Do something, Barrie. For once don’t be useless.
“Eight, give me your phone,” she said, already reaching into his pocket to retrieve it.
He ignored her.
Wyatt didn’t. “I told you not to bring her here,” he snarled at Cassie. “Now she’s calling the police.”
“She won’t call anyone.” Frantically Cassie shook her head at Barrie.
“He hit you.” Barrie just about had the phone fished out.
Wyatt was chin-to-chin with Eight. He shifted toward Barrie, but Eight blocked him. Wyatt’s eyes darted between them, then slid to Cassie. “You fix this,” he barked. “You’re the one who made the mess.”
Cassie cast Barrie a pleading look. “Daddy didn’t mean to hit me, Barrie. I swear he didn’t. He’s not like that. But if you call the police, it will get bad for us.” She looked down at her hands. They looked pale against the brilliant gown, which suddenly looked theatrical and out of place. “Please. Daddy has to work. You don’t understand—”
“How’s she going to understand?” Wyatt curled his lip. “Look at her, standing there with her gold watch and her diamond necklace. Throwing it all up in our faces how much class she has, how she’s better than anybody else.”
All of Cassie’s color seemed to have bled into her dress, and Sydney looked like she wanted the river to sweep her away and drown her. Forcing a deep breath, Barrie dug for some semblance of calm. “I’m not throwing anything in anyone’s face. But if you’ll leave Cassie alone and let us go, I won’t call the police. I swear it. Eight promises too.”
“Watson promises don’t mean jack shit. And Beaufort promises mean even less.”
“Then what do you want from us?” Barrie was shaking again, shaking and desperate. “We can’t prove a negative. Cassie’s the one who got hit. If she doesn’t want me to call the police, I won’t. But don’t think I’m doing you any favors, because I don’t owe you a damn thing.” She tugged at Eight’s shirt, and when he didn’t budge, she spun around and strode away without looking back—her shoulders stiff with the effort. All she could do was hope he would follow.
She never should have come. She should have listened to Pru and Eight when they’d warned her. She should have— She paused, relief flooding through her as she heard Eight’s footsteps coming after her.
Fists balled, every muscle broadcasting his fury, he brushed right past her and didn’t slow.
Running to keep up, Barrie didn’t say anything until they were almost to the parking lot. When she looked back, Cassie had her hands wrapped around Wyatt’s arm, holding him anchored, talking fast. Sydney just looked miserable.
“Go ahead,” Barrie said to Eight. “Tell me you told me so. Get it over with.”
“Jesus.” He stopped walking. “You think I expected that?”
Barrie gave a shrug. “I don’t know. But I’ll give you a free ‘I told you so’ anyway. Last chance. Going once . . . Going twice . . .”
“I’m not an ass,” Eight said, grinning in spite of himself. “Well, okay, maybe I am. Some of the time—just not right this second. What the hell was with him?”
“Besides booze?”
“Not just booze. He was higher than a treed raccoon.”
“What does that mean? Drugs?”
Eight cocked an eyebrow at her. “You did lead a sheltered life, didn’t you, Bear? Yes, drugs. His pupils were as small as his brain.”
Pressure was swelling in Barrie’s chest. Stupid, stupid tears. Cassie had been nice to her, and so had Sydney. Barrie had wanted so much to be friends with them. And she hated the idea of her cousins having Wyatt for a father.
“No, hey. It’s all right.” Eight pulled her closer, winding his arm around her waist. She let her head drop against his shoulder as they followed the path through a clump of trees toward the parking area.
“I didn’t want to believe you,” Barrie said.
“On the bright side, it could have been worse.”
“What, he could have fed me to the alligators?” She blinked up at him. “But thank you.”
“For what?” He stopped and turned her to face him.
“For coming with me. For not saying ‘I told you so.’ For not being an ass. At least not right this minute.”
His hands slid down her arms until their fingers tangled together, his eyes bright on hers. Barrie’s heart went dizzy. The parking lot was empty, the tourists gone. The night was silent except for the rustle of the wind in the branches of the wooded path, the river’s distant whisper, and the ever-present insects. For a stolen instant they were the only two people in the whole wide world, and right then being safe with Eight was all Barrie wanted. They leaned against each other, not moving, not needing to move, until the slap and crunch of footsteps running on gravel made them turn to look.
Holding up the front of her hoopskirt, Cassie emerged from the trees, breathing hard. She stopped midstep, and her face flushed an angry red. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Sorry,” she said, not sounding like she meant it. “I wanted to apologize for Daddy. Honestly, he didn’t know what he was saying. He’s a mean drunk, and that’s not your fault.”
“You shouldn’t apologize for him,” Barrie said.
“Well, someone has to.” Cassie’s chin trembled. “You don’t know what it’s like feeling you’ll never amount to anything. Knowing the whole town thinks you’re not good enough. That’s what it’s like to be a Colesworth around here. That’s how Daddy’s felt all his life. Just give him time to cool off. He’s mad because he thinks you’re going to look down on us, on him, for not having a house like yours. And I guess he’s not really over losing Uncle Wade, but he’ll come around. He wants to get to know you and hear all about Lula, hear what she told you about Wade and all. He’ll cool off, and it will all be fine.”
“It won’t.” Eight pushed Barrie toward the car. “And you’re insane if you want Barrie to forget how he acted just now.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Cassie snapped. She turned back to Barrie, doe-eyed again. “All I want is for the two of us to be okay, Cos. You were right. We’re family. I can’t help what Daddy says. I can’t change him, but you matter to me. You don’t have to look for the treasure—”
“I don’t think whatever is down there is what you think it is anyway,” Barrie said. “It’s sentimental. Important but not necessarily valuable.”
Cassie’s jaw dropped, and it took her a second to gather herself. “You don’t think our valuables are sentimental? Our house used to be as nice as yours. The damn Yankees didn’t let anyone keep anything. Paintings, photographs, jewelry, keepsakes. History. Dignity. Civility. They took it all away. What’s buried down there could give us a little of that back.”
Barrie could have told her that things wouldn’t make Wyatt civil or dignified, but what was the point? She sighed and turned to go.
“No, wait.” Cassie’s tone shifted back to pleading. “I swear, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I didn’t come out here to talk to you about the treasure. I swear I won’t bring it up if you don’t want me to. It’s just that I hoped it could finally fix things for us. Just tell me we can still be friends.”
The longing on her face was so intense, Barrie couldn’t bear to see it. She knew what it was like to feel you were seen for where you came from instead of who you were.
People had always judged Mark. For being too gay, or not gay enough, or not transgender the way some expected. How many times had people presumed she would apologize for him being who he was? She had always refused. But she’d been able to walk away because those people hadn’t mattered. Those people weren’t family.
“Of course we’re still friends,” she told Cassie, trying to ignore the way Eight growled. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
Once they were in the car, Eight slammed the door and started up the engine. He was spectacularly mad driving out of Colesworth Place. Barrie almost wished he would go ahead and yell. Get it over with. He turned onto the main ro
ad with a squeal of tires.
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t kill us, if you don’t mind.” Barrie kept her voice nice and even.
“I’d prefer to strangle you, and I do mind. How can you fall for Cassie’s crap again? She doesn’t want to be friends with you.”
“Don’t you feel sorry for her at all?”
“She was the one who put you in that situation! And you should never have admitted you felt something lost on the property. Of course she’s going to ask you to try to find their fictional valuables again. She was lying when she said that wasn’t what she wanted.”
The Beaufort gift again.
What would it be like knowing whenever someone lied? Barrie decided she wouldn’t take that “gift” if someone served it up to her with a side of chocolate-hazelnut torte. How many times a day did people lie? Or twist the truth until it wasn’t recognizable anymore? How could you trust anyone, or even like them, if you always knew what was in their hearts?
When it came down to it, the only absolute truth was loyalty. Family. The people you chose to stick by no matter what.
“I’m not going to blame Cassie for a situation beyond her control,” Barrie said. “Don’t worry, though. I’m not going to let her push me into anything.”
“How has that worked out for you so far?”
“About as well as minding your own business has worked for you.” Barrie bit her lip as soon as the words were out, but it was too late to call them back. And maybe she didn’t want to. The whole night had left her in the mood for a good argument, no holds barred.
Eight shot over the bridge and turned in the opposite direction from Watson’s Landing.
“Home is to the right, in case you’ve forgotten, baseball guy.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need your Watson senses to tell me that.”
“I see you’re back to being a jackass. Are you going to turn around?”
“Since I’m being a jackass, no. I’m not.”
“Fine.” Barrie flounced back against her seat.
“Fine.”
The car sped up. Eight was still accelerating as they barreled through town, and Barrie half-expected to see flashing lights appear in her side mirror.
“Do you mind at least telling me where we’re going?” she asked.
They passed the entrance to Bobby Joe’s parking lot. “We’re going to go forget about Cassie and Wyatt. Screw them if they don’t like you for you.”
He sounded like Mark.
Drained by the aftereffects of anger and adrenaline, Barrie found herself breathing in Eight’s recklessness, swept up in it, and suddenly it didn’t matter where they were going or what he planned to do. His moods were contagious, dangerous to her equilibrium.
He stopped at the beach, the same beach where they’d seen the turtle nest. Neither of them said a word while Eight retrieved a musty-smelling towel from his trunk and caught Barrie’s hand, lacing their fingers like they were made to fit.
They ran barefoot over the dunes and through a break in the pickets that held back the sea oats. The moon turned the white sand to diamond dust, and Eight laid the towel down above the high-tide marker of shells and seaweed and damp, dark sand. He sat down and drew her against him, her back against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, and she leaned into the solidness of him. His heartbeat washed through her like the waves, until she didn’t know whether the pounding of it was hers or his.
When she sighed and relaxed, he eased her down and leaned over and finally kissed her until she felt like she was going to fall. She reached for him, kissing him more deeply. His lips were scalding on hers, leaving her tingling and whole instead of so, so alone. She wanted the feeling, the moment, to never stop.
Only when she came up for air did the word “love” enter her thoughts. She pushed it away, but maybe by the time any girl thought about protecting herself, keeping herself from falling for a guy who was going to leave her brokenhearted, it was already too late. Maybe it had been like that for Lula with Wade, and instead of being Prince Charming, Wade had turned out to be like Wyatt.
“Why do you suppose my mother was afraid of Wyatt?” Barrie rolled and rested on one elbow to look at Eight.
“Apart from what we saw tonight, you mean?”
“I assumed it was about the feud. Because she was a Watson and she’d run off with Wyatt’s brother. But it felt more personal.”
“Feuds are always personal. That’s what makes it hard to break the cycle. Everyone lives locked inside their own anger until someone is finally brave enough to step outside themselves to see the view from the other side. It’s why I need to get away from this place.”
“But you’re not stepping out for a different view.” Barrie tipped her face up to the stars so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “You’re stepping out to run away.”
He was silent, and she was suddenly afraid. Afraid that she had said too much, presumed too much, hoped too much. She rolled her capris as high as they would go, then ran toward the water. She didn’t look back until she was knee deep, which was as far as she dared. He was right behind her, his face gleaming in the kind of light that turned beautiful boys into gods. He caught her, and held her, his skin so warm and alive, she couldn’t help but melt.
“Why did you run?” he asked.
“To see if you’d come after me.”
“It scares me how willing I am to run after you. We’re both doing too much running.”
“So kiss me again.”
Her hands crept around his neck, tangling in his hair to keep him closer, even though she knew that beautiful boys with expiration dates couldn’t be held, only borrowed for a time.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The gate at Watson’s Landing was open its usual inch when Eight pulled up. He hit the brake and slammed the gearshift into park. “Your aunt needs to stop doing that. It’s the middle of the night.”
“What is Pru supposed to do if she can’t get to the phone?” Barrie asked. “She’s probably gone to bed and wanted to be sure I could get back in. Also? Stop nagging. I don’t want to spoil the mood with an argument.”
Shadows spilled through the iron bars onto the roadway, swirling around Eight as he did his usual shuffle with the gate and the car. In the flickering light of the gas sconces on the posts, it was hard to tell if they were real shadows or yunwi. Barrie still felt like she had stars in her eyes that made it hard to see, and as they passed through the gate, the relief of coming back to Watson’s Landing was like ten pounds of weight had lifted from her.
Eight shut his door and put the car back into gear. “You know, if we argue, we could make up.” He shot her a grin steeped in mischief. “Especially if your aunt’s gone to sleep.”
“I don’t know if she has. I hope she isn’t waiting up for me,” Barrie said with a pang of guilt.
It had been selfish to leave, especially since she knew her aunt would worry. It was funny: Barrie had spent so much of her life trying to keep her mother from panicking at the thought of being left alone, but it was Pru who’d never had anyone. And Pru would be alone again when Barrie left for art school next year. If she left. Did Pru feel as anxious about that as Barrie felt about Eight leaving?
Barrie stared out the window, watching the gleam of the river from between the live oak trees. All her life she had drifted around on currents of other people’s making. She didn’t want to be a drifter. She ought to be more like Cassie, who, right or wrong, made life happen. Cassie went after what she wanted. Eight did too. He seemed to navigate all his decisions as easily as he guided the car to a stop in the circular drive beneath the white-columned portico.
“You’re dangerous when you get quiet.” Eight walked her to the door. “What do you have brewing in that head of yours?”
“Like you don’t already know.”
“The head and the heart are different.”
“Sure they are. Good night, baseball guy.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Why do you f
eel like you have to fix everyone’s problems, Bear?”
“I’m not fixing anything for you.”
“Pru will love you even if you leave. People are going to like you even if you don’t try so hard.”
“You think that’s what I’m doing?”
“Isn’t it?”
“Must be nice to be you. Always having all the answers.” Easy to make people love you when you could give them exactly what they needed, what they wanted so deep in their hearts that they didn’t even know it themselves.
Was that what he was doing with her? How much of what she felt for him was genuine, and how much was he using his gift to make her like him?
She was going around in circles, and it was enough to make her crazy.
“Aaaand she’s mad again.” Eight stepped back and tipped her face up to look at him. “Now what did I do?”
She turned her head away. “Do me a favor? Teach me how to drive a car?”
He studied her and pushed his hands into his pockets. “Driving won’t give you control of your life, you know. It may seem that way.”
“It’s a start.”
“Anyway, how do you not know how to drive? Didn’t you need a car in San Francisco?”
“The things I don’t know would amaze you.”
“So make a list. We’ll do them all.”
How was it possible to feel so much for him already? Barrie had only known him a few breaths in the comparative span of a life. It had to be the Beaufort gift. Grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt, she pulled him closer and rose onto her toes to kiss him. Because kissing Eight was the kind of magic she liked. As long as his lips were on hers, as long as they shared breath between them, most of her worries, her question marks, disappeared.
Until he pulled away again.
“When do you actually leave?” she asked. “The exact date.”
“You’re adorable when you’re mad.”
“I’m not mad, and that is one of the cheesiest lines ever invented by stupid boys.”
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