Chapter Four
—JAMIE
The sun is shining as I step outside for the first time today.
I slip on my sunglasses and take a deep breath, letting the warmth of the day settle over me.
The breeze coming up from the beach is a mix of salty air and earthy wetness, tinged with sunscreen from the pool deck.
Not a terrible smell, but not exactly refreshing, either.
It’s nearly time for lunch, so my mother sent me on a mission to find my little sister, Astrid. While most twelve-year-olds around here are obsessed with celebrities, social media, or… horses, I know there’s only one place my sister would be: closest to the water.
Sure enough, I find her sitting on the edge of the resort pool.
She repeatedly dips her toes into the water, watching the ripples spread out and fade away.
She doesn’t notice me at first, her attention focused on the movement of the water.
It’s a change from her usual frantic energy—her bright red hair always in some chaotic state, her words constantly flowing faster than I can keep up with.
But right now, she’s lost in her thoughts.
“Hey,” I say, my voice soft so I don’t startle her.
Astrid glances over her shoulder and smiles, though it’s subdued. “You finally made it outside,” she says.
“Reluctantly,” I admit, crouching down beside her. I dip my fingers into the water, immediately pulling them back with a quick wince. “It’s freezing.”
She laughs, kicking her legs in the water to try to splash me. I back away, giving her a look that says Try me. She just smirks, like she’s already won. When I come beside her again, she tilts her face toward the sky and squints her eyes.
“Do you think it’s going to rain today?” she asks.
“Not sure,” I reply, looking around. “Sun seems pretty stubborn right now.”
“Too bad,” she says, sounding wistful. “I kind of like it when the beach gets all moody. It’s different, you know?”
I nod, considering her words. My sister has always had a different way of looking at things “Yeah, I get it. Sort of like it’s subverting expectations.”
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever that means,” she says. Her gaze drifts back to the water. “Do you want to swim with me?” she asks, hopeful. “You promised you would.”
I glance at the pool, then back at her. “In this?” I motion to the water, raising an eyebrow. “A little cold, don’t you think?”
Astrid shrugs nonchalantly. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Uh-huh,” I tell her. “You always say that, but I think you actually like swimming in cold water. Like an eel.”
“It’s not that bad,” she says, amused by my comment.
“We’ve been in worse.” She jumps up from the deck with a little bounce, splashing water over my sneakers.
“Remember that time we tried swimming in the freezing lake near Grandpa’s house?
” she asks, her grin widening. “You were crying about it so hard.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Because it felt like someone poured ice cubes in the water. But in case you forgot, I did go in. Eventually.”
“Exactly,” she says. “If you can survive that, you can survive swimming in a heated pool. Don’t be a baby.”
“This pool is definitely not heated,” I murmur, thinking for a moment. After a long pause, I smile at her. “Fine,” I say. “I’ll swim with you, but you’re going in first.”
Astrid is very pleased with herself. “Deal,” she says.
She goes to the edge of the pool, but before she dives in, Astrid looks back over her shoulder at me, her forehead furrowed. “Jamie,” she says, her voice softer. “Is Dad going to send you away again?”
Her words are a dagger to my heart, and I instinctively put my hand on my chest to protect myself. It takes me a moment to recover, but then I shake my head. Force a smile.
“Nope,” I say simply. “You’re stuck with me for a while.”
Her face softens, and I see the tension ease from her shoulders. For a split second, she looks like her usual self, the Astrid I know—bright and full of life.
As she jumps in, the weight of her question still lingers in the back of my mind, but I try not to let it ruin the moment.
I’m doing everything I’m supposed to; I’m being responsible.
I’m getting back on track, as my parents said.
At the same time… Astrid and I are already late for lunch, so what the hell. Might as well make the most of it.
“You want to race?” I ask my sister. “I bet I can beat you this time.”
Astrid’s eyes widen in mock disbelief. “You? Beat me?” She shakes her head like it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. “I hope you’re prepared to lose,” she says, waving me in.
“I’m about to embarrass you,” I call, then dive into the water without another word. The cold is a shock to my system, but it wakes me up instantly.
I hear Astrid laughing as she paddles after me, her splashes sending droplets everywhere.
For the next half hour, we’re childish and loud. People trickle out of the pool area, leaving us to our own chaos. It’s awesome. And for the first time in a long while, it feels like I’m home.
I sit at the glass table on the restaurant patio.
The clinking of utensils on ceramic plates breaks the otherwise tense silence of the meal.
From my seat, I can see part of the beach in the distance, littered with debris.
The ocean is still choppy with huge knits of algae floating along the waves.
I promised my sister I’d take her fishing this week, but no one is on the water today.
I’m sure the dock is closed after the storm. I wonder if the workers are down there right now, sitting at the edge of the dock and chatting like they used to. Singing and laughing, starting a bonfire that will go all night.
In comparison, I look around at the resort. Despite the damage on the beach, this place has an unsettling normalcy. Other than a few bent flower stems, nothing at all seems out of place. Except me, I guess.
Astrid’s hair is still wet as she sits wrapped in a pool towel.
Not exactly the impression my mother was hoping to make around the other esteemed guests.
Astrid picks at her chicken strips, darting looks between her food and me.
She’s always been able to tell when something’s off, even when no one else notices.
My mother occasionally glances in my direction with a soft look, like she’s urging me to talk.
I’m trying to get up the courage, but at the other end of the table, the formidable Brent Matthews sits with a heavy presence.
He’s eating a steak, a full slab of steak for lunch.
My mother nods in his direction, encouraging me again to start the conversation.
I try to gauge my father’s mood. He’s staring down at his meal, his face a mask of concentration as he saws into the meat. He looks like his thoughts are far away, but I know he’s always listening, always aware.
“Hey, Dad,” I say casually, testing the waters. “Have you heard anything lately about the Chasers? The locals,” I correct, not sure how familiar he is with the term.
His gaze rises to meet mine, curious. “Why do you ask?” he replies, setting down his fork and knife. He takes a sip of red wine.
I shrug. “A few guys were talking about them yesterday,” I say. “The rivalry seems to go pretty deep, but I don’t know why. I thought maybe you’d have the real story.”
I take a bite of my cheeseburger, and when I glance at my father again, he sniffs a laugh.
“Not much to say really,” he says, noncommittal.
“Some of those locals—Chasers,” he allows, “are probably decent people. But they’re not the sort you want to spend your time with.
What matters for you,” he continues, his expression growing more serious, “is the type of people you align yourself with. You want to be around those who are making real moves, people with money, people with power. Successful people.”
His comment irritates me, but I swallow it back for now. “So why do people at the resort hate them so much?” I ask, sure he’s avoiding the topic. “They said there was a murder.”
“Murder?” Astrid repeats loud enough that a couple from the table next to us looks in our direction.
“Astrid, please,” my mother says quietly, putting her hand over my sister’s to quiet her.
When I turn to my father again, his expression has darkened. He shakes his head slowly, and then laughs. “What the fuck are you doing, James?” he asks, still smiling.
My heart sinks into my gut. “Nothing,” I murmur. “I… I was just curious. Never mind.”
“Just stay focused on what’s in front of you,” my father says. “That’s what really counts.”
I’m embarrassed. My questions were valid, but he has a real talent for making me feel small. And still… I just keep trying with him. Why do I keep trying? And why the hell is he avoiding the topic of the Chasers?
My mom catches my eye then, a gentle request to leave it alone. Especially in public.
She smiles around at all of us. “Why don’t we talk about something else?” she offers to the table.
I try to focus on my food, but I’ve lost my appetite. I take a gulp of soda, and when I notice Astrid’s look of concern, I reach over and steal one of her chicken strips to get her attention. She grabs it back and eats it quickly.
“Brent,” my mother says to my father. “James has been considering applying for one of the internships at the company next year. I thought it would be a wonderful idea.”
Back in the spotlight, I straighten my posture.
My father looks up from his plate, his expression blank for a moment before he leans back in his chair, his hands steepled in front of him. “Internship?” he repeats, seeming confused. “But we don’t take high school dropouts.”
The words hit me like a slap. My chest tightens, and I feel a flush creep up my neck. His comment stings, not because it’s true, but because of how easy it is for him to say it. Like it’s a simple fact. Like I’m nothing more than a failure in his eyes.