Page 67 of The Romance Game

I flip through a few more pages and the same handwriting continues until one page where the ink must’ve run and the words blur. Scooting closer to Ryan, I show him.

“A few of the words are splattered, like whoever wrote it was crying.” I glance up at Ryan. “Or whoever read it was crying.”

“Chip wasn’t an emotional kind of guy.”

“No, but it could’ve been someone else. Does this look likeChip’s handwriting?”

“Not really.”

“We could compare it to the letter in the envelope.”

Ryan exhales again.

“We don’t have to do this,” I say.

“Sorry. I want to. I’d just have preferred my grandfather had made things clearer. Like when Coach Becker outlines a play, I know exactly what I need to do.”

“If I were to look at the Miami Riptide playbook, it wouldn’t make sense to me. But you see it differently. Maybe this made sense to your brother and will become clearer to you.”

Ryan’s shoulders relax and his gaze hovers on mine. “And this is why you are a-glazing.” He opens the seal on the envelope. Wearing a hopeful smile, Ryan pulls out the paper inside. He turns it over and then turns it over again. “It’s blank. What the heck, Chip?”

“Maybe there are some other documents at the resort we can compare it to.” I turn a few more pages in the journal and reach one that’s blank even though I’m only halfway through.

Ryan frowns and turns to the next page and stabs it with his finger. “That is Chip’s handwriting. Now that I see it, I’d know it anywhere.”

“And it’s fairly legible. But that begs the question, who wrote the first half?”

Ryan shakes his head and then goes still as something catches his eye. “He wrote about my mom and dad. This is the day they were in the boating accident.” His finger shakes as he points at the date.

I start to close the diary.

“No, I have to know what he said.” But he doesn’t read it.

Instead, I do. “It’s going to crush the boys. I don’t know how I’ll manage. How they will. They’re still young. Colin and Emmanuella knew the risks, but I should’ve stopped them. Put an end to all this nonsense. And yet—” I’m not sure what the next bit says. “The co, uh, coro?”

Ryan looks over my shoulder. “TheCoroa de Lágrimas.The Lost Crown of Tears.”

I read, “‘None of us could stop looking for it and I’m afraid it’s cursed us.’”

He runs his hand through his hair. “Does that mean they were looking for it too? Has CJ been right all along?”

“Of course, I have.”

We both whip around. Seated at the kitchen island, he tosses a handful of Luke’s Cheerios in his mouth.

“You’re like a ninja. How did you come in and we didn’t hear you?” Ryan says.

“Concerning, considering there’s a baby asleep upstairs.” CJ slugs some orange juice.

“We’re buying a house with full security. I’ll start looking tomorrow.” Ryan’s jaw ticks like he failed to protect us.

“Don’t worry. It’s just your little brother spying on us. Nothing new there.”

“Har har. I wasn’t spying, love birds. But I’m glad you finally opened Chip’s diary. Anything juicy?”

“Ew. No. I mean, we don’t know. Can’t read most of it. Want to take a crack at Brazilian?”

CJ picks up the diary with surprising care as if it’s a relic. He stares at the first page.

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