Forever – Chapter 85

It all happened in a flash.

Fingers silently wrapped around the door as it cracked open. I threw myself at it, slamming the edge against the intruder’s wrist. I heard a loud grunt as the door bounced back and whacked my knuckles. I yelped and the intruder’s hand disappeared back into darkness. I slammed the door shut, throwing the lock with a cheap sense of victory. 

Through the gauzy sheer drapes, I saw the shadow man run down the veranda to the left, his pounding footsteps echoing across the cove. My lungs no longer seemed to work. I stood there, frozen, struggling to breathe.

Sam stirred behind me. “Jack? What are you doing out of bed? It’s the middle of the night,” he mumbled. 

I spun around, sucking on a bleeding knuckle. The adrenaline rush was doing a number on my stomach.

I inhaled sharply, jump starting my lungs. “Are you alright?” I asked, hands still shaking. “Did you see him?”

“See who?”

“The intruder.”

“Intruder?” he asked, sitting up straight and leaning back against the massive carved headboard. “What are you talking about?” He rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up, which even after a full night’s sleep is heavy lifting for the big guy.

I pulled my fingers out of my mouth and looked at my bruised knuckles. Now that the adrenaline was fading, they really hurt. “I smacked my fingers on the door. Geez, that smarts.” I resumed sucking on them, not that it helped much.

“Wait…did you say intruder?” Ah, now he was focused. Sam threw off the covers, twisted his legs over the side of the big four-poster bed and slid down to the floor. He was naked, same as me. His body, reflected in the shimmery moonlight, took my breath away.

“Someone was in here? Who? What did they want?” asked Sam as he flew around the room, turning on lights, checking windows and doors, and pulling the heavy drapes closed. Only when he was satisfied we were intruder-free did he take a breath. He pulled me into a hug and I tried not to pay attention to the fact that my naked junk was rubbing up against his.

“Are you okay?” he asked, grabbing my head in his hands and looking deep into my eyes. “Talk to me. Tell me what happened.” He gently pulled my injured hand away from my mouth, and I tried to ignore my rapidly rising dick. 

I hissed and winced when Sam touched my sore fingers. “I woke up to go to the bathroom and I saw a shadow out on the veranda. Whoever it was was trying to peek past the curtains. I came around to your side of the bed and tried to wake you up, but then he started coming through the door.”

“What did you do?”

“I did the only thing I could think of — I slammed the door on his wrist. Whoever it was ran away.”

“Jack! You could have been hurt. What were you thinking?” said Sam, letting my injured hand fall, suddenly pissed at me.

I winced in defense. “I couldn’t very well stand there and let him get to you, could I?”

“Me?” he asked, pulling me closer. “Nobody knows me here. Or you, either, for that matter.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know why whoever it was was trying to get in here, but I know he wasn’t after me, so he must have been after you.” I embedded my palms in the thick hair on his chest. “Before you ask, I have no idea how I know that, I just do.”

He looked deep into my eyes as he had done countless times before, and I let him in. I saw a flash of fear cross his face, then it was gone. He nodded and stroked my cheek in a soft, loving caress, melting my heart all anew.

“If anything ever happened to you,” he whispered, resting his forehead on mine.

“I’m okay, I promise,” I whispered back. “And I really gotta pee.” He grinned as I turned and trotted to the bathroom.

He was still standing at the foot of the bed, deep in thought, when I returned. I touched his shoulder and he pulled me into a tight hug without a word. He clung to me, his body trembling next to mine. He was scared?

“You okay, big guy?” I whispered.

He made a low noise in response, then led me back to the bed. I felt his hot breath on my ass as he gently pushed me up the little set of steps. We situated ourselves, his back against the headboard and my butt between his legs. I leaned back into his chest and he wrapped me up in his arms, resting his chin on my right shoulder. I pulled the blanket up around us as Sam intertwined his legs with mine. I shivered and he bunched the blanket tighter around my neck and shoulders.

“Tell me again what you saw,” said Sam. 

“It was a man — at least I think it was a man — I don’t know, it’s dark out there. He was trying to look into the windows, and then he went for the door. That’s all I know,” I said, staring into nothing as my mind re-lived those scary moments again.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes! I’m not making it up, Sam. He was out there. When the door opened, I yelled for you to wake up and then I shoved the door into his hand. Whoever it was ran away.”

“Which direction did he go?”

“Left,” I said, pointing in the direction of the other guys’ rooms. “You do believe me, don’t you?”

Sam sighed. “I believe you saw something, yes. But unless it was one of the guys trying to play a trick on us, I can’t see how anyone could get onto the balcony without going through one of the bedrooms.”

“Why?”

“It’s a twenty-five foot drop to the ground on that side of the building. The only fire escape is on our end, around the corner. You would have heard it if he’d used it. Thing is rusty as all get out.”

“How do you know all this?” I asked, twisting to look up at his profile.

“I saw it this afternoon when we first got here.”

I settled back down and said, “Well, he definitely went to the left, and I’m almost positive he didn’t come back this way. I think I would have seen his shadow again. The moonlight is pretty bright.”

“So…what? He just vanished?”

“I’m telling you, Sam, I didn’t just imagine it this time. He was real.”

“Wait…what do you mean, ‘this time’?”

Crap. My big mouth nails me again.

“Uh…well…”

“What’s going on, Jack?”

“Nothing. It’s no big deal.”

“Spill, Schaeffer,” said Sam, squeezing my biceps. Uh, oh. Damn, his hands were strong. My dick stirred again.

I sighed, knowing I had to tell him. No secrets. “I’ve been having some nightmares. Just a few. Honestly, it’s nothing.”

Sam let go and slid out from behind me so he could look at my face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, reaching for my hand.

“Why would I? There’s nothing you can do about a dream. There’s nothing I can do, either.”

“What kind of nightmares?”

I sighed with a little shrug. “Sometimes I’m being chased by someone. Other times I’m cornered and someone is about to hurt me. Stuff like that.”

“Who?”

“Who? What do you mean?”

“I mean who is chasing you? Who wants to hurt you?”

I swallowed. “I don’t always know. A couple of times it was Arnold Turner.”

“Well, fuck, Jack.”

“Shhh…it’s okay,” I said, reaching to stroke his arm. “I know he’s dead. I’m not worried about him. I’m not, honest. I never even think about him.”

“So why the nightmares, then? There has to be a reason.”

“I’m not sure, but I think it’s just stress. I read recently where unresolved stress, if left unchecked, can result in panic attacks and nightmares, things like that.”

“And you just happened to read this?”

I looked down. “Sort of.”

“Sort of? What’s that supposed to mean? What are you not telling me?”

I looked up into his eyes again. “It’s nothing. Please don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“What is nothing?!”

“Shhh! You’ll wake the others.”

“Don’t shush me, Jack. Have you been having panic attacks?”

“Only one. Well…maybe two, but I’m not sure.”

“Are you shitting me? You’ve been having panic attacks and didn’t tell me? Why would you do that?”

“I didn’t want to worry you, Sam. It’s nothing. I haven’t had one in over a week. And before you even think it, I’m telling you, what I saw tonight was not a dream. Whoever he was, he’s real, and he was out there on the veranda.”

Sam glared at the windows, every muscle tensed for battle. He turned back to me, primed for a fight. The corners of his eyes twitched in rhythm to the flare of his nostrils. He was pissed at me, which I probably deserved, but a fight would not be helpful at the moment.

I put a hand on his knee. “I’m sorry, Sam. I should have told you.”

“Yeah, you should have,” he said, his deep blue eyes full of fire. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s going on.” I nodded and he reached for my hand on his knee and pulled it closer. “You get royally pissed when I try to keep everything inside, so why would you do it to me? Help me understand that.”

I swallowed hard and looked down at his hairy thigh exposed from the bed sheets. “Sometimes…um…sometimes…ugh, why is this so hard?” I whispered to myself. Sam scooted closer and we more or less moved back into a position of me with my back to his chest and his warm, muscular arms surrounding me. I grabbed onto them and sighed.

“You’re safe, Jack. You can tell me anything. You know I’ll still love you,” said Sam softly in my ear. 

I did know, but it still didn’t make some things easy to talk about. In Sam’s arms, nothing could really hurt me. But that was part of the problem. I couldn’t always be in his arms.

I closed my eyes and leaned back on him. “Sometimes I feel incredibly weak next to you,” I whispered. “I feel…embarrassed, or ashamed, or…I don’t know.”

Instead of challenging me as I expected, he just whispered, “Keep talking.”

“I don’t want you to see me like that,” I said.

“Like what?” Ugh. Why was he making me say it?

“I don’t know! A victim, I guess. Defeated.”

He squeezed me. “I don’t see you as a victim, Jack. Far from it. Is that how you see yourself?”

My eyes welled up. “Sometimes,” I whispered, fighting back the tears.

Sam was quiet, and I had already said too much. What else is new? I could feel his warm breath on my shoulder as he held me close. I could also feel his dick against my ass, and a key part of me wanted to change the subject, but I kept quiet.

“Are you mad at me? Tell me what you’re thinking,” I said, pulling Sam’s arms tighter around my chest.

He sighed. “I’m not mad, I’m confused. I’m thinking someone having a panic attack isn’t something they can control, so weakness doesn’t play into it. And I know you know that, so I’m still trying to understand the ‘victim’ thing, I guess.”

My mind flashed to my last encounter with my brother, Terry. The revulsion in his eyes. The determination to kill me in a drug-induced haze. His spit running down my cheek. The harsh tone of my mother’s voice when she said don’t ever come home gay.

A tear fell and I brushed it away in frustration. And what about those damned tears? I was sick of them. Every time I faced an emotionally difficult situation I dissolved into a wimpy, weepy puddle.

I turned in Sam’s arms and faced him. He looked into my eyes and without a word pulled me into a hug as we slid down into the covers. I buried my face in his neck and let his strength flow into me, and with it, some measure of peace.

“I love you, Jack,” he whispered. “I’ll always be here for you. I promise.”

But what if he couldn’t be?

We woke a while later with the sun peeking around the edges of the drapes and all the lights still on. Sam stirred next to me, flipping his share of the covers over me and sliding down out of the bed. I grumbled my way out from under layers of down-filled warmth to face the day.

“Ugh. Did you get the license plate number of the truck that ran over us?” I said with a raspy voice. I rubbed my eyes and tried to ignore the unpleasant taste in my mouth.

Sam grunted. He was facing the windows, leaning back with his hands on his ass so his semi-hard dick was pointing almost horizontal with the floor. I looked down to see my own in a similar state. Sam turned to see me mesmerized by his hard cock. He grinned, took my hand, and led us to the shower.

It was not as big as our new shower at home, but big enough that Sam decided to have his way with me, and I wanted nothing more. Keeping my panic attacks a secret amounted to withholding a piece of myself from him, and when he started biting my neck and growling under the warm water spray, I twisted and gave him full access to my ass. 

He knelt down and squeezed my butt cheeks, rubbing and massaging them. Without warning he smacked his hand hard on my ass and I jumped, startled. I turned and looked down at him, his blue eyes staring up at mine filled with a fire I hadn’t seen before. Without breaking eye contact, he smacked my other cheek just as hard with a flat wet palm. The sting morphed into a comforting warmth as he continued to massage my ass.

I pushed my butt out a little further and his eyes slanted into predator mode. Oh, boy. He smacked my ass again, only harder, and I yelped. He looked deep into my eyes again, and I nodded, giving him permission to do whatever he wanted. He growled and slapped my ass hard on the other side, the sting bringing tears to my eyes, but a strange peace to my heart.

Suddenly he pulled my cheeks apart and began aggressively rimming my hole, his three-day growth chafing against my backside. I was in heaven. A finger moistened with spit worked into my hole. He soon added a second and I moaned.

“More,” I hissed.

He answered with another smack on my ass and increased the pace of the fingers pistoning in and out of my hole. I groaned and pushed against the invading fingers, driving them deeper. I gasped when he smacked me again, pushing me right to the edge.

“Please,” I begged. “Need you in me.”

“Fuck, yeah,” he said, pulling his fingers out of my hole and rising to his feet. 

When his rock hard cock pierced my ass ring, the spark of fire and fleeting pain gave way to tremors of ecstasy all over my body. It felt like every nerve under my skin was firing at once. He started sliding in and out slowly.

“Harder, Sam,” I hissed, leaning my cheek against the shower wall and pressing back into his thrusts. “I’m so close.”

“Wait for me,” he said.

“Hurry!”

He grabbed my waist for leverage and started piledriving into my hole. I grunted and  pushed back on every thrust, forcing his balls to slap against me. Every few seconds Sam would slap my ass hard, and I only pushed back harder.

“Oh fuck…fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m gonna cum,” groaned Sam. I stroked my rigid dick twice and nearly passed out as I sprayed the shower wall and floor with cum. Sam stopped thrusting. Embedded deep in my ass, I felt his cock pulse out a load of cum inside me.

I rested my forearms on the wall, slightly dizzy. Sam lay over my back, coming down from the high of his orgasm. As our breathing slowly returned to normal, his hand rubbed my red ass softly.

“You okay?” he whispered in my ear.

“Awesome. So needed that,” I said with a contented smile.

“Did I hurt you?”

I stood up straight and his dick slid out of my hole. Turning around to face him, I said, “Nope.” I rested my hands on his chest. “I love it when you take control.”

He smiled and wrapped me up in his arms.

“Forever,” he said.

More awake and much more relaxed, Sam threw open the drapes and windows, letting in glorious sunshine and a pleasant breeze. We dressed in shorts and t-shirts, then went looking for the guys. I tried to chase them away, but my head was filled again with thoughts of our mystery intruder.

“Do you think one of the guys would have tried playing a trick on us last night?” I whispered as we made our way to the restaurant.

“I doubt it. That would so not be cool. Doesn’t seem like their speed, but I guess we can ask,” said Sam.

I flashed to Tommy’s comments about needing security. Not a can of worms I wanted to open.

I grabbed his arm. “Let’s leave it alone. I don’t need them thinking I’m seeing things.”

Sam stopped and turned to face me on the landing. He grabbed my arms and said, “Jack…you didn’t imagine it, okay. I believe you.” He dropped his hands and blew out a deep breath. “But I agree, let’s not say anything for now. We’re here to relax and have fun, not solve a mystery.”

I nodded, relieved. 

My stomach grumbled and Sam grinned. “Time to eat.”

We found the guys in the cafe, enjoying a sprawling breakfast buffet. Brilliant sunshine streamed in through the windows, reflecting off the ocean waves in the distance.

“Well look who the cat dragged in,” said Tommy. “Glad you could finally join us.” Sam gave him a look, and Tommy grinned. “Jack wasn’t too rough on you last night, was he?”

Sam grunted and Tommy’s grin widened.

“Morning,” said JP as I flopped into a chair next to him with a deep sigh. He leaned over and whispered, “You okay?”

I nodded. Stubbs came back to the table with a huge stack of thick pancakes drowning in some dark red syrup. My mind flashed to blood. My stomach rolled and I decided a heavy breakfast was not for me.

Sam was undeterred, which was a good thing, I suppose. I followed him around the half-dozen tables displaying various food stations as he filled his plate with different selections. I ladled some fresh fruit and yogurt into a bowl. Sam looked at my empty plate and searched my eyes. I shrugged and he nodded.

Conversation over breakfast consisted of me listening to the guys and nodding when they asked for my agreement on their plans. It wasn’t hard. They wanted a beach day, and I was all for it. I would hang out with them for the morning, then see if Colin Napier had some time for me later. For once my weak stomach might work in my favor. I had an idea how I might get away from the guys for a bit without making them suspicious.

Sam and Stubbs ultimately pushed away from the table, hands on distended stomachs, satiated for the moment. Tommy sipped coffee from a large mug with a tropical parrot painted on the side. JP sat back with a contented smile. He looked so at peace now, I found myself wondering what was really driving this major transformation. When he was ready, I would know.

“Who’s ready for some sun?” asked Tommy, draining his mug.

“Me,” said JP.

“Me, too,” I said.

“Me, three,” said Sam with a grin.

Stubbs just raised his hand. Words weren’t working for him that early in the morning.

Sam and I returned to our room, where we stripped down and put on our board shorts. I was bending over to pull flip flops out of a suitcase when he bumped me from behind.

“You’ve got a great ass, you know that?” he said. 

I smiled and stood up straight. “Thank you, glad you like it.”

“You know what else I like?”

“What?”

He pulled me into a hug and kissed me gently, then gazed into my eyes. “Absolutely everything else about you, especially your heart for the people that matter most to you.”

I smiled. “What’s brought this on?”

“I’ve been thinking all morning about what you did last night. I can see it now.”

“See what?”

“I see how you are quick to fight for the people that matter to you, the people you love. You didn’t even hesitate to defend me when you thought I was in danger. You do it all the time.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, leaning back and studying his serious eyes.

“I mean you have a significant fight response when your friends and family are threatened in any way. You did it with the docs down in Texas. You went to bat in a big way for little Jayden who was all alone. You took on the court systems in two states and won. And you basically banished my ridiculous aunt with one little rant, when the rest of my family just let her say whatever. You did that for me. Aside from Tommy, you’ve been my biggest defender, and I…I just want you to know I appreciate it.”

I looked down at his chest, a warm but unfamiliar feeling filling my soul. “I love you,” I whispered.

“I know,” said Sam, kissing the top of my head and pulling me tighter.

I listened for a moment to his heart beating in my ear as it rested on his chest. I could sort of see myself in what Sam had said. I did step up when people I cared about needed help. So why couldn’t I do it for myself?

We spent the remainder of the morning in the pool. At high tide the beach was very narrow, so instead we splashed around and hung out under the waterfall cascading into one end of the rectangular pool. 

To me it was a perfectly acceptable swimming pool. But for Tommy and Stubbs, and to a lesser extent, Sam, it was mediocre at best. I listened to the guys go on and on about how whoever owned this resort had missed the boat, and they could do so much more by way of creative design and maintenance. Occupational hazard, I thought, and didn’t pay much attention. Sam grinned big when he caught me rolling my eyes at Tommy’s suggestion the pool be redone as two separate levels with slides between them. 

Around one o’clock, we were all lying on lounge chairs, catching some rays. My thoughts dwelled on the mystery intruder. Who was he? Why would he take such a risk to enter an occupied room in the middle of the night? What did he want?

I shifted my butt to a new position. The chair cushions had seen better days. JP sat up and stretched his arms overhead, and Sam did likewise. I saw the hair under his arms and my breath caught in my throat. 

I know we were still in the early days of forever, but stolen glances at Sam never failed to get my motor going. I reached to shift my hardening dick in my board shorts that had slid down low on my waist. JP caught me and grinned. Thankfully he didn’t say anything. I blushed and gave him a little shrug. What could I do? I had the hots for my guy.

“Anybody else hungry?” asked JP. All our hands shot up. Something about being in the sun for hours on end made me ravenous. Or maybe it was because I had mostly skipped breakfast.

Tommy stood up and wiped sweat from his brow with his beach towel. “Where are all the other guests? It’s like we’re the only ones here. How’s a place like this make money?” I looked at Sam, and he didn’t miss a beat.

“Hey, Tommy, I’m curious. Why are you so obsessed with how this island operates?”

“I’m not obsessed,” he replied.

“You’ve made a bunch of comments about the pool, the room service, the restaurant, the beach, the number of guests. You thinking about getting out of the pool maintenance business?”

Tommy made a face then looked at Stubbs, who just shrugged. Odd. There was a story there. Tommy looked at Sam but didn’t address his question. He picked up his shades and flip flops and started walking toward the steps leading back up to the main building. Sam looked at me, confused. The rest of us grabbed our stuff and followed Tommy.

We threw our wet towels in a large basket marked for that purpose as we passed through the little gate in the fence surrounding the pool. As we ascended the steps, I turned to see one of the young boys who we met the evening before walk over to the basket and start emptying the wet towels onto a cart. Where did he come from?

As we were the only guests in the cafe, the staff immediately descended upon us, offering luncheon options. We arranged ourselves around a large round table and discussed the menu. We settled for soup, sandwiches, and chips. Once we made our selections and we had a couple of pitchers of ice water to share, Tommy cleared his throat.

“You gonna answer my question now?” asked Sam with a wide grin.

Tommy sighed and grinned back. “Maybe, as soon as you wipe that stupid grin off your face.” Sam just grinned wider. “Fucker,” said Tommy softly, behind a big smile.

“What’s going on with you two?” asked JP.

“What two?” said Tommy.

“You and Stubbs, here. The two of you are cooking up something, I can tell. Let us in on the big secret,” said JP.

I looked at Stubbs and he just shrugged again, deferring to Tommy to answer. Figures.

Tommy took a moment to look at all of us in the eye, took a deep breath, and spilled all.

“Fine, you might as well know. We’ve been talking, Stubbs and I, about starting a new business. We’re only in the idea stage…”

“What kind of business?” asked Sam.

“Does your father know?” asked JP.

Tommy put his hands up and sighed. “Give me a chance, guys.” While he sipped a drink of water, I stole a glance at Stubbs. He was grinning, and there was something in his eyes I had never seen before. He was excited, a fire lit from somewhere deep inside. Interesting.

“Come on, spill,” said Sam.

“Fine,” answered Tommy. “Right now we’re thinking pool design. And yes, JP, my father knows. And before you ask, no, he’s not too thrilled about it.”

“Why?” I asked.

Tommy looked at me like it should have been obvious. “Because he’s been grooming me to take over the pool maintenance business.”

“Can’t Paradise Pools do both?” I said. Stubbs sat up closer to the table and Tommy carefully set his water glass down. I could feel Sam’s and JP’s eyes riveted on me.

“It’s too much,” said Tommy, shaking his head. “We work six days a week, year round, servicing existing pools. There’s no time left to develop the design business. And I really believe it could be a great business.”

“You never talked about pool design as a business before. What turned you on to this now?” asked Sam.

“Miss Chrissy,” said Stubbs. Tommy stared daggers at him, and Stubbs cast his eyes down to his lap, failing to hide the grin plastered across his face.

“Okay,” said Sam. “That’s the third time I’ve heard her name. Tommy, is there something you’d like to share with the table?”

Stubbs snorted and smiled wide. Tommy glared at Sam for a half-second, then dropped any angry pretense with a deep sigh.

“Christine Mattison. You’ve met her,” he said.

“I have?” said Sam. “When?”

“Back at UCLA. She was a business major. We went out twice. I introduced you to her on the quad. You called her a one-two-knockout punch.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “The one with the super long blond hair down to her butt and the big…?” asked Sam, holding up his hands in a ridiculous reference to large breasts. “Wait. Isn’t she the one you said you couldn’t stand being in the same room with for more than five minutes? That Christine?”

Tommy grinned. “Yep. That’s the one.”

“Obviously she’s grown on you,” said JP, smiling wide.

Tommy shrugged. “What can I say? She’s different now, I’m different. It’s working.”

Stubbs snorted. Tommy glared at him again. “What? Is there something else you need to say?”

Stubbs grinned. “You’ve been inseparable for the last month. You’re working it, alright.”

“You’re one to talk,” said Tommy, but he was smiling and his eyes were happily animated.

“Hold up,” said Sam, leaning in. “You’ve been out with…Miss Chrissy…more than twice?”

“Yeah. So?” answered Tommy.

“So? This is huge, man. In the whole time I’ve known you, you almost never go on more than a couple of dates with the same girl. Is this serious?” asked Sam.

I barely caught Stubbs’s nod.

I watched Sam look into Tommy’s eyes, the way he did me all the time. Apparently Tommy had been on the receiving end of Sam’s soul probing before, because he didn’t flinch. The rest of us were silent as we waited for Sam’s assessment. A moment later he nodded to himself, and Tommy sighed.

“For real? She’s the one?” asked Sam.

Tommy gave a little shrug. “Maybe. It’s looking that way.”

Sam sat back and took a drink of water. “So she’s why you’re thinking of branching out.”

Tommy glanced at Stubbs, then nodded.

“When do I get to meet her?” asked Sam.

“Whenever you want, I guess,” said Tommy. Sam grinned and glanced at me. I nodded. We might be returning to Hawaii soon.

“Let me get this straight,” said JP. “Tommy’s finally found a girl that rocks his world, might even be marriage material, and that somehow means Tommy needs to start a new business? And what part does Stubbs play in all this, exactly?”

“I’m the designer,” mumbled Stubbs. I barely heard him. JP’s mouth fell open and Sam just smiled.

“About time,” said Sam. Stubbs nodded to him.

“The designer of what?” asked JP.

“Swimming pools,” said Tommy. “Stubbs churns out fucking brilliant pool designs in his sleep. My job is to figure out the construction and manage the projects. And if things work out with Chrissy, she’ll handle the finances.”

“You design pools?” asked JP, staring at Stubbs. “Where was I when you were developing these amazing new skills? Oh…yeah…nevermind.” He looked down into his water glass as he appeared to shrink three sizes before our eyes, realizing a lot can happen when you’re in rehab for nearly ninety days.

“Don’t do that,” said Sam, softly. “You’ll always be one of us, JP.” He put his hand on JP’s shoulder and JP looked at him and nodded.

“Stubbs used to talk to me about designs whenever we had down time,” said Sam.

“He never shuts up about it,” said Tommy with a huge grin.

“For real?” asked JP to Stubbs. 

“I’ve been working on it for a while, actually,” said Stubbs, nodding. “I could always see the design in my head, I just couldn’t draw it. When I went on vacation, I ran into somebody who was drawing boats at a marina. Thing is, we were in a park, and there were no boats in sight. I was curious, so I asked how he could do that, and he told me how he sees things in his head and then he lets his hands draw that picture. He suggested a basic design book, and I started messing around with it. Before I knew it I had a dozen designs on paper. I showed them to Tommy, and he thought they had merit.”

We all sat there more or less stunned that Stubbs would open up so much in one conversation. Our lunch arrived, and we dug into our soup and sandwiches. Tommy swallowed a bite and sat back.

“Stubbs has got the stuff, guys. His designs are amazing. And with all the new development happening around the islands, I know there’s a market for this. We’ve just got to get the money together to launch.”

“Is your father helping with that?” I asked, crunching on a jerk-spiced kettle chip.

Tommy sighed. “No. Believe me, I’ve tried. We’ve talked about it a lot, but he sees this new venture as a distraction from the real money maker – the maintenance. He believes in a business model of repetitive billing. You design a pool once, but you maintain it forever. I know he has a point, but sometimes, you just want to sink your teeth into something that gets you fired up, you know? I can’t see myself cleaning pools for the rest of my life.”

“Are these pools for homes or resorts?” I asked.

“Both,” said Tommy and Stubbs at the same time.

“We need to do both to make it work on paper. Chrissy’s put together a spreadsheet that shows how many pools and what price points work to support a startup operation. It’s definitely doable,” said Tommy. “We need seed money, which is why Stubbs and I are humping our asses double-time, trying to save up as fast as we can.”

“Your father won’t give you the startup money?” asked JP. I was thinking along the same lines.

Tommy sighed. “I asked, but he said no immediately. Said some things you just have to do on your own. He won’t stop me from doing this, but he’s not going to go out of his way to help, either.”

“He doesn’t want to lose you,” said Sam. 

Tommy nodded. “Exactly, Sam. And I get it. He’s been counting on me for years to take over Paradise Pools. I don’t want to let him down, but at the same time, I really need to do this.”

“Will you stay in Hawaii, or maybe expand to the mainland?” I asked.

“Hawaii, for now. If it takes off, who knows?” answered Tommy. 

My head was suddenly spinning with ideas, but it was too soon to voice them out loud. I needed to think. I caught Sam watching me out of the corner of my eye. I swear he had a sixth sense when I was working on a problem. He reached under the table and squeezed my hand.

We spent the rest of our lunch time chatting about Hawaii and the plans for the pool design business. I had yet to meet her, but this Christine person seemed like she knew what she was doing on the business side of things. He didn’t share numbers, but the concepts Tommy was sharing reminded me of the type of questions Simon or Mason would ask in meetings when we looked at acquiring other companies. I was impressed.

When Sam and Stubbs finally pushed back from the table — the rest of us had finished long before them — it was decided they were ready to try the beach. I begged off, saying I was going to lay down. What I really wanted was some time with Colin Napier. Since we were on vacation, nobody objected to my absence.

I set out to find Mr. Napier after changing into beige linen slacks, a white short-sleeved shirt, and my leather loafers with no socks. Casual, but not sloppy. I didn’t want him to think I was a spoiled rich kid. Vast canyons separated our age and life experience, and while I was technically his boss on paper, I was here to listen and learn. I wasn’t sure why it mattered to me at the moment, but I needed Mr. Napier to like me.

The challenge was to focus on understanding how the island operated and not dwell on last evening’s incident. I didn’t feel afraid necessarily, which was confusing. I was definitely pissed off that my relaxing vacation with Sam and the guys had been marred by worries of a mysterious foe lurking in the dark of night.

If I was truly honest with myself — and at the moment, I didn’t see the point — I was mostly angry that the incident exposed a side of me I didn’t want to face. Yeah, I jumped at the door and managed to scare off whoever was trying to enter our room. But that was sheer luck, not some ninja-warrior self-defense move. I panicked, plain and simple.

If they had really wanted into the room, there was nothing I could have done to stop them. 

Sighing heavily, I did my best to focus on the mission at hand. As I explored the main building on my own, I discovered the back half of the ground floor behind the grand staircase was segmented into working offices and the normal mechanical functions supporting any such structure. Each door was discreetly engraved with the activity or function housed behind it. I turned a corner and found myself at a dead end, and a door labeled “General Manager.” I knocked.

“Come in,” came the silky British accent. I obeyed.

The room was bright, filled with sunlight streaming through a large picture window behind Mr. Napier’s rather simple wooden desk. Lush tropical gardens filled the view. The rest of the furnishings were purely functional, a jumble of design aesthetics. Despite the mismatched furniture, everything was neat and tidy, much like the distinguished gentleman sitting behind his spartan workspace. The only nod to modernity was the flat screen computer monitor pushed back to one corner.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Schaeffer,” said Colin, rising from his chair, a comfortable smile softening his expression. “To what do I owe this pleasure? Are you and your guests comfortable in your rooms?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir. We’re fine. I was wondering, if you’re not too busy, could you show me around a bit and tell me more about Calloway Island?”

He made a show of looking behind me to see if we were alone. “Is this tour for your benefit only?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I see. And have I surmised correctly that your friends do not know that you are the rightful owner of this island, and therefore much more than a guest? That you are, in fact, my employer?”

I blushed. “Yes…you are correct, I suppose.”

His eyes crinkled in humor. “Come now, Mr. Schaeffer. There is no need for false modesty here. Owning a private island is the stuff of dreams for some. I would be delighted to show you around. And I hope you have a quiver full of questions, as I am quite beside myself with odious tedium today.”

I smiled. He skirted around his desk, placing a well-worn panama hat on top of his graying hair, and I followed the thin man out.

“What would you like to see first, young man?”

“I don’t need to see each one, but how many guest rooms are there?” I asked, following him down the back hallway toward the main lobby.

“The Guest House, as it is formerly known, has twelve separate guest rooms, all on the second floor. There are four ocean-facing rooms along the front, all of which you and your friends are occupying, opening onto the veranda. There are four similar rooms in size and furnishings at the rear of the building, with lovely views of the garden foliage, also with a similar veranda. These accommodations are quite peaceful, and while the ocean-facing rooms are the most requested, we do have the occasional guest who prefers the quiet and solitude.”

He paused at the bottom of the grand staircase. “We have an additional two rooms on each side of the building, but they are somewhat smaller in size and have less desirable views, nor do they have an outside balcony. They are, however, equivalent to the quality and standards we set for all our accommodations. For reasons only of their restricted views, we generally assign them only when absolutely necessary.”

“How often are all the rooms filled at the same time?” I asked.

“I can count a handful of occasions when all twelve rooms were occupied simultaneously. To be honest, sir, we discourage larger groups from making reservations when we can.”

“Why? It’s my understanding that hotels live or die by their occupancy rates?”

“Yes, of course, sir. But here on Calloway Island, we aren’t simply renting rooms in which to sleep. We are providing a unique life experience, one our guests won’t find elsewhere. For most, this includes a certain required measure of privacy. For example, when Mr. and Mrs. Franklin visited us, there were no other guests, unless accompanied by the Franklins.”

“I see. So I gather you don’t mix one group with another.” He wrinkled his nose and shook his head.

“Please forgive my directness, but I’ve been told the island is profitable. How is this possible with so few rooms occupied?” I asked.

His mouth morphed into a thin smile. “The rooms are occupied by those who are willing to pay for the experience of a stay on Calloway Island. I can assure you, Mr. Schaeffer, they generally leave well satisfied. Privacy comes with the privilege of staying here.”

“And at a hefty price,” I said. He simply nodded with a wink and we walked up the half flight of stairs at the far left side of the lobby to the entrance of the cafe.

“The expanded cafe and kitchen on this side of the Guest House were opened just before Mr. and Mrs. Franklin’s final visit with us. He was quite proud of them. He felt they elevated the guests’ experience without feeling overly…commercial.”

I smiled. “So he didn’t want a fast food restaurant slumming up the island.”

Mr. Napier grinned wide. “Exactly.”

After touring the kitchen, which was spotlessly clean from what I could see, we walked through the empty cafe and back down to the main lobby. Stepping outside the main doors, the ocean breeze hit our faces. Two bright yellow birds squawked as they flew overhead. 

Mr. Napier pointed to the two identical sea cruisers bobbing in the ocean next to the wide dock in the distance, at the far end of the cove.

“We have two vessels for ferrying passengers and supplies to and from St. Thomas,” he said. “I believe you’ve met Captain Marcos. He and his first mate, Beryl, handle that part of the operation. The cruisers are also available for excursions to other islands in the area, should guests like to explore. Passports are absolutely necessary, of course.”

“Who manages all the purchasing and supply chains?” I asked.

“Excellent question, Mr. Schaeffer. For the needs of the Guest House, that task falls to me. All food service needs are managed by Marcel, our Head Chef. Captain Marcos keeps the boats running.”

He pointed to a landscaped slope on the far side of the hill filled with bright flowers and colorful ground cover fronting otherwise wild vegetation. “Paolo and his twin brother, Espirio, serve as our groundskeepers and ship’s mates when necessary. They’ve been with us since Mr. Franklin first purchased the island.”

“What’s the story with that, if you don’t mind my asking? Were you already here?”

He raised the back of his hand to his mouth and chuckled softly. “Uh…no, sir. There was almost nothing here when Mr. Franklin purchased the island, as I understand it. From the story he shared with me, the desalination plant and power plants were in place, but little else. Perhaps a small boat dock.”

“Desalination?”

“Yes, for drinking water. Some islands have a natural freshwater source, such as a cold spring. Calloway Island is much too small, and therefore matters had to be taken in hand before the island could be habitable. Also, having a source of fresh water and electrical power makes an island more saleable, and Mr. Franklin made sure they were in good working order before he bought the place.”

“Where are they?” I asked, craning my neck all around.

“The other side of the island,” said Mr. Napier, crooking a thumb backwards. “Best left out of sight, along with the sewage treatment system and other necessary functional systems.”

“Did Phillip have to build everything else?” I said.

“Not quite. There was a foundation in place for what would become the Guest House you see today. The previous structure had been partially destroyed in a hurricane some years before. There was no pool, and the beach had eroded significantly. Mr. Franklin bought the island for a song, as it were, and then focused on making it habitable, first for himself and his lovely wife, and then for other guests.

“So you met her? Amanda, I mean.”

“Yes, I did. Lovely woman. And may I say, sir, you bear a striking resemblance.”

“So I’ve been told. I never met her. She was my birth mother.”

“I see,” said Mr. Napier, but added nothing else. I changed the subject.

“So where does the staff live? On St. Thomas?”

“A few. But most live here on the island, in staff housing.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Where is that?”

He smiled. “Care to take a ride with me?” he asked. I nodded. He turned and walked briskly down the flagstone path toward a small collection of golf carts. He selected one, slid behind the wheel, and patted the seat next to him. I sat.

Mr. Napier deftly maneuvered the cart along asphalt covered paths that were largely hidden by a deliberate over-growth of tropical foliage. Palm trees swayed like a canopy as we made our way deeper into the island. Colorful birds zipped over our heads from tree to tree.

Less than five minutes later, we pulled into a circle of flagstones in front of a long, low-rise white building. There was a deep porch across the front, stretching the length of the structure, fronted by a long row of flowering bushes. Mr. Napier parked the golf cart and stepped out. I followed suit. 

A large brown-skinned woman in a pale blue flowered sundress looked down at me from the porch with a frown on her face. Her eyes were quite large and full of life. A lofty scarf-like turban thing in a yellow and blue pattern adorned her head.

“What is this?” she asked Mr. Napier with a heavy accent, stepping down from the porch waving a sturdy paper fan across her face. French? Her lips were painted a deep red and she was staring at me with a look I was growing accustomed to. The one that said I know you from somewhere.

“Mrs. Petit, may I introduce you to Mr. Jack Schaeffer.” She held her hand out delicately as I approached, almost like royalty. I held it gently for a moment. I refrained from kissing her finger. She seemed satisfied with my greeting.

“Never in all my years,” she said, shuffling her ample body around me and marveling. “Mr. Martin was not lying. Upon my word, he is most certainly her progeny.”

Turning to me, Mr. Napier pinched his face and cleared his throat. “Mr. Schaeffer, I hope you won’t be offended, but when we received the news of an heir to Mr. and Mrs. Franklin, Mrs. Petit was somewhat skeptical. She and I had served the Franklins for a number of years, and therefore we were cognizant of their lack of offspring. So the news came as a bit of a…shock, shall we say.”

“Do not twist the man’s neck around with all your fancy talk, Mr. Napier. I will say it straight, Mr. Schaeffer. I was not buying it, as you Americans like to say. But now I see you with my own eyes, I am a believer. Welcome to Calloway Island, sir.”

“Uh…thank you, Mrs. Petit,” I replied.

“Yes. Well, we best step inside for some tea. Did those two rascals you insist on burdening me with do as I said, Mr. Napier?” 

“I believe so, Mrs. Petit. I believe so.” I assumed she meant the two young men who had taken our bags up to our rooms the previous evening. She made a slight huff, then remembered I was standing there. 

“Gentlemen,” she said, turning. We followed her up onto the porch where the gentle breeze and shade mercifully cooled the back of my neck. I knew without looking it was red with sunburn.

Tea was a simple affair around a circular table of dark wood with heavy chairs stationed in the middle of a massive communal room. I could see tiny white caps on the ocean waves through several long windows across the back wall, open to allow the sea breezes to cool the room. Something sweet and yummy was baking nearby. It was lovely and peaceful. 

A long hallway extended to the left, with doors every ten feet or so. I assumed those were the staff quarters Mr. Napier had mentioned.

Kathryn, the waitress from the restaurant, suddenly appeared with a cart transporting a silver teapot and brightly painted ceramic cups and saucers. A collection of petit fours and sliced breads accompanied the tea. Mrs. Petit watched Kathryn like a hawk as she served us. It felt like some kind of training exercise. I was glad for her sake that she didn’t appear to make any mistakes. 

I wasn’t so sure about my own performance. I nearly dropped my cup and saucer when she tried to hand it to me. 

“Very well, Miss Hale,” said Mrs. Petit. “Thank you. You may clean up the kitchen and return to the Guest House to help prepare for dinner.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Petit,” she replied with a friendly smile in my direction, then vanished into another room through a swinging door. I assumed it was a kitchen of some sort.

“Now…Mr. Schaeffer,” said Mrs. Petit. “What experience do you have owning an island?”

I choked on the little pastry I was nibbling, and took a sip of tea to clear my throat. “Uh…none, Ma’am,” I said, looking to Mr. Napier for guidance.

“Mrs. Petit,” said Mr. Napier with a tone suggesting she was out of line.

“Do not Mrs. Petit me,” she replied, pointing a finger. “I need to understand the situation in which we find ourselves. If I leave it up to you, he will depart with none of us the wiser.” Mr. Napier surrendered with a sigh.

Clearly she was worried about something. “What would you like to know?” I asked, reaching for a piece of what looked like banana bread.

“To start, what are your intentions with the island? And second, what are your intentions with the staff?” she asked. Mr. Napier appeared as if someone had just stabbed him in the heart.

I took a bite of the bread in my hand. Banana, with dates and walnuts. Delicious. I took another bite and pondered how to respond.

I swallowed and said, “This is obviously my first visit to Calloway Island, and I’m enjoying it very much. I have both of you to thank for that, I’m sure. As to my intentions, I’m not sure what you are asking,” I said, stalling.

“I am asking if you will keep it in your…what was that thing Mr. Martin spoke of?” she asked Mr. Napier.

He sighed. “A portfolio.”

She pointed at him again. “Yes, that is it. Your portfolio,” she said to me.

I smiled. “Mrs. Petit, I can assure you that I have no intention of selling the island or changing anything about how it is run. And that includes the staff, which I believe was your second question.” I took another bite of banana bread. Oh my, was it heavenly.

“I see,” she said with a half-hidden smile, resting her hands on her bosom.

“Satisfied?” asked Mr. Napier in a droll tone. Her smile became genuine. “Well, good,” said Mr. Napier. “Now that we have dispensed with that bit of unpleasantness, perhaps you might inform Mr. Schaeffer as to your role here on the island.”

She turned to me with a serious face and sat up straighter. “I am the Directress of Guest Relations, sir. My staff is responsible for maintaining all the rooms in the Guest House, as well as those in this abode.”

“For pity’s sake, you’re the head housekeeper,” said Mr. Napier, rolling his eyes. 

Mrs. Petit sighed. “True…but my version sounds better,” she said with a coy smile, then erupted in rich, deep laughter. Mr. Napier grinned, clearly accustomed to her embellishments, I suppose. I grinned right back at them.

“And I thank you, Mr. Schaeffer, for answering my questions so forthrightly. Some people, who I will not name,” said Mrs. Petit, looking pointedly at Mr. Napier. “Prefer to beat around the bush.”

“Surely you speak not of me,” said Mr. Napier, pretending to be offended.

She chuckled, her bosom heaving up and down. “Please, your prevarications are legendary. But we love you anyway.”

He smiled. “I should say so.”

“Or not, if you thought it might offend,” said Mrs. Petit, laughing again at her own joke. Mr. Napier smiled at his co-worker and obvious friend.

“Mrs. Petit, may I ask you a question?” I said. She nodded and folded her hands in her lap. “Would you share the recipe for this banana bread with me? It’s amazing.”

She beamed. “Of course, sir. Miss Hale has been sharing some of her family recipes with us. I will see that you receive a copy before you depart.”

We spent a pleasant half hour chatting about the island and their love of service. It was clear Mrs. Petit and Mr. Napier did not consider their work to be a job — it came from their hearts. I learned that Mr. Napier had been seduced by Phillip Franklin from a luxury resort in the Swiss Alps, and Mrs. Petit had been wooed from her lengthy employ at a Parisian establishment catering to some of the world’s richest clientele. 

I suspected Phillip Franklin recognized a certain desire to serve in people he met, and where possible, he drew them to himself. It made sense from what I knew of Amanda and him and their life’s work. Or perhaps it was just a comfort in being surrounded by one’s own kind. Despite the different accents and mannerisms, my time with Mrs. Petit and Mr. Napier reminded me of Charles and Maggie at the breakfast table every morning back in Denver. Fascinating.

I had a question for them, but I wasn’t sure how to ask it. Taking my cue from Mrs. Petit, I decided to just put it out there. “May I ask you both another question?”

“But of course,” said Mrs. Petit. Mr. Napier sat a bit straighter and gave me a solemn nod.

“The island is lovely, and the furniture and fixtures in the guest rooms appear in fine condition. But I’ve noticed other things are…well, not as pristine as I might have expected, given what I know about the Franklins.”

Mrs. Petit deferred to Mr. Napier. He paused half a second before asking, “Is there something in particular that is not to your satisfaction?” I couldn’t tell if he was offended or genuinely interested in my opinion.

I hesitated. Mrs. Petit was having none of it. “Speak your mind, sir. It is your island, it should be as you wish, should it not?” She looked at Mr. Napier and he nodded.

“Well…as I said, most everything is just fine, but I did notice a few things, like the cushions on the pool furniture seem a bit worn. The carpet in the upstairs hallway is faded and showing signs of wear, as well. Sam said the fire escape on the one side of the Guest House is rusted?”

Mr. Napier sighed. “Yes, it is. A challenge in a tropical climate. I’ve had two men out to see about replacing it, but I am still waiting for their official bids to send to Mr. Martin for approval.”

“Why does he need to see them?” I asked.

“He approves all expenditures.”

I sat back. “I see…except all that does is slow things down. In all your time here on the island, has Todd ever not approved a request from you?”

Mr. Napier let just the slightest grin escape past his lips. “No, sir, he has not.”

I grinned. “Todd told me he has never visited the island, so I doubt he would know better than you, sir, what is truly needed here. Would you agree?”

Mrs. Petit grinned at Mr. Napier and said, “Here is where you say ‘I should say so’.” He only smiled and nodded in agreement.

“When I return to Denver,” I said. “I will instruct Todd to make changes to the way the island’s finances are managed. I want you to have full control of the island’s budget and financial decision making, subject to an annual review, which I will require to be held here on the island, so the accountants can see what we’re talking about. Is that agreeable?”

Mr. Napier grinned and said, “Yes, sir, quite. I appreciate your vote of confidence.”

“Once you have the fire escape situation in hand, you’ll find something extra in the budget for general improvements where needed,” I added.

“Thank you, sir,” said Mrs. Petit. 

“I believe I can depend on both of you to be my eyes and ears here. If you need anything, please let me know.”

Miss Hale approached the table. “There’s a call from the Guest House for you, Mr. Napier.” He stood up, excused himself, and followed her out.

While he was gone, Mrs. Petit inquired as to my discovery of my birth parents. I regaled just the highlights, and she made the appropriate and expected reactions. I was getting more comfortable telling the story, but each encore recitation reminded me I knew so very little about Amanda and Phillip, and probably never would.

Mr. Napier returned to our table with pursed lips, looking fiercely at his pocket watch. “I apologize for cutting this visit a bit short, but I must get back to the Guest House.” He started to say something else, but glanced at me and held his tongue. Interesting. I took my cue and stood to leave.

“Thank you for tea, Mrs. Petit,” I said, holding her hand again when she presented it. 

“It has been a joyful pleasure to meet you, Mr. Schaeffer. If there is anything you or your guests require, ask any of the staff and we will see to it.”

“Thank you again,” I replied with a nod. She beamed with pride.

I turned and followed Mr. Napier out to the circle drive. We boarded the golf cart and took off with a shot. His lips were pursed in a thin line as he navigated around the slight twists and turns in the pathway. The calm demeanor was gone.

“Is something wrong?” I asked, grabbing again for the support bar framing my side of the golf cart.

He glanced in my direction, startled at the question. “No, sir,” he said with a slight shake of his head. He focused forward and kept driving. We made it back to the Guest House in half the time.

Mr. Napier parked under a grove of palm trees near the entrance and turned the key. He placed his hand carefully in his lap after brushing at the seam of his perfectly pressed pants and sighed.

“Is there anything else you would like to see on the island, Mr. Schaeffer?” he asked, his proper British persona firmly back in place.

Something was up, but I had no clue. He was agitated and working very hard to hide it from me. I was curious and wanted to pry a little, but something inside me said to leave it alone for now.

“I think I’m fine for now, Mr. Napier. Thank you for a lovely afternoon. I’ll let you get back to your work.” He nodded and we both slid out of the golf cart. 

Before turning to leave, he said to me, “The back of your neck is quite red. You really must get sunscreen on that.” I reached a hand up and felt the heat coming off the nape. 

“Thank you. Sam’s going to be mad at me for forgetting.”

He smiled. “I’m sure it’s only because he cares for you very much.” I blushed as a wave of warmth washed over me.

“He’s the best.”

“If you need sunscreen, you will find a collection of creams and ointments in the walnut cabinet near the staircase. Help yourself to whatever you require. If you’ll excuse me, I have a few things I need to attend to.”

I nodded. “Of course. Thank you again.” He turned on his heels and walked away, a clear burden resting on his shoulders.

I spent an hour wandering around the grounds surrounding the Guest House, which was overkill. The island wasn’t that big. But I wasn’t paying much attention to the flora and fauna. The attempted break-in to our room jumped back to the forefront of my mind.

Aside from the invasion of privacy and potential physical threat — as a guest on my own island, no less — I felt cornered emotionally by the whole incident. Instead of being able to relax and enjoy myself, no, I had to be reminded of feeling like a weak, pathetic victim of…whatever. Ugh!

I didn’t want to face my fears or insecurities. I was sick of them. I had spent months doing literally everything afraid, and I was tired of it. Maybe I could convince Sam to just disappear with me somewhere, a place where nobody had any problems or needs. Everything was easier when no one wanted anything to do with me, like my previous life in Chicago. My life before Sam.

I sighed and kicked a large seed-like thing that must have fallen off a tree. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t going back to that invisible existence. I could give up the house, the island, even the business, but I wasn’t giving up Sam. No way. And I owed it to Amanda to at least try, which meant I had to keep finding a way forward.

I sat myself on a bench under a pair of swaying palm trees along the edge of the flagstone pathway to the boat dock.  The cool shade and gentle breeze settled my soul a bit, as I screwed up whatever courage I had left and determined to soldier on, intruder or not.

JP sauntered up from the boat dock, hands in his pockets and a relaxed smile on his face. I gave him mine in return.

“There you are, Jack. Where’d you get off to?”

“Hey, JP. Nowhere in particular. I asked Mr. Napier for a little tour of the island. We just got back. Where are the guys?”

“Sam and Tommy were walking on the beach, last I saw them. Sam’s grilling Tommy about Christine and Tommy’s grilling Sam about you.”

I blanched. “What about me?” I looked around JP to see an empty beach in the distance.

JP smiled wider. “Relax. Nothing bad. Tommy likes you — a lot. He says all the time that Sam hit the jackpot with you.” 

My frown deepened. 

“Hey man, don’t get the wrong idea,” said JP, sitting next to me on the bench. “I know Tommy can be an ass when it comes to wealthy people, but that’s just because he’s had to kowtow to them his whole life. His father’s family is very wealthy, and Tommy’s always felt like the poor relations, you know?”

Surprised, I raised an eyebrow. “No, I didn’t know. I had no idea.”

JP sighed. “Yeah, he doesn’t talk about it much. But I guess his grandparents were pretty upset when Tommy’s father decided he didn’t want to join the family business. Things have been strained ever since. He doesn’t see them much.”

“What is the family business?” I asked. “I thought Paradise Pools was the family business.”

“It’s one of his father’s businesses. His grandparents and uncles run some kind of high finance operation out of California.”

I sighed. “That explains a lot.”

“Explains what?” asked JP.

“Tommy’s concern for Sam and me.”

JP shrugged. “Whatever. I don’t see it. The way Tommy freaks out over people with money…I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I have, believe me,” I replied. I was immediately reminded of Kat, Sam’s sister, and her aversion to my being with Sam when she found out I had money. Thankfully we found a way to move beyond her initial fears for her brother.

“The thing is,” I said. “If Tommy’s extended family has put a lot of negative pressure on his father, and vicariously on him, then I’m sure a ton of resentment has built up over the years. Tommy’s going to want to make sure Sam’s not suffering the same fate from me.”

“No way, Jack. You’re not like that at all.”

I smiled. “Thank you. I certainly hope not. I just want Sam to be happy. He can do whatever he wants with his life. I just want to be there to live it alongside him.”

“I’m pretty sure Tommy gets that. He sees Sam is very happy with you. Hell, we all see it. And can I tell you something?” said JP.

“Sure.”

“I think Tommy’s thinking about finally settling down, because Sam is. He looks up to Sam in a lot of ways, especially when it comes to relationships.”

“Really? That’s cool, I guess.”

“Then there’s Stubbs,” said JP with a soft sigh. “I worry about that boy.”

“He certainly seems to like the ladies,” I replied with a grin, keeping it light. 

“A little too much, don’t you think?”

I glanced sideways at JP. “Why do you say that?” I asked.

He sighed and stretched his long legs out in front of him, resting his hands together at his waist. “I don’t know. He seems content to have all these friendly hook ups with random women, but…isn’t that like a classic recipe for a battered soul or something?”

“Don’t look at me. I’ve only ever been with Sam, so I have no frame of reference to go by,” I replied.

JP turned to me with a stunned expression. “Seriously? Sam was your first?”

“Yep. Hopefully my one and only.”

“Woah. That’s…wow. I didn’t know,” he said, turning back to stare at something far out to sea. “But…didn’t you, like, date or anything?”

I smiled. “JP, I’m like the anti-Stubbs. I’ve been scared of my own shadow all my life. Until Sam helped pull me out of my shell, I could barely speak to people, let alone admit I was interested. Plus, where I come from, being gay could literally get you killed, or at least badly injured. My family has no idea I’m gay, and they certainly don’t know about Sam.”

I could feel JP’s gaze as I kept my eyes on the gentle waves rolling onto the sandy beach. He shifted next to me, flicking his hand at an insect buzzing around his face. 

“Can I ask you something?” he said after an uncomfortable minute of silence between us. I nodded, turning a little to face him. He looked into my eyes for a split second, then turned his gaze back to the water. I waited.

“How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Become…I don’t know…you. Like, accept yourself for who you are.”

“Have I? Some days I’m not so sure,” I replied.

“But you know what I mean, right?”

I sighed. “Yeah, I do. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be cryptic. The truth is, I don’t really know how to answer that. It’s still a work in progress, I think. Everything in my life changed so fast. If it weren’t for Sam, I might still be hiding. I don’t know.”

“So Sam’s been a big part of it, right?”

I smiled. “The biggest, yeah. He makes me feel safe to be me. I think that’s really the key…I never felt safe until Sam more or less pulled me in. He’s got this…overwhelming love, I guess, that challenges me to stand up and be me.”

“He never quits on you, does he?” whispered JP.

As subtle as the changing of the tides, the mood shifted. I suddenly wanted to put my arm around his shoulders and pull him close.

“Sam will never quit on the people he cares about,” I said. 

JP nodded. I waited, letting silence engulf us as he waged an internal war that played out in skirmishes across his face. A single tear dropped and he brushed it away.

“He always knew,” said JP, glancing at me, then quickly looking forward again. “He always knew when I was talking shit, making excuses for being a drunk and a total screw up.” His voice broke, and he struggled to pull himself back in control. “But he never…not once…made me feel…less than. Not once,” he whispered. And the tears fell.

When he slumped forward, fingers pressed against his eyes in a vain attempt to stop the flow, I placed a hand on his back between his shoulders and let it rest there, not moving. He struggled to regain control. I knew that feeling well.

With a deep breath he sat up straighter, and I dropped my hand to the back of the bench behind him. Somewhat more composed, he said, “Sorry, Jack. I didn’t expect it to come out of nowhere like that.”

“Hey, man,” I said softly. “It’s okay. No worries.”

“It’s just…I owe him so much. Both of you,” he said, looking at me. “If it wasn’t for you guys…” His voice caught in his throat and he looked away again.

“JP, it’s okay. You don’t owe us anything, you know that, right?”

He sighed. “Yeah, I know, but…I feel like I at least owe you my story, since you spent all that money on my rehab.”

“I’m happy to listen,” I said. “But you don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. Sam and I are just thrilled you’re doing better and seem so much more relaxed and okay with life.”

“I am, I guess. It’s just…I’m still working through some stuff, and they tell me I’m at the stage where talking about it can help. I feel like I need to…for me, if nothing else. They tell me there’s power in telling my story. The more I drag it out of the dark the less it can hurt me, or some shit like that. I just wish it wasn’t so damn hard still. You’d think after going over and over it for weeks with therapists and total strangers it would be easier by now.”

I simply nodded. “Take your time. There’s no rush. No pressure, JP, I mean it.”

His lips morphed into a fleeting smile as he stared out across the water. “You and Sam…you’re like…you come out of nowhere and change everything.” 

“That’s a good thing, right?” I asked, suddenly worried we had meddled too much into JP’s life.

“Very good, Jack. It’s just…it’s confusing, because I don’t deserve it. I’m not who you think I am.”

I heard the pity in his voice, and I was surprised how angry it made me feel. But I was learning that anger accomplishes nothing good, so I tried for encouraging. “JP…first of all, I think you are a very brave guy who did a very, very hard thing and faced his demons. And from what I can see, my guess is you won that battle. Or mostly, anyway.” 

He glanced sideways at me, then back out to sea. 

I sat forward and twisted to face him head on. “As for you not deserving our help? I don’t want to be rude, but you need to knock that crap off, putting yourself down like that. If Sam were sitting here, he’d kick your ass all the way back to the mainland, and you know it.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said with a sigh, avoiding my eyes. “Old habits die hard. I’m working on it.”

I lived with the same daily struggle to see myself as a good person, able to do good things. I knew how hard it was to stay out of self-pity. Now that I had people in my life who accepted me and believed in me, it was getting easier. I wanted to be that for JP. I sat back on the bench and relaxed, waiting patiently while he collected his thoughts.

“When I was fourteen, my father took me on a summer camping trip with his two brothers and their kids,” said JP. “They must have been planning it for months, and when the time came to go we were all very excited. It would be a chance for us cousins to get together for a whole week. We pretty much only saw each other for birthday parties or Christmas Eve at my grandmother’s house. You met Robbie, right?” I nodded, remembering the skinny kid who had just turned twenty-one and was visiting JP in Hawaii. 

“Robbie was the youngest by far, but the rest of us were about the same age, give or take a year. I remember we split up in different cars and sang stupid songs and told silly jokes the whole ride to the campground a couple of hours away. When we arrived, it took forever just to unload all the shit we brought. Us kids wanted to go swimming in the lake, but no, we had to first put up the tents and set everything up. My Uncle Max was a stickler for everything being just so. We started calling him ‘ScoutMan’ because it was like he read it all in a scouting manual or something. I think he liked the nickname, actually. He was pretty cool about it, anyway.

The first two days were a blast. We practically lived in the lake. There was a floating dock just far enough from shore to make it a challenge to swim to, and far enough from our parents that we could talk shit and cut up and just be kids.” JP smiled. “I learned a few new cuss words on that trip. And my cousin Joe told us all in graphic detail about how he had kissed a girl at his school.”

JP looked out to the ocean, seeing a memory in his mind’s eye. “We were all at that age where girls were now interesting and scary and a total mystery. We were teasing each other about getting hard ons at the worst possible moments, and asking a million questions about sex, even though none of us had done anything but jack off. Cousin Joe suggested a circle jerk, and when we finally figured out what he was talking about, we all pretended to be grossed out by it. I can still see Robbie sitting there on that pontoon dock, all wide-eyed and taking it all in.”

JP stopped talking and took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. I mentally braced myself for what was to come.

“Everything about the trip was perfect. We all had a blast, and my dad even found some local company to rent us a couple of canoes. We took turns paddling around the lake. It was great fun. The kids all slept in one tent, the adults in the other, not that we slept much. Spent half the night making up ghost stories and trying to scare the shit out of each other. Funny, Robbie was the best story teller, if I’m remembering it right.

Anyway, we got to the last night before we had to leave, and that’s when it happened. I went out into the woods a little ways from the campsite to take a piss in private. There were bathrooms — those portable outhouse type things —  but they hadn’t been changed out in a while and were seriously ripe. So I’m standing in front of a tree with my dick in my hand, pissing, and my Uncle Dave steps up behind me. Scared the shit out of me and I peed all over my shorts.”

JP’s jaw was locked tight, his temples throbbing. He rubbed his palms on his shorts and continued.

“He made some lame ass comment about pissing myself. I was furious that he scared me, and started yelling at him. He grabbed me and put a hand over my mouth and sort of pulled me to him to keep me from squirming away. I was tall even then, but he was bigger — and stronger — and I stopped struggling. That’s when I noticed his hands were wandering all over, rubbing my stomach and chest and…lower. I was…confused…and he was whispering in my ear to settle down, everything would be okay.

I remember looking around, first hoping someone could see us and make him stop, then sort of hoping no one could see what he was doing, because I suddenly wanted to cry. I was shaking, and he was still whispering in my ear…fuck, I can still hear his voice, that sickening sweet soft voice. Bastard.” He shook his head as if to silence the vocal reminder.

JP exhaled and fidgeted next to me on the bench, obviously worked up about the memories.

“Are you okay?” I said softly. He looked at me for half a second, then lowered his eyes and looked away.

“Let me get this out, okay?” he whispered. I nodded. He sighed.

“At some point I stopped moving, and I guess he took that as a sign that I was okay with what he was doing. I…I never said a word. I never told him to stop. I just…let him. I was fourteen, and for some reason my dick got hard, and his hand was on it, rubbing through my wet shorts. I was disgusted and excited and so confused. He kept rubbing and…encouraging me. Before I knew what was happening, I came in my shorts and nearly passed out from the shame of it.

When I stopped breathing hard, he let go of me. I refused to turn around and look at him. He asked if I was alright and I didn’t answer. Then he said the damnedest thing. ‘Don’t tell your father. He wouldn’t understand. This is between us.’ Can you believe that shit? Don’t tell my father? Like I was going to talk to my dad about sex. I didn’t plan on telling anyone…ever. And I never did.”

JP stopped again, carefully inhaling and exhaling. I waited.

“I thought I could just ignore it, you know? Pretend it never happened. I mean, what’s the big deal? It’s not like I didn’t do it to myself all the time? So what if my uncle did it to me? Just guys being guys, right? At least that’s what I tried to tell myself.

For a while I was okay. My dick still got hard, and I still jacked off like everyday. Until I asked a girl in my sophomore class to the winter dance. She was gorgeous, and I was lusting after her like a dog in heat. I knew she was into me too, and after three dances she asked if we could leave. 

I was devastated at first. I thought I’d messed up somehow, but if she wanted me to take her home, I was determined to be a gentleman about it. My father must have lectured me for an hour before I left the house that night about how to properly treat a young lady. Well, if he knew what that ‘young lady’ wanted to do with his son, he might have changed his tune.

We got out to my car and she was on me like white on rice. I had never kissed someone and she had her tongue in my mouth in like five seconds of locking the doors. Her hands were all over me, and when she touched my hard dick through my pants I flashed to those woods and my uncle touching me…and I lost it.

I pushed her off so hard her head hit the window. She started screaming at me, and I was yelling at her to stop touching me. Except she wasn’t anymore. But I kept yelling at her to stop, and suddenly all I could see was my Uncle Dave sitting in the passenger seat, sneering at me, and I wanted to hit him so badly. To hurt him and make him stop touching me.”

JP’s hands were opening and closing into fists and he was hitting his thighs. I don’t think he even realized he was doing it. I didn’t know if I should, but I reached out to grab the hand closest to me and held on to it. It worked, and he settled down.

Blowing out a deep breath, he looked down at his hands. “I didn’t hit her, but I absolutely scared the shit out of her. She refused to let me apologize or take her home. She told everyone how I freaked out when she kissed me, making it sound like I had tried to take advantage of her. I never even touched her, and I was saddled with a reputation of a rapist or something. 

After that, no one would have gone out with me, not that I asked. I was too scared to. What if I had another freak out and actually did hit someone? I couldn’t risk it.”

JP sighed heavily and again wiped his open palms on his pants. I had questions, but I stayed silent. He wasn’t finished.

“I stole my first drink from my parent’s liquor cabinet maybe a week after the dance. Something like that. It wasn’t every day, but by the end of the school year I was using my allowance to buy the cheapest alcohol I could find. There was a convenience store about a mile from my house. The owner worked at night, and if I managed to be in there with no other customers, he would sell it to me. I think he felt sorry for me or something. I just didn’t want to feel, period. 

All my friends were pairing up that summer and I was the odd man out. I just couldn’t do it. And then the rumors started. JP’s gay, he doesn’t like girls. JP’s a fag. We always knew it. There was always something off about him.”

He looked sideways at me, suddenly remembering I was sitting next to him. “Oh, shit, Jack. I’m so sorry, man. I shouldn’t have said that.”

I smiled. “It’s okay. I’m fine. Keep talking.”

He sighed again. “I sort of checked out after that. I stayed just on the edge of smashed. I could function, but my grades tanked halfway through the next semester. My dad tried to talk to me, but I avoided him. I think my parents just assumed I was one of those sullen teenage boys going through a phase. 

I got a job the second I turned sixteen so I could buy more booze. The guy at the corner store stopped selling it to me. He figured out I had a problem, even if I didn’t. I paid someone like a hundred dollars for a fake id. I was tall for my age, and I wore my hair long, so I looked older. It worked. I basically stayed buzzed most of the time.

I somehow made it through high school and graduated. No way could I go to college though. Not happening. Too many questions, too many lies to tell. So I worked two jobs and spent all my money on food and hooch. And then I got sloppy drunk one night and everything went to shit.”

JP paused and wiped at his eyes again, but didn’t break down. “My dad…he meant well. I knew he loved me and was just trying to help. But I was so pissed at him for letting his brother…do what he did…and how irrational is that shit? Right? He never even knew it happened, but that didn’t change how I felt. I screamed at him that he never loved me and stormed out. More like stumbled out, really. I can still remember him calling my name as I walked down the street in the dark, leaving everything behind, including my car.

I wandered around for hours that night, finally sobering up. I somehow ended up back home, but I didn’t go in. I thought about it, but decided I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I had my keys in my pocket, so I took my car and left. I found a fleabag motel that I could barely afford and got roaring drunk and passed out.

When I came out of it, it was three days later and all my money was gone and my boss was pissed as hell that I hadn’t shown up to work. I managed to talk him out of firing me and promised it would never happen again.

I made a lot of promises to myself. I wouldn’t drink anymore. I would apologize to my parents and ask to move back home. But then I would look in the mirror and see this damaged, broken guy who would always be alone and never amount to anything looking back at me, and I’d get drunk again.

I ended up getting fired for being drunk on the job, which was so stupid. It was construction, and paid really good money. I was endangering myself and others but I couldn’t, or wouldn’t see it. The foreman did, and sent me packing. Promised to blackball me from every other construction site in the county.

I had too much pride to go home, so I took what little money I had left, sold my car, and flew to Hawaii. I figured I’d get really good and drunk and just walk out into the ocean and keep walking until I didn’t wake up anymore.”

I inhaled sharply and held my breath. JP glanced sideways at me but kept talking.

“I can still remember the waves pushing at my knees and my teeth chattering against the cold. How I was even standing I’ll never know. I would take another step and stop and listen, for what I don’t know. Maybe someone to tell me to stop? No one did.

I woke up on the beach the next morning with a wicked headache and sand in my mouth. I started crying and didn’t stop for two days. I was broke, totally disgusted with myself, homeless and completely alive. I was hurting so bad, but I was alive. I could work with that. I swore off booze for the millionth time and decided to live.

I lasted one day and needed a drink more than life itself. I was about to go into a liquor store and try to steal something when I saw Tommy’s truck parked in the lot next door. Paradise Pools. But I think I only saw the word ‘Paradise’ on the side, and my feet started carrying me over to the guy standing there, eating a sandwich. He took one look at me, offered me half his sandwich and a job.

Tommy was patient and taught me the ropes. I was good at it, and being in the sun all day helped. I stopped drinking every day, only on weekends when I wasn’t working and would get super lonely. I met Stubbs and some of the other guys that came and went, and I was making it work. I called my parents and told them where I was and I was doing fine, and for me, I guess I was. 

Until I met a girl on the beach with Stubbs one Sunday afternoon. I chatted with her for a few minutes while Stubbs was hitting on her friend. I excused myself and went back to our spot on the beach. Stubbs came back a few minutes later hopping on his toes like he always does and begging me to go out with him and the girls. I guess the one he liked wouldn’t go without her friend coming along. 

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell him why. I wanted to. I wanted to so badly. To his credit he didn’t call me names or anything, and I think maybe he took them both out by himself. All I know is I went back to my apartment and got wasted. That was the first time I called in sick to Tommy the next day.

By the time Sam showed up, I had it back under control and carefully avoided the subject of dating. Sam became another good friend, just like Tommy and Stubbs, and I started to feel more…I don’t know…normal?

Fast forward to when you met Sam. My cousin Robbie, now all grown up, calls and wants to spend his birthday with me. I should have told him no, but he begged me. Said he needed to escape his parents or he’d go nuts. So I caved and said sure.

At first it was fun, like old times. He’s funny and carefree and it felt good to be with family. But that last night, oh man, Jack, that was some serious shit. He started drinking hard, saying he didn’t want to go back home, and there I was, wasted myself, trying to get him to stop. He started mumbling something about his dad and his face was all twisted up and then he started swinging his arms around and knocked over some glasses. Made a huge mess.

I managed to get him out of the bar and we tried to walk it off, but he kept leaning on me and at one point he was crying, then he was hitting me and I was trying to hold him off and he ended up clocking me upside the head. That sobered us both the hell up.

He started apologizing all over himself, and I wasn’t really following, and then he said something about his father and how he gets all handsy and how he wants to kill him and I put it together and suddenly I knew — dear old Uncle Dave had been messing with Robbie, too.”

“Oh my god,” I said softly.

“It all came back in a rush — the anger, the rage on the inside. It was like it just happened, even though over ten years had passed. And the look in Robbie’s eyes. I saw red. I dragged him to my truck and we took off. I was outta my mind. I think maybe I thought I was driving over to Uncle Dave’s house, I don’t know. I just knew I needed to get to him fast so I could look him in the eye before I strangled the sonofabitch. I never saw the car coming at us. I heard the crunch, heard Robbie’s scream, and then I blacked out.”

JP exhaled and sat back. “And then you and Sam saved my sorry ass, and here I am in the freaking Caribbean telling you my sad story and don’t you dare feel sorry for me, Jack. I mean it. I’m responsible for my own shit.” He was staring hard at me, lips pressed in a thin, determined line.

“Holy crap, JP. That’s…horrible. Want me to have Ben shoot him?” 

He snorted and smiled. “If only he could. The bastard’s behind bars now, though I’m sure he’ll weasel his way out eventually. Scum always rises to the surface.”

“What happened? Is Robbie okay?”

“I don’t know yet. He’s in therapy. My stint in rehab opened Pandora’s box of shit for the whole family. Once I revealed my root problem to the rehab counselors, they insisted on me telling my dad. I only agreed if I could do it in person, and there would be doctors present so they could drug him or something, because I knew he would try to finish what I had wanted to for a decade. Had I known my uncle was messing with Robbie, too, I would have killed him, Jack, no question. Robbie didn’t deserve that shit.”

“Neither did you,” I said without thinking, resting my hand on his shoulder again.

JP looked at me with a weird expression, then sighed. “Yeah, I know, but for a lot of years I really thought it was my fault. Maybe if I had struggled more, if I had told him no, if my teenage dick hadn’t wanted it. He really messed me up. When I finally told my dad what he did, he freaked the fuck out, like I knew he would. He was so pissed at me for not telling him, and the counselors were telling him that wasn’t helpful and he was telling them where they could stick their help and then…and then…he looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. The broken me.” JP’s voice caught in his throat.

“What did he do?” I asked.

“He opened his arms, and I ran into them like I was six years old again. I swear if he could have, he would’ve have lifted me up to his neck like he used to when I was a kid. He started crying and apologizing for not understanding, and then I was crying and apologizing for not telling him and the therapists were crying and it was beautiful and embarrassing and then it was over.”

“And Robbie?”

“Oh man, from what my dad told me, it was rough. Apparently he called my mom and asked her to reach out to my Aunt Doris and have her and Robbie come over to their place and to not ask questions and make it sound real casual like. Which of course set my mother off on a tirade of questions and wanting to know how I was and all that. He got her focused again and she made the call. The therapists at the clinic had already prepared me for the fact I would have to give whoever permission to tell my story if they were going to be able to help Robbie. So I told my Dad to do whatever he felt he needed to, and he did.

Once my aunt and Robbie were safe at my parents house, my dad told them about me. Robbie broke down immediately saying it was all his fault and how sorry he was I was locked up in rehab and he’d be a good boy and…yeah, it was awful. Like he regressed into a small helpless child instead of a twenty-one year old man. Then my aunt called the police. They arrested Dave’s ass and when the prosecution presented a few choice facts to the judge, she threw him in jail with no bail, even though he pleaded not guilty. Not guilty, my ass.”

“Will you have to testify?”

“Probably. I hope so. I can’t wait to see that fucker’s face when I tell the whole world what he did. I only hope Robbie can do the same. I don’t know the details, and I don’t want to know, but I’m pretty sure what he did to me was nothing compared to what Robbie suffered. Shit, Jack. If I had only known. I was so selfish.”

“You were scared, and you were in self-preservation mode. I get it, believe me. At least you and Robbie are finally getting the help you need, and you will heal from this.”

He looked away again. “I don’t know. Sometimes the scars are too deep. I can live with what he did to me. I won’t give the bastard the satisfaction of taking one more minute from me. But Robbie…I don’t know. I hope he can recover.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” I asked. “You know Sam’s gonna want to do whatever he can. And you have to tell him your story, JP. I know you don’t want to keep telling it, but I can’t do it justice. It’s your story, and you’re right, there is power in telling it.”

JP sighed. “I know, and I will. I wanted to tell you first. Sort of a practice run. How’d I do?” he asked. I swear he was grinning. I wanted to throw up, but I wouldn’t do it in front of him.

“You did fine. I can’t…um…look, I know you don’t want pity, so I’m not going to say I’m sorry, but I am. What you did…you did it afraid, JP. You faced the fear and pushed through it. You can’t quit. You gotta keep on pushing. You’ll need to help Robbie do it afraid, too. You can do that now.”

“You really think so?” he asked.

“I know so. You’ve been in the same pit he’s in now, and you know the way out. So show him. Show him what his father did doesn’t have to define him. I know I’m making it sound like no big deal, and I know it is. It’s huge, it’s deep, it’s positively horrible. But he can survive this. He can heal, and you can help him. And we’ll help. Anything your family needs, you’ve got it.”

He looked at me with a grave expression. “I honestly don’t know how to help Robbie, but I’ll let you know if something comes up,” said JP with a heavy sigh. “I need to concentrate on my own sobriety. Right now, it’s all I’ve got.”

I studied his profile. Such a different man from the one I first met on the beach in Hawaii. He was a survivor, but at what cost? Would he stay sober? Would he ever have the opportunity for a relationship, free and clear of the damage his uncle had unleashed?

My own struggles with resisting a victim mentality felt small in comparison to what JP had endured. Finding self-confidence when life had conspired to rip it right out of your soul was a difficult challenge on the best of days. Without it, relationships were a minefield of self-doubts, and anyone who dared to love us must carefully navigate that emotional labyrinth. Nobody said it would be fair, I guess.

Hard as it was, I now knew finding internal assurance of personal worthiness was a ton easier when surrounded by people who truly cared about me. Their confidence in me helped bridge the gap in my own. JP needed the same.

“Your sobriety is critical, JP, but it’s not all you’ve got. You have us — me, Sam, Tommy, Stubbs…we’ve got your back. And your family…well, I know things are a mess right now, but they obviously love you and care about you. You’re not alone. It’s okay to lean on us,” I said.

He sighed again. “I know, it’s just…it’s still so hard.” He turned his face away as he struggled with his emotions.

“It is hard. It’s hard for me, too. Learning to trust the nice things people say about me sounds so foreign to the voice inside my head sometimes. You can ask Sam, I still struggle with believing I can be a good person.”

He twisted to face me. “For real?”

I nodded. “Yeah, for real. Not all the time, not like it was, but yeah, I still have days where I wonder, what’s the point? I’m not strong enough. I’m never gonna be good enough, I’m never gonna do anything worthwhile. Nobody really likes me, they just tolerate me. It’s like a song repeating itself in my brain, over and over.”

“But that’s not true,” he said.

“I know that — I do — but the song still plays every now and then to torment me. I don’t know, maybe it always will. Maybe there’s no way to shut it off forever. Something happened last night that turned it back on and it’s been taunting me in the background all day. Part of me knows it’s not true, but it sure seems like it is sometimes.”

JP swallowed hard. “I know that song, or at least one just like it. Alcohol was the only way I could silence the voices.”

“And now?”

He snorted. “I’m an alcoholic. I still want to drink every day, Jack. I want to drink until I forget everything.” I inhaled sharply. 

“But,” he continued. “I don’t want to die, and that’s the only realistic end to being a drunk. I mean, I could have killed Robbie in that accident, and living with something like that…I couldn’t do it. No, I want to live, and do something with my life. I just have no idea what.”

“Will you go back to cleaning pools with Tommy and Stubbs?” I asked.

He gazed out to ocean lapping at the edges of the beach. “I know Tommy would take me back, but I don’t think so. I was in Hawaii to escape my life, not live it. No, I’ll probably crash at my parents’ house for a while until I get my shit together.” It was his life, but it sounded defeatist to my ears.

“Would you want to come work for my company?” I asked.

He smiled. “Like I’m qualified to work in a finance company, or whatever it is that you do. I barely finished high school, Jack. I appreciate the offer, but you’ve done enough for me already. I can’t ask you for more.”

“You aren’t asking, I’m offering.”

He made a face. “Honestly, I don’t see myself ever working in an office. My dad said I could come work at his office, but it’s just not me. I like being outside, working with my hands. Why I loved cleaning pools. And being out in the sun. Felt like I was accomplishing something, I don’t know.”

“Sounds like you know yourself pretty good to me. Are you set on living with your parents in California?”

He turned to me with raised eyebrows. “Why?”

I shrugged. “Just trying to understand the options.”

“Options for what?” he asked.

“Like whether you would consider moving to Denver? Or maybe St. Louis?”

“What are you saying?”

“Well, you know Sam and I are moving to St. Louis for school. We have a house there, and with our class schedules and my work responsibilities, it would be a huge stretch to take care of everything ourselves. I asked Charles and Maggie to come with us, but they’re not so keen on the idea. They’ll do it, if I push, but now I’m thinking if you really want to work outside, you’d be doing Sam and me a huge favor.”

The look in his eyes said he was going to reject the idea. He started to say something, then shut his mouth and looked back toward the ocean. I noticed his temples bulging in and out as he stewed.

“Why would you trust me with your stuff? I’m an alcoholic. What if I relapse?” he asked.

“What if you don’t?”

He glanced sideways at me, then exhaled deeply. “What would I be doing?”

“We’ll have to work out the details, but you’d be the caretaker, so you’d be taking care of the house, the grounds…anything that needed attention.”

“You mean like cleaning and laundry and shit like that?”

“Well, yeah, I guess so. I  suppose Sam and I can do our own laundry if that’s not cool with you…”

“No, no. I’m cool with it. I actually like to clean stuff. Would you need me to run errands or shop? I don’t know much about cooking, but I could learn, I guess.”

“So does this mean you’ll at least think about it?”

“What does Sam think?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him. Here they come now,” I said, as Tommy, Stubbs and Sam walked down the path toward us. 

I stood up and Sam pulled me into a big hug, lifting me off my feet. He stared into my eyes, my toes dangling over the flagstone pathway. “Mmmm…I missed you,” he whispered as his lips brushed mine in a soft kiss.

“Get a room,” said Tommy. Sam gave him a look and smiled. Tommy smiled back. Friends forever, I hoped.

“What have you been up to?” JP asked Stubbs. “Haven’t seen you all afternoon.”

Stubbs grunted and jutted his chin toward the gleaming white cruiser moored at the dock in the distance. “Spent some time with Felicia,” he said. “Did you know she’s that Napier guy’s granddaughter?”

“Really?” I asked. 

“Yeah. He’s got her here on some sort of internship thing. She’s studying at this big deal institute in Europe for the hotel business.”

“Why’s she working the boat then?” asked Tommy.

Stubbs shrugged. “Has to spend time working in every part of the island, according to grandpa.”

Sam looked at me but I said nothing, mostly because I didn’t know anything. And I was seriously wondering why Mr. Napier would have neglected to tell me.

“Hey, isn’t that the security guy? What’s he doing with the kid?” asked Tommy, drawing our attention back toward the dock again.

The second boat had just arrived, presumably from St. Thomas. Spencer Madigan was dragging one of the young men we met upon arrival by the arm, and he wasn’t coming along quietly. As a teenager, he was no match for Spencer, but what he lacked in physical strength he made up for in verbal outrage. 

“Let me go. You’re hurting my arm,” he protested.

It looked like Spencer was seriously smashing his arm the way his meaty hand was compressing the kid’s bicep.

“Is something wrong?” I asked as they approached.

Spencer glared at me, while the kid silently pleaded for my intervention.

“Stay out of this, Mr. Schaeffer. It doesn’t concern you,” Spencer growled.

Just then the boy gave a mighty pull and managed to escape the security man’s clutches. Spencer lunged for his other arm, managing to capture him by the wrist. The boy screamed like he was ripping his arm out of the socket. His reaction stunned us all, and Spencer let him go out of reflex. That’s when I saw the deep bruising on the boy’s wrist. Before anyone could say or do anything, the boy took off running up the path toward the Guest House.

Spencer’s face reddened, whether in a rage or embarrassment at losing his prisoner, I couldn’t be sure. Either way, he was pissed. And from the way he was staring at me, I figured I was the target. I had had enough of it. 

I looked at Sam. His eyes told me he had too.

“What the hell is going on, Madigan?” asked Sam.

Spencer shook his head. “I said stay out of it. It’s an island, the little thief won’t get far.”

“Thief?” I said.

“Shit,” said Spencer with a deep sigh. “Screw it, you might as well know.”

“Know what?” asked Tommy.

“Yeah, what’s going on?” said JP.

Spencer looked from me to the guys and back again, trying to decide what to say. “Please tell us what’s happening,” I said calmly.

Resigned to it, Spencer told us. “We’ve had some petty thievery on the island for several months now. At first it was little things like knick knacks and picture frames. Mr. Napier said to not worry about it. But then the guests started missing personal things. Mostly small stuff — a tie tack, pair of cufflinks, maybe an earring or two. Mr. Napier smoothed it over with the guests, while I started digging. This morning I followed that kid, Yari, to a pawn shop on St. Thomas when Paolo gave him a lunch break. Caught him trying to unload a Rolex watch reported missing by a guest two weeks ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if he and his brother Aman are in it together.”

Sam moved closer and put his hand in the small of my back. Judging by the bruise on his wrist, I was pretty sure Yari was our midnight intruder. But my gut was telling me it wasn’t that simple. Yari may well have been a thief, but something didn’t add up, and I was determined to get to the bottom of it.

“I think it’s time we all had a chat with Mr. Napier. Mr. Madigan, please come with us.” I started moving up the pathway toward the Guest House. I heard whispers between the guys behind me as I marched away. Sam made short work of reaching my side and practically pushing his hand against my back.

Through the front entrance, around the grand staircase, and down the back hallway, I lead the little parade straight to Mr. Napier’s office door. Rapping my knuckles hard on the door, we heard a sharp, “Enter”.

We weren’t the first to arrive. Yari and his brother Aman were seated in front of Mr. Napier’s desk. They jumped up and scrambled behind Mr. Napier, who stood at his desk. The boys were obviously terrified, judging by their fearful glances at Spencer.

Mr. Napier closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is there a reason for this interruption, Mr. Madigan? As you can see I’m busy at the moment.”

“I was on my way here to hand that one over to you,” said Spencer, pointing at Yari, who slinked further back against the wall and held his wrist gingerly. He glanced at me for one second, then looked at his brother, who put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Caught him red-handed pawning that missing watch,” said Spencer.

“I see,” said Mr. Napier, pinching his lips together.

“Maybe we should go,” said Tommy, and Stubbs nodded.

“No, stay,” I said. “I’m through with secrets.”

“Secrets?” mumbled Stubbs.

“Is that what you wish, Mr. Schaeffer?” asked Mr. Napier. I nodded. “Am I to understand that you are now aware of our little…problem?”

“Yes. Spencer told us about the thefts. Maybe we can help,” I said, “considering I’m responsible for Yari’s bruised wrist.”

“What the hell is going on, Jack?” said Tommy, never one to mince words. Sam gave him a look. He started to say something else, but backed down.

“Care to elaborate, Mr. Schaeffer?” asked Mr. Napier. Yari and Aman’s eyes were now huge orbs staring at me. Yari rubbed his wrist again.

I took a deep breath. “Last night, I woke up in the middle of the night. I saw a shadow on the veranda, and when whoever it was made a move to open the door to our bedroom, I slammed the door against his wrist. I skinned my knuckles in the process.” I held up my battered digits for all to see. There were mumblings behind me.

Mr. Napier held my gaze. “You didn’t think to report this incident to me this afternoon?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t know anything, and…well…I wasn’t sure I would be believed.” Sam’s hand pressed harder into my back. He never doubted me, and right now that meant everything in the world to me.

“I see,” said Mr. Napier. “Mr. Madigan, do you have anything to add?”

“I don’t know anything about last night, but I do know these two are the thieves who have been stealing, and I should take them to the authorities.”

“I believe you already have,” said Mr. Napier as he sat in his chair. The murmurings in the room escalated. Yari and Aman shook with fright behind Mr. Napier, scooting closer to his chair for cover. I realized they couldn’t be much older than twelve or thirteen, facing serious charges without a parent present.

“Well, Mr. Schaeffer, what shall we do with them?”

“Hold up,” said Tommy. “And don’t give me that look, Sam. Why is he asking Jack what to do?”

I sighed heavily and turned to face him. “Because, Tommy, Calloway Island belongs to me. I inherited it when I inherited the Franklin Family Trust.”

“You’ve got to be…”

“Easy, Tommy,” said Sam softly. “We talked about this.” Tommy looked at him, exhaled, and ran his hand through his hair, then nodded and looked at me, holding up his hands in surrender.

“Okay…it’s your show,” he said.

“You alright?” I asked him. He gave me a weak grin. He was trying.

Turning back to Mr. Napier, I said, “What can you tell me about all this?”

“Well, it would appear that my office has become the island confessional this afternoon. Why don’t you have a seat?” he said, indicating a chair with a wave of his hand. I sat. Sam remained standing behind my chair. 

“Young Aman here called me while we were having tea with Mrs. Petit to tell me he knew who our petty thief was. Imagine my surprise when he confessed.” He paused to let that bit of information sink in. “Now, imagine my further surprise when Yari comes flying in a moment ago, also confessing to the thefts, and making wild accusations of abuse from Mr. Madigan.”

Spencer snorted and switched to leaning on his other arm against the wall. Mr. Napier pinched his lips into a thin, frustrated line. Clearly the two did not see eye to eye on the matter, but that was a conflict for another time.

“Did they say why they took things?” I asked.

“I was poised to ask that very question when you arrived. Shall we continue?” I nodded and Mr. Napier took over.

“Now, boys, come out from behind me and stand over here by the desk. That’s it. Stand up straight.” They did their best to come to attention, but it was obvious they were still scared. I wanted to hug them. 

“Very well,” said Mr. Napier. “First, some background. Yari and Aman Browne are brothers, which explains the resemblance. Dr. Bastian Forde runs an orphanage on St. John island. Yari and Aman are his wards and have been since their parents passed away in a boating accident when they were wee lads. As he can only care for them until they turn eighteen, he inquired if I might find a place for them here on Calloway where they could learn a trade and therefore be more employable when they come of age. I agreed, and in exchange for room and board and a small stipend, they have worked with us for nearly a year now, with nary a complaint.”

“Except for nicking the odd bauble and bead,” muttered Spencer. I gave him a look and he had the nerve to grin.

Mr. Napier pressed his lips into a thin line again. “Yes, and that is the crossroads where we find ourselves at the moment.”

“May I ask them some questions?” I said. Mr. Napier nodded, then spoke to the boys.

“Right, lads, you will answer the gentleman’s questions truthfully, please,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” they whispered in unison, still trembling where they stood.

“Take a breath, boys. It’s going to be okay,” I said. They looked at each other and settled just a bit. “Since you’ve already confessed to taking the stuff, will you tell me why you did it?”

Yari looked to Aman, who seemed to be the oldest. “Begging your pardon, sir, but we needed the money,” he said.

“What on earth for?” asked Mr. Napier. “Your every need is provided here, is it not?”

“Not for us, sir. For Evangeline.”

“Evangeline? Who is Evangeline?” asked Mr. Napier.

“She’s our friend at the orphanage. Dr. Forde says she’s real bad sick, and he doesn’t have the money to buy the medicine she needs. The old medicine used to work but it don’t anymore. Please, sir, she can’t breathe without her medicine.” They were both near tears.

“Does she have asthma?” I asked. 

They nodded. “Yes, sir, that’s what Dr. Forde calls it.”

“Has he said anything to you about this?” I said to Mr. Napier.

“Not a word. I had no idea.”

I would never condone stealing as way to solve a problem, but clearly the boys thought they were trying to help in a life or death situation. I turned to Sam.

He smiled. “You’ve got this, little man. Trust yourself.” I wanted to kiss him, but now was not the time or place. I stood up and faced the boys.

“Yari, Aman, you know stealing is wrong, don’t you?” They nodded. “And we could turn you over to the authorities as Mr. Madigan said?”

“Please, sir, we’re sorry. We didn’t take big things, just little stuff maybe people not miss,” said Yari.

“Whether or not they would miss it is not the point. You can’t be stealing things. It’s against the law, and it’s not right.” They looked at each other and were quiet.

“Now, I know you did it to help your friend, and that’s something in your favor. It doesn’t excuse the thefts, but it does explain them. Mr. Napier, do you have a list of everything of value that has been taken?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Very good. Then here’s what I suggest. I’ll make good on the lost items taken from the guests, as best we can. Mr. Madigan, didn’t you say you caught Yari here at a pawn shop?”

“Yeah, what’s your point?”

“My point is that some of the stolen items may still be there. I want someone to go tomorrow and find out. Anything they have on Mr. Napier’s list I’m authorizing should be redeemed at whatever price and returned here. Anything else, we’ll have to locate elsewhere.”

“So they just get off, scot free?” said Spencer.

I turned to Mr. Napier, who waited for my response. “He has a point,” I said. “I’m thinking extra chores and maybe an adjustment in their stipend for an appropriate period of time. Do you agree?” He nodded.

“Mr. Napier, I will leave it in your capable hands to sort out the stolen items and their return to their rightful owners. And as for you two,” I said, turning to the young men. “Let this be a lesson you never forget. Stealing is never the right choice. If you need help, ask. And if the person you ask can’t, or won’t, help, then ask someone else.”

“Does this mean we not go to jail?” asked Yari.

“It’s the work house with Mrs. Petit for you lot,” said Mr. Napier with a smile.

They both looked at me, eyes wide. “Thank you, sir,” said Aman.

Yari nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re both welcome. And, Yari?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I’m sorry I hurt your arm.”

His eyes widened even further. “It’s okay. My fault.”

“Here, let me look at it,” said Sam, reaching for his arm. 

Aman took two steps closer to me and whispered, “You said we should ask for help, right?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Could you…can you help our friend get her medicine?” His eyes were brimming with tears.

“Yes, Aman, we’re gonna do everything we can to help her, I promise.”

He sniffed and nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

“Boys, I think you should head back to your room and await instructions from Mrs. Petit,” said Mr. Napier.

“Yes, sir,” they said, making a speedy exit. 

“Is his arm okay?” I asked Sam as the boys’ footsteps in the hallway clattered through the door they left open behind them.

“Yeah, I think so. Bruised, but nothing broken. He’ll feel it for a few days.”

“Serves him right, the little bugger,” said Spencer.

“Mr. Madigan!” said Mr. Napier harshly.

“Call me old-fashioned, but you do the crime, you should do the time,” he said.

“They’re kids!” I said, spinning in his direction.

“Doesn’t matter. They’re thieves. They took things from your guests, Mr. Schaeffer. I would think your guests’ right to privacy and protection of their property would trump whatever sob story you’re gullible enough to believe.”

I heard several sharp intakes of breath around me, but I focused on his unforgiving eyes. Taking a few steps to stand in front of him, face-to-face, I tamped down my rising anger and intentionally softened my voice. “Technically, they are guilty of committing a serious crime. Technically, they probably do deserve jail time under the law. All that is true. But will justice truly be served? Or will throwing them in jail be the same as just throwing them away altogether? They have no one but the children in that orphanage and Dr. Forde who cares about them. Why can’t we care, too? Why shouldn’t mercy triumph over judgement in this case?”

He sneered at me. “Figures you’d go soft. Had you pegged first I laid eyes on you.”

“That’s enough, Mr. Madigan,” warned Mr. Napier.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked at the same time.

He leaned into my face. “Underneath, all you gays are weak and can’t deal with the hard truths. You should slide back under a rock and let us real men handle the tough stuff,” he said.

Behind me Sam, Tommy, Stubbs and JP closed ranks. I felt it like a burst of energy shooting up my spine.

“Mr. Madigan! You have gone too far,” said Mr. Napier. 

Spencer glared at him for a second, then turned his eyes back to mine. I stared into the same disgust I saw in my brother’s eyes the night he tried to kill me. Only this time my knees were strong and my back was straight. Sam’s breath on the back of my neck fueled my fire.

“I am far from weak, Mr. Madigan. I made the tough call today. I weighed the balance of two young lives versus replacing a few stolen items. Three lives, actually, because somewhere out there is a little girl who struggles to breathe while you want to stand here and fool yourself into thinking you’re a big, strong man with the bigger dick. Well, sir, I guess you win, because you ARE a dick. I’m done dealing with this shit, and I’m done dealing with you. You have one hour to collect your things and get the fuck off my island. Is that strong enough for you?”

He didn’t flinch. I didn’t either. The more I stared into his eyes, the stronger my confidence grew. Sam touched the small of my back, and I smiled. I win.

“You heard the man, time to go,” said Tommy. Stubbs stepped around me and pushed between us. Spencer looked at him and caved. He slid around Stubbs and left without saying another word.

“Should I follow him?” asked Stubbs.

“Let him go,” said Sam, wrapping me in a tight hug. 

Mr. Napier grabbed his phone and called down to the boat dock to let them know Mr. Madigan would need immediate passage to St. Thomas. What he did after that, I didn’t care.

Hanging up the phone, Mr. Napier sat behind his desk with a deep sigh. “My deepest apologies, Mr. Schaeffer. I had hoped to spare you this travesty.”

I leaned back into Sam’s arms, not wanting to give up the contact just yet. “It wasn’t your fault, Mr. Napier. None of it was. I’m just glad we got to the bottom of the thefts. Will you do me a huge favor?”

“Of course,” he replied.

“Please call Dr. Forde regarding the girl’s medical needs and let Todd Martin in my office know what he says. Please stress to him whatever she needs, she gets, no questions asked, okay? And tell him I will have my assistant reach out next week for some details about his orphanage. Maybe we can be of more help there, as well.”

Mr. Napier sat back and pushed his palms together, fingers pointed up under his chin. “You are a remarkable young man, Mr. Schaeffer.”

“I’ll say,” said JP.

“That’s our Jack,” said Tommy. “Seriously, dude, way to banish that tool. And holy shit, you really own this whole island? Why didn’t you say so?”

I gave him a look and he smiled. “You got any other surprises up your sleeve, like your very own space shuttle or something? Maybe a submarine you’re hiding out in the cove?”

I laughed. “I’m not James Bond. I don’t do space or underwater.” Sam squeezed me tighter as held his arms wrapped around my chest. Stubbs was looking at me funny.

“What is it?” I said.

“So if you’re really the owner of the island, can we seriously talk about creating a better swimming pool out there?”

Sam laughed in my ear. “He thought you’d never ask.”

An hour later we were all gathered around a table in the cafe, enjoying barbeque ribs and chicken, chins dripping with the tangy sauce Chef Marcel created. I was surprised I had any appetite after all of the afternoon’s anxieties, but I was famished. And those ribs were falling off the bone and right into my mouth. Yum.

“So, what crazy shit can we expect tomorrow, Jack?” asked Tommy.

I grunted and kept gnawing on my ribs.

“Leave him alone,” said Sam, but he was smiling, rib sauce smeared across his left cheek. I wanted to lick it off. Maybe Marcel could spare an extra bottle?

“Relax, Sam, it’s cool. It’s just, you know, with all the excitement around here, it might get a little boring if there’s no mystery or problem to solve,” said Tommy.

“My big problem is how I’m supposed to fit in my clothes after this weekend,” said JP, pushing back from the table. “That was insanely delicious.”

 “What are you staring at out there?” Tommy asked Stubbs, who had been gazing out the window throughout the meal and not really participating in the conversation.

“Nothing,” he replied.

“Un huh,” said Tommy. “”You’re looking for that boat. Felicia’s fine. They’ll be back soon.” Stubbs smiled to himself and grabbed another piece of chicken.

“So Spencer’s gone?” said JP. 

“Yep. Packed up his stuff in three boxes and a big ass suitcase. I saw him get on the boat,” said Sam.

“Good riddance. Hey, grab a glass, guys,” said Tommy. Everyone held up a water glass. “To Jackson Schaeffer, the richest, most awesome badass I know.”

“Here, here!” echoed the rest of the guys. I blushed.

“Seriously, Jack. I’m impressed,” said Tommy. “I know I was a jerk about the money thing, but I get it now. What you did today was incredible. I hope those kids know how lucky they are to have you step in like you did. You best do right by this one, Samuel.”

Sam laughed. “I will…Thomas.”

Contrary to Tommy’s prediction, the rest of our weekend passed with no more drama. We saw Yari and Aman at different times working hard. At one point, Sam and I interrupted them cleaning the pool to chat a little. Despite their short career as petty thieves, they were both very polite and respectful, and from what I could see, relatively diligent in their chores. Sam even showed them a trick to make cleaning the pool easier.

They did have ample time to play, which of course Mrs. Petit complained only gave them opportunity for mischief. But they were just kids, really. Mr. Napier assured me one of the Calloway Island boats took them back to visit their friends at the orphanage regularly.

Sam asked the boys how they had managed to get up onto the veranda without using the fire escape. Apparently there were two trees on the opposite side of the Guest House situated in such a way they could climb the one, jump to the second, then leap to the veranda railing. I would be speaking to Mr. Napier about some much needed pruning.

I also suggested he invite Dr. Forde and the children from the orphanage for a day of fun on Calloway Island. I’m not sure he was excited about that idea.

On Saturday afternoon, I took Sam for a walk into the interior of the island, back toward the staff housing. The day was hot, so the sporadic shade of the swaying palm trees overhead helped shield my already burned neck.

“You put more sunscreen on this, didn’t you?” asked Sam, lightly touching it as we stood on the side of the path. Kathryn Hale waved as she rode past on a golf cart. I was wishing we had chosen to ride instead of walk. The slight upward incline of the path was killing my legs.

“You could kiss it and make it feel better,” I said, twisting to face Sam’s grin.

“How ‘bout I just kiss your face instead.”

“Mmmm…works for me,” I mumbled into his lips. The kiss intensified, and our hands started roaming. Sam squeezed my ass and growled into my throat.

“Want you so bad,” he whispered, looking into the foliage for a private place.

I shook my head. “Nun huh, I’m not going in there with you. There could be snakes or man-eating spiders or who knows what.”

“Fine. Want to go back to the room?”

I kissed him again, and his tongue wasted no time invading my mouth. A hand slipped inside the back of my shorts and explored the crease of my ass. I stood on tiptoe to give him better access while I devoured his lips. When a finger grazed my hole, I whimpered and deepened the kiss.

Suddenly the hand was gone and Sam pulled away from my lips, leaving me a little dizzy. A golf cart pulled to a stop next to us.

“Would you gentlemen care for a lift?” asked Mrs. Petit. I introduced her to Sam, who of course charmed her immediately. She drove us back to the guest house and left us by the front entrance.

“My goodness, what a refreshing change in the air today. I wonder what it could be?” she said, her eyes smiling at mine. “You boys have a lovely afternoon.”

“Thanks for the ride,” said Sam as she pulled away with a delicate wave.

“You think she saw us kissing?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I doubt she would care. I think she’s just happy Spencer Madigan has been shown the door. Even Mr. Napier was smiling this morning when he made his rounds. You did good yesterday. Real good.”

“It helped having you at my back. Thank you for that. And for believing me about the intruder. It made all the difference.”

He nodded. “We really didn’t get to talk much last night, what with Stubbs twisting your ear over building a new pool and JP sharing his horrible story with me. I knew he was in trouble, but I did not see that coming. You think he’ll be okay?”

“I think so, but only time will tell. He’s got to work his program, go to meetings, and keep up with the therapy. In time, it should get easier. Are you okay that I offered to have him live with us in St. Louis?”

“Sure, if it can help him get on his feet. It will be cool to have him around. I just want him to be happy, and free to be whatever he wants to be. If doing our laundry floats his boat, fine by me. I’m not doing it. I hate laundry,” he said with a grin.

I groaned. “I know. It’s load after load after never-ending load.”

He grinned. “I’ve got a load you might like,” he said, grabbing his crotch.

I blushed. “You are a very bad boy, Sam Wainwright.”

He leaned in next to my ear. “Come with me, and I’ll show you just how bad I can be.”

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