The Cousins(40)

“Okay, but…” I keep my fake smile firmly in place and take another tack, even though I know I’m losing him. “But couldn’t you suggest that she talk to us about what happened? Clear the air? Maybe she’d be healthier, and happier, if everything was out in the open.”



Donald regards me steadily. “Milly, will you take a word of advice from an old man?”

Definitely not. “Of course.”

“Leave the past where it is. You and your cousins seem wonderfully well-adjusted—which was not, to be frank, the case with your parents when they were your age. There’s nothing to be gained from reopening old wounds, and a lot to lose.” He smiles at me with what he probably thinks is grandfatherly charm. “Now, can I put in a call to my friend and confirm you and your cousins for the Agent Undeclared set?”

He’s obviously not going to tell me anything useful, but at least I get the satisfaction of watching his face drop when I say, “No.”



* * *



—

It’s hot and crowded at Dunes, and hard to carry on a conversation because the Asteroids are covering Journey at top volume. Chaz is in the shadows, on a stool toward the back of the stage. All I can see clearly are his jean-clad legs and the edge of his guitar.

“Milly! Question for you,” Brittany shouts into my ear above the music. We’re crowded around a small table with Efram, Aubrey, and a couple of other kids from the Towhee program. Behind us, Jonah is playing pool with an older guy I don’t recognize. Probably somebody from here, since the crowd at Dunes is much more townie than tourist. Efram snuck a flask of rum in and has been doctoring all of our Cokes, except for Aubrey’s. I’m at that pleasant, slightly buzzed point of the night where everyone around me seems more likable than usual, so I beam cheerfully at Brittany even though we don’t usually talk much.



She taps my arm, and I realize I owe her an answer. “What?” I yell back. The band wraps up their song and the crowd cheers loudly, shouting for more.

“Does your cousin have a girlfriend? He’s so cute.” I follow Brittany’s gaze to where Jonah is lining up a shot, dark brown hair flopping into one eye and the lean muscles in his arms flexing. Objectively, yes, that’s an attractive pose for him. And his face hits all the right notes: straight nose, full lips, square jaw. It still feels weird, and a little wrong, to notice that. Just like it did on the ferry, when I realized the hot guy on the staircase I’d been checking out was my cousin.

But now he’s not.

Jonah looks up and meets my eyes, then winks and flashes a wicked grin before taking his shot. My cheeks warm and I glance at Brittany, who’s looking between us with a confused expression. “You should go talk to him. He just winked at you,” I say.

“I don’t think he was—” Brittany starts.

I swirl the ice in my drink before finishing it. “You know what, I don’t actually know if Jonah has a girlfriend or not. We’re not particularly close, but I’ll find out. For you.”

The distinctive piano opening of “Don’t Stop Believin’?” rings out as I slide off my stool, and the crowd goes wild. Jonah is finishing the last of his rum and Coke, glaring at the cue ball like it betrayed him, when I nudge his arm with mine. “Don’t tell me you missed a shot,” I say.

The townie guy Jonah is playing against descends on the table, cue in hand. “Excuse me, small-town girl,” he says loudly as the lead singer of Chaz’s band screams the same lyrics behind us. I roll my eyes and step aside.



Jonah squints at me with a half smile. “I was distracted,” he says.

“Stop that,” I hiss.

“Stop what?”

“Flirting with me.”

“I’m not flirting with you.” Jonah props his pool cue against the wall and leans beside it with a lazy grin. The alcohol is obviously hitting him as hard as it is me, because I’ve never seen him this loose before. “You’re kind of full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“You winked at me!”

“That was a cousinly wink. The kind that says, Hey, cuz, hope you’re having a good time stalking our grandmother’s bartender. Not Hey, Milly, you look really pretty tonight.” He dips his head toward mine. “Even though you do.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I mutter, fighting off a smile. Damn it. I haven’t been interested in anyone for nearly a year, and I can’t start now. This summer is enough of a mess without adding that particular complication. “I’m going back to the table.”

“Don’t.” Jonah’s hands briefly circle my waist and he spins me to face the pool table as I studiously avoid whatever incredulous look Brittany must be sending our way. I can’t even blame her. “He already missed, so it’s my turn again. And you’re good luck.”

I should leave. This is beyond weird to the casual observer. But while I can handle asshole Jonah and imposter Jonah, I’m completely unprepared for this version. I stand rooted in place while the band plays on and Jonah circles the table like he owns it. He sinks four quick shots plus the eight ball, and just like that, the game is over. Jonah’s opponent puts his hands together in a praying motion, bowing in an exaggerated manner that, somehow, still seems kind of respectful. Then he extends his hand for a fist bump before melting back into the crowd. The band wraps up to loud applause, but instead of launching into their next song, they start conferring onstage.