Page 117 of These Summer Storms

She’d rather see Griffin drop-kicked into the Bay than resurrect their relationship. But it didn’t mean Jack had the right to insert himself into her business. “I should have had the chance to decide that.”

“Youdidhave a chance,” he said, clipped. “Your father gave you five years to take it.”

“And when he didn’t like my decision, instead of talking to me, instead of asking me to come home, instead of reaching out in any way, he sent you in to fix me.”Like I was broken.The thought rioted through her, leaving an ache deep within. “You’ve been pulling the strings of mylife since before I even knew you existed. My father, I expected. But you—I didn’t see you coming.”

Jack didn’t have anything to say.

She won, but it didn’t feel like it. She looked to Tony. “Tony?”

“Yes?”

“I know you don’t owe us anything…”

“No problem,” he replied. “I was leaving anyway. This helps.” Later, Alice would admire the emotion in the words. Grown-up. Nothing like the squeal Griffin let out when Tony grabbed the collar of his jacket and hauled him away.

She looked at Jack. “I don’t suppose I can get you to go, too.”

“Alice—”

“Don’t.” She looked to the sky, where the sun sank low in the west, setting the water aflame.

A trickle of mourners flowed toward the docks, ready to leave. It had happened—everyone had come and had their drinks and eaten their canapés and spoken in hushed tones about what a loss the world had suffered. And now they were going home to their lives, grateful that they weren’t the ones left on the island, changed forever.

It had happened, and Alice had missed it. Hadn’t she?

She was still changed forever, though.

She’d borne the brunt of her mother’s disdain. Watched helplessly as Greta sacrificed her happiness for this place. This family. And then discovered that her father had been the instrument of her heartache. Her father, and Jack.

A single thought ran through her head. “God, I want off this island.”

“We can do that,” Gabi said, waving toward Roxanne. “You can come with us.”

Emily was silent. Was that approval? Would she let Alice leave?

“Alice,” Jack called after her.

She stopped. Turned. He was coming for her, closing the distance between them, and she took a step back, not wanting him close. Not trusting him close. Her sisters—by blood and friendship—flanked her.

He froze. And the movement (or lack of it) reminded her of thenight on the train platform, when he’d seemed so decent. Not at all like the kind of man who would pay someone to break off their engagement.

“You deserve better,” he said.

“You mean someone who doesn’t lie to me?”

The muscle in his jaw flexed before he nodded, stiffly. “Bare minimum, yes.”

She turned and made her way into the dwindling crowd, full of condolences and farewells and promises that no one would keep (were there any other kinds?). Emily peeled away, and Roxanne and Gabi pointed in the direction of the docks themselves.

“We’ve got you,” Gabi said.

She shook her head. “If I go with you, they’ll see. They’ll stop me.”

Greta, who’d lost everything, and made it clear she wouldn’t stand for Alice leaving. Sam and Sila, who were willing to do anything to secure their bag. Elisabeth, who would have nothing left if she didn’t have the money—at least, nothing she considered to be of value.

“Alice,” Roxanne said, carefully. “If you stay, will you be safe?”

What did that word even mean in the context of this family?

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