Josh
Out on the boat dock, he could still hear the guys up in the boathouse laughing and horsing around, making Noah’s night as they tried to figure out whodunnit.
Like them, he was relieved the only mystery left to solve was a fictional one. He just wished he had a solution to his own conundrum. If you could call the decision his cardiologist wanted him to make a conundrum.
He ran back over the phone call he’d received that morning. His test results had come back. The news hadn’t been good.
He needed surgery. And until then? No physical activity.
And if he rowed for the team in the Haverford Cup?
Heart attack. Possible death.
When his dad had found him before the race, he’d prayed, harder than he’d ever prayed before, that it would be a pep talk.
He should’ve known better. Regis men weren’t programmed that way.
His grandfather, his dad, and now Josh—they were all like Teagan had said.
Self-centered. They were manipulative, using people to get what they wanted. Something for themselves.
So he’d done what he had to do.
He dug into his tote and pulled out the pill bottle. Gave it a shake. Debated throwing it into the lake. Thought better of it.
If today had taught him anything, it was not to leave any evidence behind. He zipped up the bag, shouldered it, and headed back down the dock.
He’d never admit it, but Cam had been partly right today.
Josh was lucky.
Not as lucky as Cam thought, but today? Definitely.
Even if he knew deep down it was only a matter of time before his luck ran out.