The Cousins(48)

I’ve barely opened the door a crack when someone pushes it all the way open. Not Reid.

“Have you seen this?” Milly demands, shoving her phone at me.

“Good morning to you, too,” I grumble, but my mood lifts a notch at the sight of her. I grab a T-shirt off the back of my chair, and Milly’s cheeks color as she registers that I’m only wearing boxer shorts. Serves her right for barging in at the ungodly hour of—okay, ten-thirty. Maybe I should’ve been up by now. “Where’s Aubrey?” I don’t usually see one of them without the other.



“Lifeguarding,” Milly says. She looks great like always in a lacy white top, tan shorts, and complicated sandals with lots of straps. When my head emerges from my T-shirt neck, her eyes are trained on a spot over my shoulder as she continues to hold out her phone. “Uncle Archer was right; he messed up by playing that song. The Gull Cove Gazette is at it again.”

“At what again?” I take her phone and angle the screen so I can read it. My heart sinks as soon as I see the headline at the top of the Lifestyle section.

THE STORY CONTINUES: HAS ESTRANGED SON ARCHER BEEN HIDING IN PLAIN SIGHT?

“Well, shit,” I say, scanning the article. It’s all about how “various sources” spotted a man resembling Archer Story perform at Dunes last night. “How is this news? And did people really figure him out just because he sang a freaking Toto song?”

Milly sighs. “This is Gull Cove Island, remember? People are obsessed with the Storys.”

“I better let JT know,” I say. “I was going to keep quiet till Archer had a chance to talk to Mildred, but now that it’s out…” I send the link to myself and give Milly back her phone. Then I pick mine up from the bed and forward the article to JT with a text telling him to call me. “Do you think he’s read it?”

“JT?” Milly asks doubtfully.

“No. Archer.”

“I don’t know.” She chews on the knuckle of her thumb. “I’ve called and messaged him a bunch of times this morning, but he hasn’t answered.”

“It’s early. He’s probably still asleep,” I say, then worry that it sounds like I really mean “passed out,” so I add, “I wouldn’t be up either if you hadn’t knocked.”



“Yeah, but I thought…I don’t know. I thought he’d want to talk to us again as soon as possible,” Milly says. Her shoulders slump, and I get that weird, tight feeling in my chest that happens any time Milly looks sad.

“We’ll hear from him soon.” I say it with more confidence than I feel, because there’s a fifty-fifty chance that the stress of last night sent Archer Story on another bender. And if that didn’t do the trick, today’s news story definitely will.

“Maybe he’s talking to Dr. Baxter,” she says. “I wouldn’t be able to wait, if I were him. That note was so strange.”

Dr. Baxter is strange, period. Milly and Aubrey were so upset that day at his house that I never told them what I thought I saw—him knocking into the table on purpose to interrupt the conversation about Story sibling rumors. It didn’t seem important at the time, anyway. We were all uncomfortable, and I was grateful he broke things up. It didn’t occur to me, until Aubrey read the note from him last night, that he might’ve done it because Hazel was about to share something he didn’t want us to hear.

There are things I should have told you long ago, the note said. If I were Archer Story, and I’d spent the past twenty-plus years wondering why I’d been cut off from my family fortune, I’d sober up enough to knock on his door first thing.

“You’re probably right,” I say. Milly raises a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and that big watch she always wears slides down her arm. Dr. Baxter and Archer Story both fade from my mind as I step closer, brushing my fingertips along the burnished gold band. “You ever think of getting this resized so that it actually fits?”

“No.” She slips it off easily and hands it to me. “It was my grandfather’s. It doesn’t actually tell time anymore.”



I turn the watch around in my hand. It’s heavy and still warm from her skin, the metal smooth and glowing. “Why do you wear it if it doesn’t tell time?”

“I just like it,” she says.

There’s an inscription on the back of the watch’s face: Omnia vincit amor. Yours always, M. “Was this a gift from Mildred?” I ask. Milly nods. “What does it mean?”

“Love conquers all.” Her lips twist as she lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Unless you’re talking about her kids, I guess. Or her grandkids.”

When it comes to how she presents herself to the world, Milly doesn’t mess around. I dragged her giant suitcase far enough to realize she cares a lot about appearances. So it’s interesting that the one thing she wears every single day is a broken reminder of being shut out.

I take her hand and slide the watch back onto her wrist. “Mildred’s out of her head for never giving you guys a chance till Archer forced her to. You get that, right? She’s the one with the problem, not you.”

“I’m aware.” Milly rolls her eyes. “Thanks for the free psychoanalysis, though.”