Page 56 of Lucky Strike

His eyes flicker away before coming back, a sure sign he’s being secretive. “I need to take care of things here.”

“What, like work?” I prod, wanting him to be honest with me. “Can’t you take care of that from the beach?”

“I checked the security system’s log,” he says instead. “And you did set the alarm last night. At five thirty-six, right after Nola left for the day. But it was disarmed again around ten.”

My heart jolts. “I didn’t do that.”

“I know.” He stares grimly at his phone. “I asked Liam if he did, and he swore he didn’t. Said the door beeped when he went outside, but that’s it.”

“So, how?—"

“I don’t know. Could’ve been a glitch.” He shrugs a shoulder. “But it could’ve been something else.”

“Like what?” I ask, not liking where this is going.

“Something remote.”

Liam bouncesin his car seat, his cheeks rosy with excitement. “I love the beach, Bria,” he says, nibbling at his fruit snacks.

“Me, too.”

“We can stargaze at the beach.” He examines a strawberry-shaped gummy. “And make sandcastles and go swimming.”

“I love swimming!”

“Me, too!”

“Do you like collecting shells?”

He wrinkles his nose. “I like birds.”

“What kind of birds do you see at the beach?” I ask.

“Big, white ones. Grandpa says they’re gulls,” he says, chewing. “And little ones that go like this on the sand.” He wiggles his fingers, mimicking running.

“Do you ever see pterodactyls?”

He giggles heartily. “No, silly!”

We’re on our way to Cape Cod, where Conlan has a beach house. While I’m looking forward to the change of scenery, it’s hard to shake the anxiety clinging to me like a barnacle. Conlan sold this to Liam as another fun beach vacation, and I’m sure it will be, but that’s not all this is.

By two o’clock, we’re in Mashpee, a small town on the Cape’s southeast coast. Christoph brings us grocery shopping for essentials before dropping us off at the house, where Terry, Mitch, and the dogs greet us in the driveway. The guys are staying on the bottom floor, which I don’t mind. For one thing, Liam loves them and sees them like adult playmates, something Terry especially encourages with silly games and stories. But for another, they make me feel safe. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t want bodyguards, but I can’t argue with the necessity now that I know what the Kelly family is into.

Conlan offered to have Nola come, too, but I shot that down with a quickness.

“I can cook, you know. And clean up after myself.”

“Never said you couldn’t.” His eyes crinkled. “I just didn’t think you’d want to when you could hang out by the pool or at the beach instead.”

The vibe between us is different now that I know the truth. Less strained. I don’t want to get my hopes up, because I’ve gone down that road and it hurts when he switches up, but it’s nice. It’s in his eyes, his voice. He’s warmer. Friendlier.

Liam and I spend our first afternoon racing up and down the sandy stretch in front of the house, swimming and collecting shells while Shelby and Bacon chase crabs and birds. Later we try, with the help of Google, to figure out the names of those birds, watching as they swoop and skitter by. We eat dinner on the deck: grilled cheese sandwiches and fresh tomato soup, compliments of the Vermont cheddar, fresh sourdough, and heirloom tomatoes I got from the market. Liam’s not too sold on the soup, but Mitch goes back for thirds.

Conlan calls as I’m getting Liam into his pajamas.

“Is that my dad?” he asks through a yawn.

“Yep. You wanna answer it?”

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