The one obsession Victor Thorne had was me. And Sophia was meant to discover why I was in his mother’s will, so he could figure out a way to reverse it. But she never learned why Julia Thorne had chosen to pay for my schooling, here and at any chosen university I attend. Those were the stipulations—to provide me with a future my mother had been denied. The same stipulations Brendan received upon inheriting his mother’s estate.
Sophia’s parting words to me, whether she knew them to be or not, were,
Expose the world to your chaos, Lana Peri. It’ll never be the same.
By the time we set foot on the Harrisons’ Nantucket estate, the sun is preparing to set. It’s been a long day of classes, followed by a flight on the scariest—and only—plane I’ve ever been on. It had propellers! Grant held my hand and didn’t complain when I dug my nails into his palm with every bump and sway. He assured me large commercial planes were much smoother. I will have to take his word on that.
The Harrisons’ Nantucket homes could easily be featured in those magazines that showcase beachside dream houses with their cedar siding and barn-shaped eaves. The one we’re staying in is clean and white with shiny tiled floors, a curving staircase and a chandelier hanging over the foyer. But it’s also homey with large, comfortable furnishings and a long wooden family table. Memories have been made here, captured in photos throughout the rooms, just like their home in Oaklawn.
“I’ll be staying in the pool house,” announces Isaac, as he insists on being called this weekend. “So I won’t know what bedrooms everyone chooses to sleep in.”
Ashton shoots me a knowing grin, rushing up the stairs to claim her guest room, towing Brendan behind her.
“I’m staying as far away from your room as possible!” I call after her.
“Do you want the master bedroom?” Joey offers, setting his bags down at the bottom of the stairs.
I cringe, not wanting to think of Niall and Olivia sharing that bed. “That’s too weird.”
“There’s another bedroom on the other side of the house if you’d prefer. It’s a guest room,” he says, looking between me and Grant.
“That’s great, thanks,” Grant replies, picking up my suitcase along with his to lead the way.
“I’ll take the master!” Lance hollers.
“No, you won’t,” Parker says. “Let Brendan and Ashton have it. It’s the only other private room besides mine.”
We leave the brothers to their arguing as we cut through the family room, pass by an office, a bathroom and a small library until we finally reach a bedroom that’s tucked far enough away that we can’t hear anyone.
“This is perfect,” I say, flipping on the light.
The room is bright and airy, painted a cream color, accented with grey and blue decor. The four-poster bed is covered with a white eyelet coverlet, and a love seat is positioned in front of a fireplace.
I step to the window with views of the pool and patio and the ocean beyond. The sun is setting somewhere on the other side of the island, casting this side in shadows of grey. Another window on the side of the house looks out on the other house on the property. Much smaller and older than this one. When I scan the roof, I recognize the wide white railings, and an involuntary shiver overtakes me.
A tap on the door turns me around. “Come in.”
Grant pauses unpacking as Sawyer stands just inside the room.
“Hey, I just wanted to update you without anyone overhearing.” He glances over his shoulder to prove that it’s just us. “My dad has been keeping an eye on the case. Looks like it may be turned over to the FBI since it crosses state lines, covering three different states. If they can connect everything, it’ll be federal. Otherwise, each state may be pursuing their own charges.”
“Federal would be better, right?” Grant confirms.
Sawyer nods. “That’s what my mom says.”
“She a spy too?” I tease.
“Federal judge,” Sawyer responds proudly.
My brows rise, as do Grant’s. Definitely not the family to mess with.
“Also … they’ve hired a young consultant to tighten the security at Blackwood, under my dad’s advisement. Just wanted to warn you. I heard the first thing on their agenda is the doors, setting up a way to tell when they’re closed while someone’s visiting and if they’re being propped or taped open when they’re meant to be shut.”
My eyes flash to Grant. Both of us recognizing how limiting this will be. Making sneaking around harder, if not impossible, which I suppose is the point.
“It’s a good thing we have an inside guy,” Brendan announces, appearing beside Sawyer.
“Go away.” It’s come to be my standard greeting whenever he’s around.
“What’s going on?” Grant asks him despite my annoyance.
“Joey’s lighting a fire in the pit if you want to come out,” Brendan responds, his eyes roaming the room. His gaze lingers out the window, where the smaller house sits in the distance, before redirecting his focus to us. “See you out there?”
Grant looks to me for an answer. I don’t. He responds instead, “Uh, give me a second.”
Brendan and Sawyer leave. I shut and lock the door behind them.
“Are you alright? Do you prefer not to hang out with everyone tonight?” Grant walks around to me, cupping the back of my neck as I look up at him.
“I’m tired,” I say, leaning into him. He wraps his arms around me. “I haven’t been sleeping very much. And I’m just … tired.”
“How about we go outside for a half hour? Then I’ll come back in here with you and … sleep.”
I chuckle into his chest. “Sleep? You hesitated there for a second. Are you sure that’s what you meant to say?” I peek up at him. “Remember, you don’t lie.”
Grant laughs, the warmth of it cascading over me like a blanket. It will forever be one of my favorite sounds. “Let’s go.”
But when we step outside, I freeze. On the other side of the fire, laughing with Brendan, is a face I recognize immediately It’s aged some, the lines around his eyes and mouth deeper, and his hair is thinner, but otherwise, he’s exactly the same. Kaden’s laughter falters when he notices me staring, transforming into a gentle smile. He nods at me. I turn around and walk back into the house.
“Did you know he was going to be here?” I demand in the kitchen, my accusatory tone catching Lance and Joey by surprise.
“Kaden?” Joey confirms. “No.”
Lance shakes his head as well.
“We’re making s’mores,” Ashton says, appearing from within a pantry, holding up a bag of marshmallows. Arden and Kaely emerge with the rest of the ingredients. Grant didn’t follow me back in, probably wanting to give me space. “Lana? Why do you have the angry-pixie face on?”
I take in the smile on my friend’s face, something she hasn’t done much since the night of the Ball. Ashton still has hints of dark circles under her eyes, and her color is still much too pale, considering it’s the end of summer.
Releasing a breath to shake off my anger, I ask, “Do you need me to get anything? Do you have roasting sticks or whatever they’re called?” I’ve never made s’mores before.