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  “Sorry to keep doing this to you, Nik. It’s not intentional. I swear.”

  “Oh, stop. I know that. Shit happens.”

  “It happens far too often to me.”

  “You’ve had a rough few months. It’s going to get better from here. I know it.”

  “I’ve had a rough few years, and the hits keep on coming with a visit from my old friend asthma.”

  “That was caused by smoke inhalation. The asthma is not back.”

  “You sound awfully sure of that.”

  “Think about it, J. You haven’t had an attack in more than seven years. You only had one because you were breathing smoke.”

  “I know, but I’m anxious about it anyway.”

  “Totally understandable. Riley is going to pick up your new inhaler at the pharmacy, and you’ll just keep that with you in case you need it. But you won’t.”

  “Nik.”

  Nikki stopped straightening Jordan’s room and turned to look at her, brow raised in inquiry.

  Jordan patted the other side of her bed. “Come here.”

  Nikki sat on the edge of the bed.

  “All the way.”

  Huffing with pretend annoyance, Nikki stretched out next to Jordan. “I’m here. What do you want?”

  “I want you to stop folding my clothes and freaking out.”

  “I’m not freaking out.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Jordan raised a brow the way Nikki had done to her.

  “Okay, maybe a little,” Nikki said with a sigh, “but it’s not about me. It’s about you and making sure you feel better and have your meds and—”

  Jordan gently placed her hand over Nikki’s mouth. “It is about you, because I know how much what happens to me affects you, too.” She removed her hand. “And you want to know how I know that? Because everything you do affects me. That’s how we roll, and I’m painfully aware that my shit has been giving you way too much to worry about lately. That’s going to stop. I promise.”

  “You’re being way too hard on yourself. You had no way to know the chimney was going to catch on fire and give you an asthma attack. That’s not your fault.”

  “Maybe not, but some of the rest of it could’ve been avoided if I’d listened to you.”

  “We can’t rewrite the past. It’s done. All we can do is move forward.”

  “I know, and it’s time for me to figure out my shit and stop giving you constant reason to worry about me. You and Riley didn’t even get one night on the mainland without me screwing it up.”

  “Are you spoiling for a fight about what’s within your control and what isn’t?”

  “Not at all. I just feel really, really bad that your night away got screwed up and that you were in a panic about me—again.”

  “Well, you can stop feeling bad, because Riley and I have every night together, and it doesn’t matter where we are. Every night with him is a good night. And I’ll always panic when you’re hurt or sick or anything other than perfectly fine. That’s just how I’m wired.”

  “I want off this merry-go-round I’ve been on for far too long.”

  “You were feeling much better before the fire, and we’ll get you back to that point again. You just need to rest and give your body the chance to recover.”

  “I’ll pay for anything that needs to be replaced, as well as any damage.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I will worry about it. I’m paying to fix it.”

  “Fine, whatever.”

  “By the way, what’re you up to inviting Mason to dinner?”

  “Just what I said. I want to thank him for saving you.”

  “And that’s all you want?”

  Nikki’s brows furrowed into a confused expression. “Um, kinda engaged to Riley and wicked happy about that. Not sure what you’re getting at.”

  “I’m wondering if you might be playing matchmaker, so quit being obtuse.”

  “The thought never entered my mind.”

  Jordan cracked up laughing. “You are the worst liar ever. Why do you even try?”

  Nikki scowled at her. “Okay, it might’ve crossed my mind for a second, especially since he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you the whole time we were talking to him. But I mostly invited him because I do want to thank him for saving you. Although, at the moment, I can’t recall exactly why I was so thankful about that.”

  Jordan poked her in the ribs. “You love me. And he was not looking at me. We were talking.”

  “He was looking. Trust me.”

  Jordan wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “We had a good time last night, all things considered, but he was just being nice. He stuck around because I was alone at the clinic until you guys got there.”

  Nikki propped herself up on her elbows. “Think about what you just said. The fire chief of all of Gansett Island hung out for hours at the clinic because you were alone.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “How can you be so dumb sometimes and smart as a whip other times?”

  “How am I being dumb?”

  “The man likes you, Jordan. Why else would he have volunteered to be the one to keep you company at the clinic when he probably had a million things to do after a fire on the island?”

  Jordan thought about that and couldn’t come up with anything better than, “He was being nice, Nikki. Don’t make it into something more than that.” But there’d been that moment when she’d realized his lips were on hers, sending air into her lungs and electrifying the rest of her. Silliest thing ever, when it came right down to it. He’d probably done that a hundred times before, so it was ridiculous to make anything of something so foolish. He’d been saving her life, not coming on to her.

  “I’m going to invite Finn and Chloe to come to dinner. Is that okay with you?”

  “Of course. I love them. You know I do. Invite Kevin and Chelsea, too, if you want to. Make it a party.”

  “I haven’t seen baby Summer in three days,” Nikki said. “I’m going through withdrawals.”

  “We can’t have that.”

  “You’re really okay, J? You swear?”

  “Swear to God, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” Jordan called on the saying they’d used as kids when a situation called for the big guns. As children caught between feuding parents, they’d often needed the big guns.

  “Call me or text if you need anything. I’ll be downstairs.” Nikki leaned over to kiss Jordan’s forehead and got up off the bed. “Get some rest.”

  “Hey, Nik?”

  She turned back. “Yeah?”

  “Love you bestest.”

  “Love you bestest, too.” Nikki smiled and left the room, closing the door behind her as she went.

  Nikki had given her their standard reply, but Jordan knew it was no longer true. Nikki loved Riley bestest now, and that was how it ought to be. As she closed her eyes and tried to quiet her mind so she could get some sleep, Jordan wondered if she would ever love anyone the way Nik loved Riley.

  * * *

  Mason was late for the budget meeting with Mayor Upton, who was a stickler for punctuality.

  The mayor’s admin, Mona, greeted Mason with a friendly smile. “Go ahead in. Chief Taylor only arrived a minute ago, so don’t worry.”

  “Thanks, Mona. You’re the bomb dot-com.”

  She glowed with pleasure at the compliment.

  He tried to think of a new way to compliment her every time he saw her, because she was, indeed, the best. The mayor, on the other hand…

  When Mason walked into the office, Chet Upton was off on one of his favorite tangents—the length of Police Chief Blaine Taylor’s hair. “You’re setting a terrible example for the people who work for you with that hair.”

  “My wife likes it,” Blaine said, nonplussed by the mayor’s outrage. He sat with his booted feet on the mayor’s conference table, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, when he had far more
cares this time of year than even Mason had. “It’s staying.”

  “Now listen here,” Upton sputtered.

  “Nope. I listened to you, now you can listen to me. I work ninety hours a week for three months straight without so much as a day off. If you’re unhappy with my job performance, feel free to let me know. But my hair is off-limits. I thought we were here to discuss the budget anyway?”

  Mason somehow managed to hold in the laugh that was busting to get out as he took his usual seat at the conference table across from Blaine. He loved the hell out of Blaine Taylor, who was a great colleague and friend. Mason thoroughly enjoyed the way Blaine refused to take Upton’s shit.

  He and Blaine busted their ass for the island and its residents, a fact that Upton never quite seemed to realize.

  Upton did a double take when he saw the bandage on Mason’s forehead and his arm in a sling. “What happened to you?”

  “I crashed my bike.”

  “Oh.” The mayor seemed relieved to hear the injury wasn’t work-related, because that would’ve meant extra paperwork for him. “Is it broken?” His wary expression conveyed concern, but only for the possibility that Mason might have to be out of work—God forbid.

  “Dislocated.”

  Blaine winced. “Ouch.”

  “Thank goodness that’s all it is,” Upton said.

  “I’m fine,” Mason said. “Thanks for your concern.”

  Blaine sputtered with laughter as Upton looked at the two of them like they were insane. He was often oblivious to the ways they insulted him to his face, which was a constant source of entertainment to the two men.

  “Good of you to join us.” Upton frowned, probably realizing they were busting his balls even if he didn’t get the joke. “The meeting started ten minutes ago.”

  “I’m aware of that. I was out at Eastward Look, where my department saved a house from burning to the ground last night.”

  “And Mason saved one of the residents from certain death by running into the house and bringing her out—while his elbow was dislocated.” Blaine glanced at Mason. “Well done, by the way.”

  “Thanks,” Mason said, embarrassed by his colleague’s praise.

  “Yes, good job,” Upton said, almost reluctantly.

  Blaine rolled his eyes at Mason, who again tried not to laugh.

  “Now, about the budget.” Upton handed each of them a packet that had been stapled in the corner. “Both your departments are already trending to be over budget on overtime, and it’s only June.”

  They had this same discussion every year around this time when the season kicked into high gear and took the overtime budget with it as the summer shit hit the fan.

  As always, Blaine and Mason didn’t reply. They’d learned to let Upton have his say about the overtime and not interrupt the tirade. If they didn’t debate, but rather let him think he was reading them the riot act, they got out of there quicker.

  Thirty minutes later, after being thoroughly chastised by the mayor, the two men emerged into bright sunshine and a cool breeze blowing in off the ocean.

  “We again survived the midyear budget meeting,” Blaine said. “This calls for a celebration. Lunch is on me.”

  “Yes, please. Lead the way.”

  “Let’s go to the Wayfarer.”

  They walked from town hall down the hill to the newly renovated shore-dining-hall-style beachfront restaurant, bar and hotel that the McCarthy family had brought back to life.

  “We’ll take a table outside,” Blaine said to the young woman working the hostess stand.

  “Right this way.”

  They followed her through the sparsely populated interior to the back deck, where nearly every table was taken. On weekends, the place was overrun with day-trippers and tourists who came to party. Mason and Blaine had worked closely with the McCarthy family and Nikki, the Wayfarer manager, to discuss crowd control and other concerns as the Wayfarer reopened for business after being closed and abandoned for years.

  “Thank God they hired their own security for this place,” Blaine said when they were seated at a table with an unobstructed view of the ocean. On the way to their table, they waved to a few people they knew from town. The whole place had perked up at the sight of the two men in uniform.

  A navy-blue-and-white-striped umbrella kept the sun off them while they perused the menu. The waitress, a young woman named Carly, came to their table. Her name tag indicated she was from Mystic, Connecticut. “Welcome to the Wayfarer. Have you been here before?”

  “Yes, we have,” Blaine replied. “I’ll have the turkey club and soda water with a lemon, please.”

  “Since he’s paying, I’ll do a cup of chowder and a grilled chicken sandwich, hold the fries.”

  “Coming right up,” Carly said as she took off to put in their order.

  “What’re you holding the fries for? That’s the best part.”

  “Gonna be off the workout circuit for a week or so.”

  “Honestly, Mason, you don’t have an extra pound on you, and you work out more than anyone I know. Have the fries.”

  “I’ll have a couple of yours.”

  “Like hell you will.”

  Mason laughed. “How about Upton? What a windbag.”

  “Right? At least he’s predictable. We can deal with him. They say the devil you know is always better than the one you don’t know.”

  “True. So when are you getting your hair cut?” Mason asked, smiling.

  “When I fucking feel like it, but it’ll be at least three weeks longer than it would’ve been if he hadn’t mentioned it.”

  “What I don’t get is why he can’t see that every time he comes at you about it, you just dig in deeper.”

  “Because he’s an idiot. But that’s why we love him. He leaves us alone most of the time, which is key. Since he can’t find anything else to bust my balls about, he comes at my hair and my overtime budget, even though I budget for overtime.”

  “I actually followed that logic.”

  “Well, it’s true,” Blaine said, laughing. “We both budget for overtime, we rarely go over budget, and he still has to go off on us every year in June like clockwork.”

  “He probably sees it as his way of ensuring we’re keeping an eye on it, which we are.”

  “Eh, whatever,” Blaine said, waving a hand. “He’s gotten enough of my mental energy for today. So what happened last night?”

  “From what we can tell, sparks from the fire pit at the house next door ignited the roof at the Hopper place and then somehow ignited the creosote that had built up in the chimney.”

  “Can that even happen?” Blaine seemed as surprised as Mason and his team had been when they put the pieces together.

  “Normally, no. But the wind was pretty strong last night, so that changes the game.”

  “I guess so. I heard you got Nikki’s sister out of there in the nick of time.”

  “I’m glad I saw the flames and smoke.”

  “So how did you bang yourself up?”

  “I crashed my bike after seeing the flames and getting distracted on a jump out at the bluffs.”

  “Jeez, Mason. You’re lucky you didn’t land on your head and break your neck.”

  “I know. I haven’t crashed like that since I was a kid jumping ramps on my BMX.”

  Blaine laughed. “Ah, yes, the BMX Olympics. My brother and I did some of the craziest shit on those bikes. We should probably be dead.”

  “Right there with you. We had this neighbor with a pool.”

  “Oh God, you did not.”

  “We did! We set up this elaborate jump over a picket fence into the shallow end of the pool.”

  “Please tell me there’s video of that.”

  “Somewhere, I’m sure.”

  “Did anyone ever miss?”

  “We all did at one point, but this one kid ended up on the picket fence.”

  Blaine winced. “No.”

  “Yep, right between the legs.”


  “I can’t.” Blaine covered his ears. “Stop. I’ll have nightmares.”

  Mac McCarthy approached their table, but didn’t seem to see them until Blaine, his brother-in-law, called out to him. “Oh, hey, you guys. What’s up?”

  “Not much,” Blaine said. “Want to join us?”

  “Wish I could, but I’ve got to keep moving. I came over to check a few repairs that need to be made here, and I’ve got to get back to the Curtis house. We’re taking the roof off today.”

  Mason didn’t know Mac as well as Blaine did, but even he could see the guy looked troubled. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, just busy as hell, per usual this time of year.” In addition to his construction business, Mac also helped to run his family’s marina in North Harbor. “Rain check on lunch?”

  “You got it,” Blaine said. “See you later.”

  “Take it easy.”

  “He seems tense,” Mason said.

  “Yeah, everyone is worried about him after he collapsed in the clinic. They said it was a major anxiety attack brought on by Maddie’s pregnancy with the twins and staring down his busy season. He’s supposed to be chilling out, but it doesn’t look like he is. I'm going to text Tiffany to see if we can have them over for dinner to give them a break.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  A second later, his phone beeped with a reply. “She said let’s do it at their place so Maddie doesn’t have to go out. She’s supposed to be mostly on bed rest until the twins arrive in September.”

  Mason grimaced at the thought of being inactive that long. He’d go mad. “Even better. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

  Ned Saunders, the island’s resident land baron-taxi cab driver, stopped by to say hello. “Heard ya made a helluva rescue out at the Hopper place last night.”

  “I was glad to be in the right place at the right time.”

  “Very well done. The grandmother’s good people. The sister, too. Sure they appreciate what ya did.”

  “Just doing my job.”

  Ned put his hand on Mason’s shoulder. “Whatcha do means a lot ta us. Doncha ever think otherwise.”