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Despite having sunglasses on, too, she raised a hand to block the sun. “You’re leaving? But...you just got here.”
“I’m going back to the cottage. It’s too damn hot for the beach today,” he said, but she got the distinct impression that his leaving had nothing to do with the temperature.
“You told her about Lyssa?” Bastian knew he probably shouldn’t have called his brother. This wouldn’t end well. Most of their conversations didn’t. But he’d had enough to drink since he’d come back from the beach that he was aching for a fight.
“What are you talking about?” Remy sounded confused.
“Lyssa Helberg. I know you remember her, so don’t pretend.”
“Bastian, I’m studying. I don’t have time for this.”
“You’d better make time, brother,” he said, pivoting at the fireplace to head back across the living room. “After all, I’m here alone with your fiancée.”
There was a long pause. Bastian almost thought his brother had hung up—until Remy spoke again. “Is that some sort of threat?”
“What would you do if it was? Go to Mom and Dad?” Bastian peered through the window toward the walkway leading to the front porch. It’d been two hours since he’d left Ismay at the public beach. He didn’t expect her to come back yet, not with her brother joining her at some point. They’d probably hang out all afternoon and have dinner together. But he also didn’t want her to walk in on this conversation.
“I might. You know how you get.”
Did he have to be so damn patronizing? Bastian could never have a legitimate complaint. Remy passed off whatever he had to say as his own fault because he wasn’tright in the head, which was so fucked up it made Bastian instantly angry. “Stop with the bullshit! Don’t pass this off like you do everything else, saying it must be me because it’s always me.”
“Will you calm down?”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Bastian warned. “You think you’re so superior, just because you’ve been through med school. But you’re not a doctor yet, even though you act like you are.”
“I don’t have to be a doctor to know you need mood stabilizers or something, buddy. Anyone who’s around you for five minutes can tell you that.”
“Fuck you!” he said.
“I don’t remember telling Ismay anything about Lyssa,” Remy said, ignoring Bastian’s foul language. “I can’t imagine why I ever would.”
“You must have. She just asked me about her.”
“What would make her ask about Lyssa?”
“She heard about Emily Hutchins, and...never mind. It doesn’t matter how it came up. It just did. And she said you told her Lyssa died in a fire.”
“Shediddie in a fire.”
“Because ofyou!”
“Not because of me.” His brother remained calm, but his words were velvet over steel.
“She was the only girl I ever loved!” Bastian railed. “I don’t want you talking about her. Ever! Do you hear? Not to anyone.”
“Fine,” Remy responded wearily. “Like I said, I don’t remember doing it in the first place. Maybe Bo told her.”
“He didn’t live on the island back then. But there’s something about that son of a bitch. He watches everything. Listens to everything. I don’t trust him. Neither should you. He acts respectful, but... I think he hates us.”
“He doesn’t hate us,” Remy said. “Don’t get paranoid—I’m not worried about Bo. Now I have to go. My exams are coming up, and I’m running out of time to study.”
“There’s something going on between him and Ismay, Remy.”
The silence that followed was all too satisfying, so satisfying that Bastian was tempted to reinforce his statement—to tell Remy that he was losing her to Bo, that he’d found them sleeping in the same room even though the storm no longer made that necessary, that her brother had just arrived and yet he was helping Bo fix the place up after the stormfor free.
Still, he held off, so he wouldn’t make Remy defensive. He’d said enough; he just needed to let the seed of suspicion he’d planted take root and grow on its own...
“What makes you say that?” Remy’s voice was low when he spoke again.
