Page 95 of South of The Skyway

“Yes, Mom, Ed is acquainted with the man living on site.”

“Right, right, of course. I’m not sure where my brain is at today. There’s so much to do—to see! Are you okay? How’s it been down here on your own? How’s Brexley?”

I straightened at my name, eyes flicking up to Rhyett’s as his smile broadened. “I’m good, just like I told you on the phone the last dozen times.” He snaked his arms away from an enthusiastic Juniper so that he could reach out and tug me in tighter. “Mom, this is Brexley Snows. Brex, baby, meet my mom, Juniper. And my dad, Milo.”

Milo was a striking silver fox, traces of dark hair still peppered through his impressive head of waves. He was a visceral cross between his boys—equal parts Rhyett and Jameson, with a hint of Maverick, like he’d only passed along pieces to each of them. He was the bestower of those steel blue eyes they all shared. I’d just noticed he had the dual cheek dimples Maverick boasted when he stepped forward, prompting me to accept his hand. Where I expected a shake, he pulled me in for a great big bear hug.

“Brexley, we’ve heard so much about you. So nice to finally meet in person.”

Extricating myself as politely as possible, I gave Rhyett a little clasp, hoping for some kind of reassurance. Jameson snickered behind me, and the weight of so many eyes made my skin heat.

“You’re from around here?” Juniper asked, leaning around Rhyett’s chest to see my face while he kept an arm around her, hand firmly clamped onto her shoulder like he was anchoring her in place. It took all my restraint not to laugh.

“Uh, yeah, I’m born and raised in Tampa.”

“Amazing! It always sounds wild until I realize my kids can say the same about the island. Different, somehow, knowing that they’re all over the place more often than not.”

“Hard to keep track,” Milo offered, leaning back against the counter as he slid his hands into his front pockets. Ed, clipboard still in hand, seized the momentary distraction as an escape route, shrugging his shoulders as if apologizing for abandoning me in my time of need. “They bounce around from place to place, always seeing new things.”

“You must be so proud of your kids,” I said, scrambling for something to say. “So many people are so afraid to venture out on their own that they stay in a five-block radius their whole lives.”

“Tragic statistic, that,” Milo agreed solemnly as Juniper raised her hand, bracelets clinking together as she threaded her fingers through Rhyett’s other hand.

“I’m not sure how people live that way, so cooped up all the time. I couldn’t do it. I love Mistyvale, although it’s too damn small to stay there your whole life.”

“But people do.”

“A coward dies a thousand deaths,” Rhyett said, the slant to his beautiful mouth telling me there was a family link here. When they all finished in unison, my eyes widened.

“But a hero dies only once.”

“What was that?” I asked, cautiously tiptoeing on the edge of the family line.

“Shakespeare, dear,” Juniper said, smiling. The woman was more like her son than Milo, I decided. Her constant smile, the flash of mischief in her green eyes.

“Cowards die many times before their deaths;The valiantnever taste of death but once.Technically, that’s what he wrote,” Elora corrected as she slid onto the newly installed white quartz counters beside her dad. “Something of a family motto.”

“Take chances, embrace justified risks, live big, and fail fast,” Milo said, as though by memory. My head was starting to swim with overwhelm. It seemed fake, this familiar, jovial connection between them all. What kind of family swapped Shakespeare quotes like casual trivia?

“Fail fast?” I asked.

“Failure is the lone inevitable thing other than death. Those at the top of any industry simply saw each perceived failure as a stepping stone, a lesson, to get them where they needed to go. We don’t treat it like public education does. We encourage it. Get in the game. Play hard. Give it all you got. If you’re going to fail, fail fast, and dust yourself off. Get steady on your feet. Repeat until victory.”

I narrowed my eyes, stifling the accompanying scoff. “Am I onPunk’d?”

A giggling Hadlee stood beside me, looping her arm under mine and tugging me back towards the hallway in a guided retreat. I knew I liked her. “Come on, I can show you my ideas for the study, and you can get out of this fiasco for a minute before they start singing.”

FORTY-THREE

RHYETT

The fire popped and skittered, Hadlee and Maverick’s laughter carrying over the quiet flicker of flames against the finished copper fire pit. They were playing a round of corn hole beside the deck, where the rest of us lounged. Dusk had long since settled, the low flicker of the patio lights illuminating the space and adding an addictive glow to Brexley’s eyes as she quietly observed the chaos.

“I love the lights. Great pick, Ace.”

“Mmm,” she purred, leaning back into my chest. “Thanks, I think they’re nice.”

“You’ve been exceptionally quiet this evening. You okay?” I hugged her tighter for emphasis. She had been lost in thought most of the night and entirely silent as we all watched some old-time movie with Audrey Hepburn in it.

---