I grimace.
Six years ago, they might have hated each other but it was a quiet, simmering hatred. Whispered curses and eye rolls. Now everything seems to be messy and exposed. Like there’s one string left holding things together before they just explode on each other.
One thing is certain: Brian can’t know Parry asked me here.
My cover story better hold up. It’s the only thing keeping the pin in the grenade.
With Parry gone, the tension thickens the closer Brian approaches the bar. He sets the box of crab claws heavily onto the stool beside me.
Confusion wrinkles the edges of his eyes, and his hair is starting to gray at his temples.
Thirty-nine.
Shit, I can’t believe my brother is almost out of his thirties. He was only thirty-three when I left.
We have a fifteen-year age gap, but it’s not really strange considering we’re biologically half siblings. Brian, Colt, and I all share the same dad. Different moms.
He still hasn’t looked at me. Instead, he digs into his raincoat and unearths his cell. He intently scrolls, clicks, and types. It’s unnerving.
“You’re really not going to say anything?” I ask him.
“There’s a Greyhound leaving tonight. I’m booking you on the first one out of town.”
The floor might as well drop from underneath my stool. “What?”
For the first time, he finally meets my gaze. We share the same blue eyes. Rough and turbulent like the lake outside these doors.
“When you turned eighteen, I told you to stay,” he says each word with a precision and sharpness like he’s brandishing a razorblade. “I told you what would happen if you left.”
The roots are rotted underneath our family tree. Decaying. Gone.
“You told me I’d have no home here,” I say in a soft whisper. “I remember, I just thought—”
“You thought I was lying?” he says coldly.
“No, I didn’t think that.”
“But you thought I’d change my mind and accept you back with open arms.” He doesn’t phrase it like a question. Because it really isn’t.
Brian has always been a stern, angry person. But he’s been a decent brother. So maybe I did think that seeing me would trigger a change of heart. Especially since I always thought it was more of an empty threat to get me to stay.
He was the biggest cheerleader on Team Mistpoint Harbor and aggressively against those on Team Chicago. He needed help with The Drunk Pelican, and my college plans weren’t part of the familial responsibility to the pub.
And maybe I was the selfish one, running out.
So it’s hard to blame the anger that rolls off Brian in waves, but I’m still his little sister. We’re both still Durands. We grew up as outcasts in an already cursed town. There’s got to be some solidarity in a single cell in his body.
“Aren’t you even going to ask why I’m back?” I snap.
“I don’t want to know. I don’t need to know. You’ll be gone in…” He checks his motherfucking watch. “An hour.”
“I’m not leaving, Brian. I’m here to write a book.”
“A book. You?” he states like it’s absurd. Me writing a book.
“Yeah, me,” I almost shout. “I’m Agatha fucking Christie. Have a problem with that?”
“No. Just go Agatha-Christie-yourself someplace else.”
“I can’t. It’s about Mistpoint Harbor.”
“What is?”
“The book!” He’s exhausting me.
I’m rattling him. “No. No.” His gaze darkens. “You’re not. Not here.”
“Yes, I am, and I’m not leaving.”
He takes a long breath like he can’t ingest enough oxygen to fill his lungs. And then he glares at me. “Well, you’re not staying here.”
“My room—”
“Is gone. I turned it into my office after you left.”
I try and ignore the pain that flares in my chest. Can’t blame him—I remind myself. I chose to leave.
That’s on me.
“So you’re kicking me out?”
“That’s not how I see it. You have a place to go: the bus station. And I’m happy to buy your ticket if you’re strapped for cash.”
“How sweet of you,” I say sharply and jump off the stool. I almost ask him if he knows anything about Colt—but that’s doubtful. My brothers have their own tempestuous history with each other.
I grab my suitcase. “I don’t need your cash. I’ll find another place in Mistpoint to stay.”
His scowl darkens. “None of the inns will house a Durand. That hasn’t fucking changed since you’ve been gone.”
I could call Parry, but if I have any hope of mending this rift between me and Brian, then I shouldn’t be asking favors from Parry DiNapoli right now. It’ll only stir the pot, and I need this boil to come to a low simmer.
“I’ll figure it out,” I tell Brian. “Thanks for nothing.”
I leave him in the pub. Hoping he’ll come rushing out. Telling me to hold on! Wait! Something that a big brother would do to protect his little sister. But then again, I grew up being bullied by a lot of people in this town and there was only one person who’d ever come to my defense.
And it was never my brothers.
CHAPTER 4
Zoey Durand
Ten Years Ago
Age 14
There has to be some sort of mistake. I stare at my course schedule with wide eyes. The dreaded D word stares back at me. I didn’t sign up for drama. In fact, I remember picking my top choices for electives. Drama did not make the cut. Not even close.
I wanted an elective where I could sit in the back of the classroom and disappear into the wall. Be invisible.
Drama is the antithesis of invisible.
So how the fuck did I get put in this class?
It’s what I want to say to the lady in the school office, but I don’t think that’ll help my cause. While she chats on the phone, I rock on the balls of my feet impatiently and regrip the long stick of my black umbrella. First period is Drama 101. If I don’t get this sorted out pronto—I’m going to be late for class.
First day of high school.
First day at Mistpoint High.
And I’m already seconds from screwing up my one goal: blend in.
Just…blend.
It really can’t be that hard.
Elementary and middle school, I skated by with only a few hallway pushes and shoves. Sure, in fourth grade Macie Byrne tripped me in the cafeteria, and my tray of mushed carrots and a hockey puck hamburger went sailing. Everyone laughed.
Didn’t want that disgusting food anyway.
Oh, and there was that one time in seventh grade where Aiden Gray sat behind me in class and stuck gum in my hair.
I needed a haircut. Anyway…
Up until (possibly) today, I blended pretty well. All things considered. And I had a friend back then. Now Vittoria is gone. The Romanos made a surprise move to Milwaukee last month, taking my only friend with them. Leaving me to face this town and ninth grade with no friendly companion.
I’m on my own.