Chapter 12
The Neelys lived at the edge of the marina inside a two-story, bright blue building. Administrative offices for the marina
were on the first floor, and their home was above it. I parked in one of the visitor spots and took a moment to wipe my face
and fix my makeup, wishing I didn’t smell like my uneaten sausage roll, which was currently dripping grease onto the front
seat.
Screwing up my courage, I headed around the side of the building, where a set of steps hugged the wall and ended on a little
deck. The Neelys’ front door was here, and when I stepped into the porch light, I heard muffled laughter and music inside.
I rang the doorbell.
You can do this . . . You must do this.
After a few moments, the door swung open and Jaz’s sister, Patty, blinked at me.
“Paige,” she said, smiling big. “This is a surprise. What are you doing here?”
I could’ve asked the same question of her. “Did you move back in, or something?”
Patty lived with her wife in a beach cottage about a mile down the coast from mine.
“Nah,” she said with a shake of her head. “Just a little family dinner. Come on in.”
I stepped inside a small foyer. Pale Scandinavian wood dominated from floor to ceiling, brightened by a patchwork of modern paintings, including one by Nana.
The Neelys weren’t rich by a long shot, not like Benny’s folks, but they were doing better than the rest of us, and it showed in their tasteful furnishings and marble-topped kitchen counters.
That’s where Patty was leading me, to the kitchen, where heavenly smells lingered and the upbeat tempo of snappy jazz that played over stereo speakers was punctuated by the clink of dishes and soft laughter.
Mr. Neely loaded the dishwasher. A big man in both size and reputation, he was one of the most respected marina managers around.
With his shaved head and massive beard, and being the approximate size of a quarterback, he could be mistaken for intimidating.
But Mr. Neely was the biggest teddy bear I’d ever known.
His wife sat across the kitchen island from him, sipping wine in a flowing house dress. Blond, tall, and curvy, Mrs. Neely
was a former opera singer from Norway who damaged her vocal cords when she was in her twenties. She came to the US to find
herself and ended up finding Mr. Neely instead. They were one of those rare couples who seemed to be utterly in love, no matter
how much time passed. Their lovey-dovey relationship used to embarrass me when I was a kid, but now it felt like a goal.
“Paige!” they said together with smiling faces.
Then Mr. Neely said, “Get your butt over here, young lady.” He held out his arms like Jazmine had a few days ago when I first
saw her on the beach with her class, and I didn’t hesitate to hug him. He smelled like dishwashing soap and smoke from the
grill, and all at once, I realized how much I’d missed the Neelys.
My eyes brimmed with emotion, and I nearly started crying. But Mrs. Neely signaled for me to come around the island to embrace her, too, gesturing with her arms.
“Come here, third daughter,” she said in a melodic voice that still held remnants of her first language. “Let me see you.”
“Hey, Mrs. Neely.” I hugged her from the side while she sat on her stool. The next thing I knew, they were both peppering
me with questions: How was I doing? Why hadn’t I come by sooner? Had I had dinner yet? Did the cottage really get broken into?
I answered the best I could and tried to keep my emotions in check, assuring them several times that I wasn’t hungry. “No,
seriously. I really just need to talk with Jaz, if she’s here.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Neely said, eyes pinched with concern.
“Jaz is in the den,” Patty told me, helping her father dry dishes. “You know the way . . .”
That, I did. Relieved to not have to answer any more questions, I left the Neelys in the kitchen and headed down the home’s
main artery, a long hallway lined with family photos. There were a few of me and Jaz over the years, including one at graduation
last year. And a photo that made my heart clench: all four Wags, sitting on a dock with paper pirate hats when we were eight.
Steeling myself, I headed into the den, where we would watch movies on their home projector when we were kids. The room was
empty, but I spotted movement outside a set of French doors. I took a moment to collect myself before stepping onto a wide
balcony that looked out onto the marina.
It was easy to get seduced by the view. The soft marina lights.
The lake to one side. Haven Beach lights to the other.
But my focus was on Jazmine, who was sitting cross-legged in a big deck chair with her sprained arm in its sling, scrolling on her phone with her free hand.
Her hair hung loose over her shoulders, creating a halo of curls around her face.
“Hey,” I said in low voice.
She didn’t look up. “Hey.”
Okay . . . After a few moments of awkward silence, I dared to take a seat in another chair and noticed her phone screen before she quickly
flipped it over on the arm of her chair.
She’d been texting with Benny.
“You’re not surprised to see me,” I said flatly. “Guessing that’s because of Lulu?” I assumed the girl got in touch with Benny
when I left Bean’s, and he’d texted Jaz to warn her.
Jaz sighed. “Yeah. Lulu.”
Another moment of quiet passed, then we both started talking at once.
“Paige, I don’t even know what to say—”
“Were you really seeing Pretty Paul?”
She blinked at me. “Yeah. But not anymore.”
It was true, then? My mouth hung open until I found my voice again.
“I don’t even know where to start, Jaz. Paul Vanderburg is the enemy. He fractured the Wags and took Seb away from us!”
“I know.”
“His father’s the biggest fentanyl dealer in western Michigan.”
“I know.”
“And Paul is his right-hand man!”
“I know.”
“Okay, then. You’re going to have to help me understand because those reasons alone should be enough to make any sane person
run in the opposite direction. He’s dangerous. He’s put more people in the hospital than I can count on my hand.”
“I know, I know, I know!” Her head fell, and she covered her face with her hand.
“Then why, Jaz? And why hide it from me, of all people?”
She lifted her head, upset. “Of course I’d hide it from you—for the exact reasons you just listed! Do you think I was looking for this to happen? He’s the last
person in town I’d consider hooking up with—”
“But you did.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Jesus, Jaz. How long has this been going on?”
It took a second to answer. “After you left for Cambridge, before the holidays. You won’t believe me, but it . . . it hasn’t
been easy, since you’ve been gone.”
“Me?”
She nodded. “After your nana died, you went straight to Harvard. It was like . . . I don’t know. I felt like you were still
in the middle of grieving, and I didn’t know how to help you from here, and before I knew it, you didn’t need me anymore.
I felt really alone.”
I tried to understand what she was telling me. “So you ran into Paul’s arms? Paul’s? Did you show up at one of his stupid bonfires, or something?”
“Trust me, I never intended any of this to happen. It started innocently. We were at the same party and ended up playing drunk
Jenga together—”
I lifted a brow.
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I guess I just saw another side of him that night, and maybe he saw another side of
me. He’s . . . not what he seems.”
“Does he secretly donate all his father’s drug profits to a charity for underprivileged kids?”
She sighed. “Look, I’m not excusing his past behavior, but . . . I don’t know. He’s had it rough? His father is a horror-story
villain, not even joking.”
“Yeah. Big Burg’s prepper compound is dangerous,” I agreed. “Anything could happen to you out there.”
“No, nothing can happen to me out there because Paul and I are no longer an item. I’ll never go back out there again. Never.”
“You don’t have to convince me. I’m not judging you.”
“Bullshit.”
She had a point. I was judging her. But only because I expected better! Right . . . ?
“I get it,” she said. “If I were in your shoes, I’d be judging you so hard right now. Paul ruined the Wags.”
“And nearly ruined Seb in the process!”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding slowly. “All of that’s true, and I felt like a Judas the entire time I was seeing him. But for a
while there, Paul was the only thing keeping me sane. This gap year? Huge mistake for me. I’ve done absolutely nothing this year, Paige. Nothing. Meantime, you lost Nana Malone and were still able to finish a year at Harvard.” One shoulder
lifted and fell. “I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. Am I waiting for something? Or trying to enjoy what little freedom
I have left before I start my life?”
“You could’ve let me help you figure that stuff out if you’d just talked to me.”
“And when should I have done that, Paige?” she said, a little fire behind her eyes. “Was I supposed to bitch and moan to you on a video call that I was feeling lost and lonely after you’ve broken down crying over Nana Malone?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. I was definitely preoccupied last fall; she wasn’t wrong about that. “So this is my fault
because Nana died?”
She made a frustrated noise. “Of course not. I’m not comparing what I’m dealing with to what you’ve been dealing with.”
“Good, because it’s not a competition,” I told her, trying to understand while feeling defensive about my own grief.
“I know that, but it still made it hard for me to communicate with you last fall because I didn’t want to burden you with
my petty shit. I was trying to spare your feelings.”
“It’s okay for best friends to burden each other,” I said, looking out through the balcony railing at a boat coming into the
marina with all its lights on. “Can you please just tell me what’s been going on with you?”
A long moment went by before she began explaining. “After you left for Harvard, it felt like the start of big changes, with