wants to come for a visit this summer. Stay at the hotel, get the whole island experience.”
“She’s never been here before, has she?” Remi asked.
Spencer shook his head and waved across the bar at someone. “Never. I catch up with her once a year or so. We meet up in a city for a long weekend or whatever. But Brick hasn’t seen her in years. I don’t think he ever forgave her for leaving. Or maybe he never forgave himself for being so hurt when she left.”
Remi winced, not wanting to think about Brick or Brick being a human under his disciplined, grumpy, hard-bodied exterior.
“How old were you guys when she left?” she asked as Spencer tugged at the label on his bottle.
“I was ten. Brick was almost eighteen. He was gonna do the military thing after high school but changed his mind when she left. He didn’t trust Dad to take care of me.”
Remi reached out and gripped his shoulder. “It’s a good thing he stuck with you. Otherwise you two might not have ended up here, and we wouldn’t have had the opportunity to sink your brother’s snowmobile.”
He smirked. “It’s funny how things work out.”
“How’s your dad these days?” she asked.
“Good. Real good. Started his own business. Seems to be keeping out of trouble with the law. We talk a lot. I think he’s trying to make up for all the Before years.”
Remi’s gaze slid to the bar where Brick and Darius were working the taps in tandem. “Does Brick talk to him?”
“Nah. He wrote Dad off before the prison door slammed shut on him. In Brick’s mind, both our parents up and left us. I was always glad he had your family. Your mom was the one who talked him into applying for the force.”
Remi nodded. “I remember. Good crowd tonight,” she said, changing the subject.
“I thought maybe Audrey would come back for the first,” Spencer said, his eyes flicking to the door.
“Hey, how come you two never got together?”
“Me and Audrey?” His shock was 100 percent fake.
“You had a crush on her in high school,” she pointed out.
“That was just kid stuff,” he insisted, taking a giant swallow of his drink. “Is that Travis Mailer over there? I’ll be right back.”
Remi watched him run away from her question. She was just reaching for her drink when her phone buzzed in her back pocket.
It was a text from Brick. She thought about ignoring it, then decided she was wasting too much energy and opened it.
It was a link to a news article, and she nearly spit her drink out when she read the headline.
Senator’s wife holds ‘no ill-will’ toward artist that caused accident.
With shaking hands, she opened the article and skimmed it.
“Camille Vorhees…recently released from the hospital…”
“I hold no ill-will toward Alessandra Ballard for causing the accident. The tragic events have made me even more grateful for my husband and the life we’re blessed to lead. We are both happy she is getting the help she needs and hope everyone will respect her privacy at this time.”
There was a photo of Camille in front of the fireplace in the library of her Chicago home, looking hauntingly fragile in an ivory sheath. Somehow she made being on crutches look elegant.
Dizzy and sick. Oddly relieved. Her body started to shake, her teeth chattered.
The press of the crowd was too much. The music too loud. She needed a moment to breathe. Weaving her way through tables and warm bodies, she veered off down the hallway toward the restrooms.
She’d sneak up to the second floor and have her meltdown in private. The office door opened just as she was walking past it. Brick filled the doorway, and her feet rooted to the floor. He looked furious. But she didn’t want to deal with this. With him.
She shook her head and forced her feet into motion. But she didn’t make it a second step past him. His hand closed around her wrist with a stinging grip, and she found herself being yanked back into the office. He used her own body to force the door shut before pinning her to the wood with his hips.
“What the fuck is going on?” he demanded.
“Now is not a good time,” she hissed.
“You’re shaking like a fucking leaf. Why is your friend saying that bullshit about you?” He crowded her against the door, using his body to absorb her tremors. “Talk to me.”
He believed her. He believed her over Camille, over what everyone else would be saying, the rumors that would be flying. He believed her. For some reason, that faith made her want to cry.
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both. She has her reasons. You need to leave me alone, Brick. We’ve done this dance before.” She hated that the weight of his body against hers instantly made her feel calmer, safer.
“Why? So you can date my brother?” Now he didn’t look furious. He looked miserable as pain bloomed in those sharp blue eyes.
“For Pete’s sake, Brick. Spence is like a brother to me. And not in the way you keep pretending to think of me as a sister. But you don’t get to tell me you don’t want to be with me and then throw a fit when I end up with someone else.”
He bared his teeth at her, and she half expected him to take a bite out of her. Instead he shifted gears. “Are you just going to let everyone believe you were the one driving that night?”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
He shook his head slowly. “The Remi I know would have that woman by the lady balls and crying for a teddy bear for lying. So I repeat. What the fuck is going on? Why aren’t you burning down her world right now?”
The laugh she tried to force came out as a half sob. “This doesn’t concern you. Leave it the fuck alone.”
He muttered something under his breath about murder, and Remi looked at him. Really looked at him.
“You really do believe me, don’t you?”
He looked annoyed. “I know when you’re lying.”
“Yeah. When I was eighteen. But I could have gotten better at it. I could be a different person. One you don’t know,” she pushed.
“I know that if you fucked up like that, you’d move heaven and earth to make it right. You’d have confessed on the scene, demanded a breathalyzer, and put yourself in the back of a squad car if you thought you put your friend in the hospital.”