Chapter One

The water never failed to take my breath away.

I gazed at the hazy blue sky meeting the Boston harbor, watching the waves dance under the sun. The iron guardrail was all that stood between me and certain death–I'd never learned how to swim, a perk of living in a landlocked state.

"There you are! Your dad was worried you fell in," my cousin Lola laughed as she crested the hill and practically skipped to me. The corner of my lips crept up in a smile. Another great injustice of living in the Midwest was that, if I was lucky, I only got to see my favorite person a couple of times a year.

"Not yet. I missed this, though, and you!" I said, wrapping her up in a fierce hug before holding her an arm's-width away to look her over. Lola Good was everything I wasn't: long and lean, a blonde-haired, red-lipped, beautiful disaster. Ugh, I wanted to hate her--especially when she oozed sex appeal in her super short cut-off shorts and a cropped top with a leather fringe that hung from the bottom of her shirt and swung out when she spun me around. And then there was me—five feet nothing, red curls, pale skin dotted with hundreds of freckles. Our family was known for its European good looks, but I had inherited my mother's Irish genes.

"You only miss me because you live out in the sticks where no one knows how to have fun," Lola laughed, pulling me back up the hill. My cousin lived for fast, fun things.

"By the way, Dad wanted me to extend the invitation again. You know you're welcome out here. Havershall would be even more amazing this fall with you here," Lola enunciated 'amazing' so that it had extra syllables. I sighed. Yes, I knew I was welcome here in Massachusetts. Our family had lived here practically since the dawn of time. And I'd love nothing more than to start college with Lola, but Havershall was a private college—private, as in, you'd have to take out a second mortgage each semester. It was a far better option than enrolling in the local public university back home, but we'd never be able to afford it, and I wouldn't make my parents tell me that. I couldn't do that to them.

It was a bitter pill to swallow since Dad had graduated from Havershall. But that was before the tension had grown between my dad, Marshall, and his older brother, Macon, Lola's dad—even before my mom was in the picture and long before I was born. Things remain strained between them to this day, but that didn't stop Dad from packing us up twice a year and trekking back to Massachusetts on his dime since Macon controlled the Good family fortune, and Dad saw very little of it.

No, our branch of the Good family flew coach and clipped coupons, something my cousin would never understand.

"Thanks, Lo, but..." I trailed off, unsure how to tell my obnoxiously rich cousin that I wasn't—again. She bumped her hip into mine, and my cheeks flushed as I pushed away from the guardrail and trudged through the grass. The best part about this restaurant was its proximity to the harbor.

"Well, at the very least, come out with me tonight. After dinner, we'll ditch the parents, and I'll show you what you're passing up. Maybe a fling would tempt you to stay for the summer, at least?" she asked, cocking one of her perfectly manicured eyebrows at me as we waited for the traffic to pass. I glanced over my shoulder, drinking in one last glorious view of the sparkling water before I nodded.

As a child, I listened to my dad's stories about boating and dreamed of the day I could experience it for myself. Ah, to be young and naïve again. Even so, I've always loved the water, the boats, and the salty, ancient smell of the sea.

It was a balm to the bitterness I did my best to hide.

"There's my girl!" Uncle Macon rose and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. He towered over me, making me feel like a child—though being the shortest in the family, that wasn't anything new. I noticed the specks of gray threading through his blonde hair, ones that hadn't been there at Christmas. His blue eyes retained their familiar intensity as they studied me, making me feel like one of his science experiments.

"You look pale, Clare. Have Lola take you out on the boat this weekend. Get some good old vitamin D," he ordered with a hearty laugh, pulling out chairs for Lola and me. I smiled and shot my dad a look. He'd gone twelve shades of purple at Macon's subtle dig.

Mom stroked his back, and slowly, his face returned to normal. She flashed me a bright smile, and I nodded. Game faces on. Macon was not good for my dad's blood pressure.

We ordered, got our drinks, and managed to eat a meal without bloodshed or raised voices – practically a family record. Dad had walked out at Christmas before Uncle Macon had even said grace.

Maybe things were trending in a positive direction.

"So, Clare, where are you heading to school this fall?" Uncle Macon asked, tilting his wine glass in my direction. Well, shit. Mom kicked my foot under the table, and I remembered to smile.

"You know, I've had so many offers; I haven't narrowed it down yet," I said, breezing over the truth with a pretty lie. I glanced at Dad and winked. He snorted a laugh, looking proud of his daughter, who would be lucky to get financial aid at the local community college.

"Isn't it getting a little late for that?" Uncle Macon asked, making a show of checking the date—June 7th, the same as always. We'd celebrated our spring reunion on this day for as long as I could remember. It was Grandma's birthday, though I'd never known her. She'd passed away when Lola and I were still babies.

"Havershall is an attractive option," he continued, his voice swelling with pride. Beside me, Lola nudged my ribs with a shit-eating grin. The sudden clatter from across the table made me jump like a startled cat.

Dad's face had turned molten lava red. Before I could speak, he slammed his fist on the table, making our plates dance.

"Mark my damned words, Macon Good. Clare will not be gracing Havershall with her presence. Do you understand? Over my dead body," he shouted, grabbing Mom's hand and pulling her from the restaurant. I mumbled a quick apology and hugged Lola.

"I'll text you later," I promised and hurried after my parents. When we reached the parking lot, Dad spun around and gripped my shoulders.

"Go, have fun with Lola. Your mother and I are going back to the motel. I'm sorry I let him get to me – again," he sighed, kissing my forehead. I hugged them tightly and watched them drive off before forcing myself to return inside.

I had nothing against Uncle Macon or Aunt Diana, though she was out of the country more often than not. Her absence had become so routine that it no longer raised questions. Dad would never reveal what they had fought over, but apparently, it ran deeper than arguments about movie choices or who got to ride shotgun.

"Dad sends his apologies. He's not feeling well," I said, the lie bitter in my mouth as I slid back into my empty seat. Lola patted my leg, and I nodded gratefully. Like me, she hated the tension, and she'd been just as unsuccessful in getting answers from her father.

"Mmm," Macon said with a nod, steepling his fingers. He looked as resigned to our family's dysfunction as we were.

"I think we're going to go, if that's alright, Dad?" Lola asked, waiting to be excused. Her wide grin promised a night I wouldn't forget. Uncle Macon smiled at both of us and gestured for us to leave. Without thinking, I dropped a kiss on his cheek.

"Thanks for dinner," I whispered with a smile before Lola pulled me along.

As far as I was concerned, this tale had no heroes or villains.