Prologue

“Boys! Come help your father!” Marilyn called. She was standing at the top of the stairs that led from the pool of their Hilton Head home down to the beach.

Clay Maxwell looked to his older brother, Brady, for confirmation that they could ignore their mother and keep hanging out at the beach. They always came down here for the Fourth of July celebration with the Atwood family, but a couple of days ago, they had finally made friends with a group of kids nearby. Clay was even more excited because some of them were his own age. One of the girls was pretty, too.

While it was fun, hanging out with Brady and Chris Atwood, Brady’s best friend, all summer, they would treat him like a baby even though they were only three years older. Clay would turn thirteen next month and he’d already dated and dumped a number of girls in his grade. He wasn’t a baby.

“Coming, Mom!” Brady yelled back.

Clay slumped his shoulders. Why did Brady always do the right thing? For once, couldn’t he just ignore our mother and pretend like he hadn’t heard her?

“Let’s go, Clay,” he demanded, all high and mighty.

Brady, the perfect.

Clay rolled his eyes. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Brady fixed him with one of his best death stares. Clay snorted and turned away. Brady could just stare at his back for all he cared. I’d be there in a minute! Just like I’d said. Geez!

“You should probably go,” the girl in front of him said. She smiled sweetly.

She was better than pretty, he decided.

She had the biggest blue eyes ever, her hair was almost platinum in the bright afternoon sun, and her sun-kissed skin looked hot in her skimpy blue bikini. A soft layer of sand clung to her from playing in the water and messing around on the surf all afternoon.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“Maybe I’ll see you later?” she asked hopefully. Her cheeks turned crimson, and she looked away.

Clay stood a little taller, unconsciously mimicking the way Brady would talk to girls he met on the beach. “Definitely. We’re here the rest of the week.”

“Okay!” Her face brightened.

“Clay!” Brady yelled. “Don’t make Mom repeat herself.”

“Jesus, I’m coming!” he yelled back. Clay groaned. “He’s so annoying.”

She giggled. “I’m an only child. I think it might be nice to have someone nag me.”

“It’s not. Trust me.”

“I’ll take your word for it. See you later, Clay.”

“Bye, Andrea.” He nodded his head and then jogged after Brady and Chris, who were waiting impatiently a few feet away.

“Look, I’m coming,” he said. He spread his arms wide to indicate he was heading toward them.

“About time,” Brady said.

When Clay reached them, Brady immediately pulled him into a headlock. He roughly rubbed Clay’s hair with his fist.

“Brady!” he cried, trying to get loose. “Let go!”

Clay punched him in the stomach as hard as he could, but he might as well have been fighting with a brick wall. Even at sixteen, Brady played an endless amount of basketball and worked out relentlessly when he wasn’t studying. He was solid and much bigger than his gangly younger brother who hadn’t grown into his body yet.

In fact, they had always been night and day in looks as well as personality. Brady was tall with dark brown hair and even darker eyes. He looked just like their father. Clay, on the other hand, resembled his mother’s picturesque beauty with dark blond hair that lightened under the summer sun and blue eyes. Brady was the golden boy. He had played varsity basketball as a freshman at a private high school in Chapel Hill and had been on a state traveling team for years before that. He was smart and active in student government, and everyone liked him. Growing up, Clay had preferred lacrosse and soccer but had never liked either as much as Brady liked basketball. His parents had told him he would find his thing when he got older, but he knew he wouldn’t measure up to Brady, no matter what he did.

Brady shoved him away, and Clay tumbled forward, landing on his hands and knees in the sand. He glared up at his brother.

“Sorry,” Brady said.

He offered his hand, but Clay pushed it away.

“I don’t need your help!”

“I was just messing around, Clay. Don’t take everything so seriously.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled.

Chris clapped him on the back when he stood.

Clay wasn’t sure how Chris could stand being around Brady all the time. He was such an asshole. He liked everyone to walk in his shadow. As far as Clay could tell, Chris would have been a much better older brother.

Clay followed Brady and Chris up the stairs. His mother was lying on a lounger and only half-watching his six-year-old little sister, Savannah, splash in the pool with Chris’s younger brother, Lucas, who was the same age as Savannah.

“Mom! Look what I can do!” She jumped up and down in the pool. “I beat Lucas in racing!” Savannah yelled. “Mom!”

“Yes, dear. That’s lovely. Keep at it, and you’ll be an Olympic swimmer someday.”

Savannah beamed even though Clay was sure she had no idea what that meant, but it quelled her curiosity, and she went back to playing. His mother was talking to Chris’s mother, Gina Atwood, who had a one-year-old Alice bouncing on her lap.

“Mom, what did you want?” Clay asked. “I was hanging out with my friends.”

Marilyn looked up at him but turned her smile toward Brady. “There you are, boys. Your father is about to start grilling and wants your help.”

“Got it,” Brady said. “Is he in the study?”

“He wants all of us to grill?” Clay asked, exasperated.

“Your father is very busy, but he wants to spend time with you on our family vacation, Clay. Give him a chance, would you?” she asked. Her tone said there was to be no arguing, and she was irritated with him to boot.

“Don’t listen to Clay. He’s just in a bad mood because he had to leave his girlfriend behind,” Brady teased.

“Another one?” Marilyn asked.

“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s just a friend.”

“Right,” Brady said under his breath.

“Well, if you want to invite your…friend over for dinner, there’s plenty to go around.”