Page 42 of Sawyer

“Ha ha ha!” he chuckles, pounding me on the back again. “Listen, I’ll ask my man Connor to keep an eye out. If he finds out anything bad, I’ll let you know. You can decide what to do then…you know, if the situation arises.”

I have to find out for her. Even if I end up losing her for spying on her cheating asshole of a boyfriend without her permission, at least she’ll know the truth. At least she can back out of her engagement and find someone who will love her the way she deserves to be loved. And even if that’s not me, I’ll figure out a way to live with it. If she has a fighting chance at happiness, it’ll be worth it.

“Do it,” I say, hoping I’m making the right decision. “Ask Connor to follow him.”

Quinn takes out his phone, opens a text chat, types a few lines, then pockets the phone.

“Done.”

The bartender brings us two more beers, and again, I note Quinn’s interest in her ass.

“You gonna try to hit that later?” I ask him.

He turns to me, his expression serious when he answers my question with a question. “How’s Parker doing?”

“You’re not ogling the bartender’s assandasking about my sister in the same breath, Quinn. You’re bigger than me, and I might not be able to take you down, but I can still do some damage if you provoke me.”

“Speaking of asses, she’s a pain in the ass, your sister,” he grumbles.

“Tell me about it.”

“She doing good, though?” he asks.

“She’s fine,” I say, though my tone warns him not to ask about my sister again. “Tell me about Juneau. How much did you make this season?”

We talk about fishing and crab boats, big hauls, squalls, and the elusive golden king crabs. Quinn agrees to be in the play after a little cajoling. We drink beer after beer, and we don’t mention Ivy or Parker again.

***

Ivy

I can’t believe he had the temerity to ask me about my engagement to Clark.

“It’s none of his goddamned business!” I mutter, putting my key into the back door of my aunt and uncle’s house and stepping into the kitchen. “What does he know? He doesn’t know anything!”

“Who doesn’t know anything?”

The room is dark, which is why I didn’t notice Jenny sitting at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of ice cream, the dim glow of her phone the only light in the room.

“Jenny! It’s way past your bedtime.”

“Whatever.”

I grab another bowl for myself, take the ice cream out of the freezer, and dig out two scoops. When I sit down across from my cousin, I half expect her to get up in a huff and leave. I’m pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t.

She flips over her phone, leaving us facing each other in the dark.

“Can I ask you something?”

That’s the second time someone’s started a conversation like that tonight, and the first time didn’t go so well. But Jenny hasn’t been opening up to anyone lately, so I feel compelled to let her talk.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Do you think my mom’s going to die?”

“Oh, Jen,” I murmur. A spoon is halfway to my lips, but I lower it back to the bowl with a softclank. “No. No, I don’t think so.”

“It’s c-cancer,” chokes out my cousin. “That’s a death sentence.”

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