The Cousins(64)

“Really, Aubrey? It’s Aubrey, isn’t it?” Uncle Anders turns his condescending smile on me. “So you’re admitting you knew this boy wasn’t your cousin, and that you knew Archer brought you here, but you never bothered to inform your grandmother? And now you want people to believe that the rest of what I’m saying is a lie? Come on.” His voice turns silky smooth. “I can understand why you went along with it. Your father is a tough customer. It’s so hard to earn his love, isn’t it?”

The words suck all the air out of my lungs. Somehow, despite not having seen me since I was a little kid, Uncle Anders knew exactly where to hit. Meanwhile, he’s spinning everything to make him and JT sound blameless, and the rest of us sound like conniving gold diggers. And the worst thing is, what he’s proposing isn’t much more ludicrous than what actually happened.

“Where is Mother?” Uncle Anders asks. He scans the crowd with a frown, finally realizing that his audience is missing its most important member. “She needs to know that she has at least one grandchild who values honesty and respect.”

“Your mother left, thank God, before she had to listen to any of this travesty. And I’ve heard more than enough,” Donald says. He raises his hand and snaps his fingers. “It’s time for you to leave.” Men in dark suits seem to materialize out of nowhere, grabbing hold of Uncle Anders by both arms. His face flushes a deep, angry red.



“What’s the matter with you, Donald?” he yells. “I’m saving your ass.”

“His son, too,” Donald says to the men in suits. “And the other boy. Get all of them out of here.”

It’s chaos around us suddenly, a tangle of movement and shouting. Uncle Anders is straining against the men dragging him toward the exit, screaming, “This is my fucking home, Donald! Not yours! Mine!” at the top of his lungs. More men in suits appear, surrounding JT and Jonah and pulling them away as Milly watches with a blank expression.

Oh God. Milly.

She’s still on the balcony. I push through the crowd, making my way through the French door until I’m beside my cousin. One look at her glassy eyes, and I know the combination of shock and champagne has rendered her sharp tongue useless. Any other night, Milly would’ve gone toe-to-toe with Uncle Anders. But when I thread my fingers through hers, she just stares down at them like her hand is an alien appendage she’s never seen before.

“I should’ve known,” she says, her voice thick with alcohol. “I’m so stupid.”

“No you’re not.” I brush a strand of hair from her face. “Should’ve known what?”

“That it was Jonah’s parents.”

“Huh?” I’m still not getting it. I know Milly’s more than a little drunk, but I need her to focus. “Can you explain things to me like I’m in kindergarten?”



She presses a hand to her forehead, like that’ll help her collect her thoughts. “I read an article in the Providence Journal about how all these families lost money because of Uncle Anders’s financial advice. One man said he’d declared bankruptcy, and he— God. His name was Frank North. But I didn’t make the connection.” Her face hardens, eyes flashing with a shadow of her usual fire. “Because Jonah didn’t tell me. Didn’t tell us. All this time we’ve been protecting him, keeping quiet about who he really is, and he never bothered to let us know that oh, by the way, he has a massive grudge against our family.”

“Ohhh,” I breathe. Jonah’s just like you manipulated my parents comment—which had flown right over my head in the heat of the moment—suddenly comes back to me, and his whole demeanor makes a lot more sense. No wonder he Hulked out at the name Anders. “So he hates Uncle Anders.”

“And us, probably.” Milly folds her arms tightly across her chest. “He’s been using us for cover. Stringing us along till he could do something like this, and humiliate our entire family. I gave him the perfect opportunity, didn’t I?”

“No,” I say quickly. “He wouldn’t do that.” Milly doesn’t respond, and I squeeze her arm. “Milly, come on. Even if Jonah were a complete jerk, which I don’t think he is, he’s not that good of an actor. You saw through him in a flash, remember?”

“I didn’t see this,” she says dully.

I want to find the right words to comfort her, but before I can say anything else, Donald Camden leans through the doors, his face a cold mask of fury.

“You two. You’re going back to the dorms. I’ll deal with you tomorrow.”





Of all the ways I thought my time on Gull Cove Island might end, I didn’t picture two guys in suits standing over me in a dorm room while I stuff everything I own into my duffel bag.

“Am I under arrest?” I finally blurt out.

Suit No. 1 huffs out a laugh. They’re both blond guys in their thirties, but he’s taller and broader. He’s holding the bag with my rental tuxedo, which they told me to change out of as soon as we got to the dorm. At least they waited in the hall while I did it. “We’re not cops, kid. We’re security detail. Our job is to get you off resort premises and into a hotel downtown. You get one night to make arrangements with whatever parent or guardian is responsible for you. Mrs. Story expects you to be off the island by tomorrow afternoon.” His tone is even, almost bored, as he adds, “What happens to you after that isn’t our problem.”