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“Jesus, Maison. Can you stop with the charm for one second and let me be angry? I have a right to be angry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally asks after a few seconds of agonizing silence. “About Nigel blackmailing you? I would have kicked his ass as soon as I found out.”

I finally turn to meet his smouldering look, and his chestnut eyes flicker. “I didn’t think you’d understand. And I’m still not clear about what happened with Olivia. You never talk about her, Maison.”

“You’d be surprised what I understand. Are you going to tell me who Chris is?”

I take a deep breath. As mad as I am at him right now, he still deserves an explanation. “He was my teacher. He pursued me when I turned seventeen, though I knew it was wrong.”

I look over at him. His jaw sets and eyes narrow. He says nothing, so I keep going. “We snuck around for a bit. Nothing crazy.”

“Did you… did you sleep with him?”

I cast my gaze downward. “We made out after my rehearsal, in school hallways after hours, and in his classrooms. It was pretty scuzzy when I look back at it. He was married, while I was a naive girl in love. We only had sex once, in a hotel room, right before my eighteenth birthday. His wife found out about it shortly after finding his hotel receipt in his emails.”

“How old was he?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Jesus, London.”

It feels good to get this out, so I close my eyes and continue, “I was in the school play, and they needed a dancer. I saw the way he looked at me, so I danced for him. He cornered me after rehearsal one night and put his hand under my shirt, and I let him. I had never received that kind of attention before.”

Maison shakes his head. “What a fucking scumbag.”

“I thought I loved him. He told me how smart I was, how I was destined for great things. He gave me a top grade in English when I probably didn’t deserve it. He got fired, and I got labeled as a home-wrecker and a slut. I had to leave… I couldn’t stay at that school anymore.”

He loosens his breath. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad I’m away from him. I couldn’t see it, but it was the best thing for me.”

I raise my eyes to meet him. “You were my first, Maison, in every meaningful way. I’m sorry I lied to you. I should have trusted you and told you, even when Nigel threatened me.” His eyes flash at the mention of Nigel. “Nigel hates Micah,” I say. “Why is he so invested in this? Did he know Olivia?”

He shakes his head. “No, no way. He was just some loser nobody cared about. He’s just bitter cause he doesn’t have any fucking friends.”

Nigel’s more involved than Maison thinks—his hatred for the twins runs deep.

I open my mouth to speak, but Maison interrupts my train of thought. “Micah doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s lost control of the group. They made a choice without including him. Don’t blame him for what happened. There was nothing he could have done to stop it.”

My heart skips a beat at the realization of what that means. If Micah is not in control, that means Ezra is, or worse yet, Nigel. And that’s much worse than Micah being in charge—at least Micah shows some remorse.

“Are you two better now?” he asks. I’m assuming Micah and Maison have hashed things out regarding what Micah and I did at the cove. If only I could hear that conversation.

“We’ve talked,” I tell him.

He caresses his fingers through my hair. “No one is going to hurt you again, London. Micah and I will kill them if they do.”

Maison doesn’t know about Ezra and what his parents did, otherwise, he wouldn’t put so much blind trust in him if he did. I don’t feel like bringing it up, but I know it’s just one more secret that will unravel this island if I don’t.

Maison takes my pause as an opportunity to slip his tongue inside me, and I’m still so tired I can barely move. And he’s warm, so warm. He moves his hands along my belly as he likes to do and rests his lips on my neck.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

I lay still in his arms and close my eyes, putting everything out of my head. I plan to wrap my legs around him all night and not let go till morning. Everything else can wait till tomorrow.

I crouch behind a boulder, keeping myself steady while my spear rests on the ground in front of me, ready to grab it at a moment’s notice. I wait for Micah at the cove, having removed a layer of clothing to keep myself more agile. My hair is freshly braided after the quick dip in the lake, and the sun hides behind the clouds, dusting the water a dark gray.

Micah’s been teaching me how to hunt. Well, more like how properly use the wooden spear I’ve taken a liking to. He will visit me today at the usual time, and my tummy grumbles at the thought. My energy is better now. Usually when he comes, he brings me smoked meat—and I’ve long suspected he brings Maison food, too. Perhaps it’s only because he doesn’t want me to tell anyone about his secret camp spot, but I also think it’s his way of apologizing. I don’t ask questions, I just rip my teeth into that rabbit like it’s the last supper.