“It hasn’t changed since the last time I was here.”

“This looks like the set of a slasher movie. Did you toss the bodies of poor unsuspecting vacationers in the lake when you were done with them?”

I roll my eyes. “The only thing that’s died in here are probably some mice, and a lot of flies.” At least judging from the extensive network of cobwebs lining the ceiling, almost like insulation. “I used to come here when I was a teenager and wanted to escape the world. I’d bring sleeping bags—not so I could sleep here, but the mattresses are foam covered in plastic and not very comfortable.”

“What did you do when you were here? Is this, like, a teenager love shack? Did you bring your boyfriend here?”

I snort. “No. I came here alone. I was the only one who knew about it. And I used to read or write in a journal. Very typical teenage-girl things.”

“Huh.” He tucks his hands in his pockets. “Are there lights in this place?”

I chuckle. “No, Van. No lights. This is as rustic as it gets out here. Makes my trailer look like a luxury resort, huh?” There’s bite in my words, mostly because I’m still miffed that his friend called me trailer trash.

“Your trailer is retro.”

I give him a look that he probably can’t see thanks to the lack of lighting in here. “There’s duct tape holding some of the windows together.”

“Have you seen Bee’s cottage? When I first got here, I almost fell through the deck.”

“I guess that explains the hammering at ten at night.”

“I figured I should fix it before someone got a board in the face.”

We listen to the rain batter the roof. Drops fall from the ceiling onto the top of the bunk bed, which explains the water pooling there. It’s musty and dank, but at least it’s mostly dry.

I pull out a chair and run a finger across the seat. It’s covered in a thick layer of dust, but I’m already wearing sand from the beach and this outfit is destined for the wash, so I drop into it anyway.

He pulls out the other chair and makes a face but sits down. “What’s the deal with that Tucker guy? The one in real estate. You two a thing?”

“He’s my high school ex. I’d rather drink shots of vinegar than be in a thing with him again.”

Van props his elbows on the table and folds his hands together so he can rest his chin on them. “So he’s local?”

“Yeah. As local as they get.”

He nods. “I think I might remember him from when I used to visit in the summers. Maybe I saw him around town? Or at the beach parties. Like this one.”

“It’s likely. He went to a lot of them.”

He tips his head to the side. “With you?”

“Not usually.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm, what?” The way he’s looking at me is unnerving.

“I find that interesting, is all. So there’s no chance you’re getting back together with him?”

“Why would you ask me that?”

“Just curious, I guess. He was once your type.”

“Well, he’s not anymore.” I can’t tell if he’s trying to push my buttons or what right now.

He nods once and looks away, eyes skimming over the cabin before they land on me. “That’s good. You deserve better than that jackass.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have to know you to know it’s the truth. Besides, Grammy Bee always had nice things to say about you, and I trust her judgment.”

I smile at that. “She couldn’t stand Tucker. She probably asked me a million times what the heck I was doing with him.”

“What were you doing with him?”

I shrug. “Passing time, I guess. Everyone knows everyone around here, so he would’ve been hard to avoid. I shouldn’t have kept taking him back, but my friends were dating his friends at the time, and it was easier to turn a blind eye than to make a thing out of it.”

Van makes a face. “Weren’t there other options?”

“You mean like other guys I could have dated? Sure. But I never planned to come back here, and dating someone who I’d actually get attached to didn’t seem like a good idea, so I dated Tucker.”

“That seems . . .”

“Shallow?” I supply.

“Calculated was more the word I was looking for.”

I nod my agreement. “It was calculated. If I’d dated a nice guy who treated me well, then I might have been less inclined to move to Chicago. Around here people tend to settle down early. Half of the girls I went to high school with had promise rings before they were even legally allowed to vote.”

“And you didn’t want to be tied down?”

“Not to this place.”

“And yet you’re back. So what changed?”

“My brother was in a car accident, and my dad needed help running the construction company.” I leave out the part about the DUI, my company going under, my ex-boyfriend moving back home, and my needing to find a new apartment. “What about you? Why are you staying at Bee’s place?”

“Well, it’s technically my place now.” I give him a look, so he continues with a sigh. “I’m in between jobs, and I needed a break from the city.”

I lean back in the chair. “It sounds like there’s a story attached to that.”

“There is, but it doesn’t paint me in the best light, and I don’t want to give you another reason to dislike me.”

“Well, now I really want to know what brings you to the wrong side of the lake.”

Van laughs, but there isn’t any humor in it. “It’s not the wrong side; it’s the best side.” He takes his hat off and runs his hands through the damp strands. “I used to be on the board of directors for a foundation in honor of my mother.”

“She passed when you were very young.” I remember, vaguely, a period of time in which Bee wore all black and talked about her daughter. The summer that followed I didn’t see much of her, but I remember her grandchildren being there and my mom telling me they needed family time.

“She did. It was supposed to be a day surgery, but she had a rare reaction to the anesthesia, and we lost her.”

“I’m so sorry. That must have been so hard. Bee loved her very much.”

“She did, and I think she blamed my dad for her death. I think he blamed himself too.”

“That must have been so difficult for all of you. I can’t imagine losing my mother at such a young age. How old were you?”

“I was pretty young. Eight. Old enough to understand that she was gone and not coming back, but my dad just sort of shut down. All he did was work. Nannies basically raised us, and he bought us whatever we wanted. He lost himself when he lost her. And I started spending the summers with Grammy Bee. So did my brother and sister at first, but we had a nanny that Teagan was particularly close with, and she didn’t like being away from Dad for that long, so she stopped coming, and Bradley stayed home with her.”

“Which left only you to visit Bee.”

“Yup. Anyway, when I was eighteen I asked my dad if we could create a foundation in memory of my mom, and of course he said yes. I sat on the board right from the beginning. It was a way for us to connect. And it was good. But the day I arrived here was the same day I found out there was an audit and several million dollars have gone missing from the foundation.”