Page 52 of South of The Skyway

“He on the water?”

“Just down in the harbor. They’re cleaning tanks today.”

“Good deal, good deal. Hey, look, Mom—”

“I’ve kept you too long. Oh, Rhy, I’m sorry!”

I chuckled, shaking my head as the espresso pod machine stopped blinking and started brewing. While I’d generally take the slimy aftertaste of a shot of wheatgrass over the bitter liquid, it was bound to be an all-hands-on-deck kind of week, and a triple shot with a generous pour of creamer was precisely what I needed. “No biggie, I just need to get some food in me before the contractor shows up, so I can get you here for Christmas.”

“Go! Go! I apologize for keeping you.”

“You’re fine, Mom,” I assured her, shaking my head. “I’ll report back soon, alright?”

“Okay, yes, great! Thank you again, Rhy.”

“Of course, ma.”

“Hey, Rhy?”

“Yeah?”

“You take care of yourself down there, okay?”

“Always.”

“Okay. Love you, son.”

“Love you too. Now go drag Mav out of bed and get him to work.” I loved the kid, but Maverick had a classic case of baby brother syndrome. There was always a rational justification that allowed him to shirk his fair share of household chores. With everyone but Alessandra out of the house, the six eldest had an intervention with our parents when we were all home last summer. Even Jeanne—who liked to babyeveryone—called bullshit on the fact that Milo was busy handling domestic duties on the rare occasion he was off the water. They’d put his feet to the fire in the seven months since, and I was all for it. Like hell would the youngest Rhodes tarnish our reputation as some of the hardest workers on the island.

Mom snickered. “Sure thing. Snowed six inches last night; I’ll have him shoveling before breakfast.”

“Good. Talk soon.” The machine finished right as the screen went to its wallpaper—a picture of my brothers and me crowded in for a tacky selfie on Mill Bay Beach back home. Despite our perpetual habit of reverting to boyhood antics when we were together, I missed the fuckers. Soon enough, we’d all be annoying each other senseless again.

A sip of the homemade Americano had me reaching for the cup of sugar on the counter. How anybody drank that shit black was beyond me. I’d just popped my bagel into the toaster when my phone lit up, buzzing as Brexley’s name marched onto the screen.

I blew out a breath, a lick of surprise teasing my chest. By the third ring, I’d palmed the device and brought it to my ear with a, “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Morning?” She attempted a laugh, but it was tinny and hollow. “Rhyett, it’s eleven. Tell me I didn’t just wake you.”

“Nah, I’m up. Been chatting with my mom. You sound serious, what’s wrong?”

“Why would you possibly assume something’s wrong? You barely know me.”

“Call it an instinct. Now you’re being evasive. What’s up?”

She took a long breath that sounded like a desperate reach to steady herself before answering. “Noel was in an accident.”

“Are you okay?” Fuck, if something happened to her…

“Yeah, I wasn’t with her.”

“And Noel?”

“She’s okay but a little banged up. I’m here at the hospital in Sarasota and need a ride home because my car wouldn’t start this morning. Vallie is out of state, and Josie has her kids out on the water. I can’t believe I’m ask—”

“Of course.” I was already off of the banquet bench, moving back to the bedroom in the gooseneck.

“What?” Her voice went wispy, like sheer fabric in the wind.

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