Page 72 of Johnny

head to the other bedroom across the living room and adds, “I’ll be over there.”

I glance at his room, then back to mine. “You don’t think we should go back to the yacht to get your

clothes?”

“Why? I can just buy what I need from one of those overpriced boutiques we passed.”

I nod my head slowly. “OK. Fine with me. It’s your money.”

“Not really,” he says, walking over to the French doors that lead to the patio. “But no one seems to

mind when I spend it.”

He opens the doors and suddenly the room is filled with the scent of the sea. Salt, and wind, and

sunblock.

Smells like home for some reason. I don’t know why I think that. The whole island smells like

home. But suddenly everything that’s happened over the past few weeks becomes this scent right here

and all the things I’ve lost start flashing before my eyes.

The mansion. The pools. My own bedroom. My father. And my job with him. Our lab. Our work. It

was important work. So important. And secret too.

“Megan?”

“What?”

“I said, do you want to come with me? Or wait here?”

“Where?”

“Jesus. Were you just ignoring me? I said I want to go shop for some swim trunks and then spend

the entire afternoon on the beach.”

“Sorry,” I say, pulling myself out of the memories. “I was just… thinking about something.”

“Fine. Think all you want. But do you want to come shopping or not?”

“No,” I say, remembering the phone in my pocket. “No, I’ll stay here.”

“And wear that?” He points to my shirt and shorts. His shirt and shorts.

I look down at my body and shrug. “Doesn’t really matter.”

“Fine with me,” he says, tossing me one of the wristbands. “Just put this on. There’s a chip in the charm that opens the door to the cabaña. And you can use it to charge food, if you get hungry. I’ll be

back later.”

Then he walks past me, leaving the French doors open—white gauzy curtains billowing from the

sea breeze—and leaves.

I sink down into the soft cushions of the couch and take out the flip phone. Open it up to see the