Page 13 of Acadia Falls

JACK

“Making new friends?” Daisy asked when I got back on my barstool.

I shrugged. “You know me. I don’t actually have any friends.”

She winked. “Except me. And Tommy.”

Tommy grunted from his neighboring barstool. “Don’t include me on that list.”

All conversation ceased when our brother Ryan walked in with Tori Blaisdell. They were immediately seated at a table near the window. Ryan pointed outside, probably schooling her on the local history, a move he’d developed in the fifth grade. The actress watched him with wide eyes, nodding along as if he were the most interesting fucker in the whole world.

“I can’t.” Tommy threw a twenty on the bar and hauled his ass up. “I’m out.”

“Wait for me.” I settled our tab, tipping Daisy one hundred dollars for our four beers.

“Aw, Jack, you shouldn’t have.” Daisy didn’t sound like she meant it one bit.

“Stay safe.” I tilted my head in the direction of Alex Vejas. “Some of those rich girls know how to fight.”

“I can handle myself.” Daisy did not like to be reminded of the bad shit she did sometimes. She turned her back to me.

I followed my youngest brother out onto the deck. “What’s up with you? Why are we leaving so early?”

He scowled out at the water. “No reason.”

“Hey, you know what?”

“What?” Tommy sounded grumpy.

“M.B. would be lucky if she was your girlfriend.” I hadn’t meant to get deep, but here I was. “Seriously—if she isn’t giving you the time of day, find someone else. There are a lot of other girls who’d be happy to have a little Tommy in their lives.”

He snorted. “Like Tori Blaisdell? Or that tall blonde you can’t stop staring at?”

“It’s summer, buddy.” I winked at him. “The season of plenty. You can have your pick.”

He kicked a rock, then hopped up into the truck. “We’ll see about that.”

I hadn’t meant to wear my favorite T-shirt—the one that clung to my biceps—but it was clean. Once I put it on, it stayed.

Not for any reason. Certainly not for Blondie.

Tommy whistled when I met him at the truck. “Someone’s a try-hard.”

“Shut it, Tommy.”

He scowled at me as he hopped in. “Why’d you ask me to come on your date, anyway?”

“It’s not a date.” I put the truck into drive and headed down to the dock. We passed a bunch of tourists on a walking tour, wearing backpacks and ogling the… what? The island’s dirt roads and the one tiny church?

“Why do these fools come out here, anyway?” Tommy still sounded grumpy. “It’s not like this is Times Square.”

“Maybe that’s where they’re from,” I mused, “and they think this is wild.”

“Your new girl’s from New York.”

“She’s not my girl.”

Tommy shrugged. “Alex said she’s going to be some big-time lawyer or something. She has a job lined up.”