scent of salt air and da

ad th

beach house, the morni

unce of my Vanderbilt leverage, every unspoken debt

mmered agai

bi

eal. I w

terness, of that final, horrifyin

Probably nursing a hangove

do it again.

would be free.

ocean. He looked young, haunted, the Ethan before our disas

expression wary, expecting an

, my voice surp

uarded. "If this is

and," I cu

cing the defensiveness in h

as overwrought. The storm, everything. It was a m

at me, s

ds tasting like ash, but also like a str

see the relief that would surely flood his face,

or Vance had offered, the one I' d foolishly decline

I would cho