"Reed, Misty and the Jet Ski . . . those were simply accidents," Upton said, taking my hands lightly in his.
I clucked my tongue. "No, they--"
"But if you say someone pushed you off the boat, then someone pushed you off the boat," Upto
n added, interrupting me. "And if you stay here, you'll be available to the police. Maybe you'll remember something that will help them sort it all out."
I scoffed, my voice bubbly and wet. "Please. They're not even going to investigate this. They think I'm some drunk, spoiled liar."
"Oh, they're investigating it," Noelle said, glancing over her shoulder at her father, whose back was to us. "You saw how pissed off Daddy was. Believe me, he's going to take care of it."
Mr. Lange's phone snapped shut and he huffed a sigh, muttering under his breath as he approached us. As always, his clothes were crisp and pressed--a light yellow button-down shirt over gray pants-- but he looked tired. Exhausted, actually. He pressed the top of his nose between his thumb and forefinger before addressing me.
"Reed, I'm so sorry, but it looks like we won't have access to the jet until tomorrow," he said.
"What? Why?" Noelle asked.
His nostrils flared slightly. "Your mother has seen fit to fly it back to the States to pick up some sort of flowers she simply must have for the centerpieces at the gala," he replied sarcastically.
25
Noelle sighed. "That's Mom for you."
Noelle's mother was hosting her annual hospital benefit on the island the following week. She had been wrapped up in the plans ever since we'd arrived, and I'd barely laid eyes on her, even though I'd been living in her house for the past week. Which made sense if she was jaunting around the island in search of flowers.
"There is one commercial flight leaving for Philadelphia later today," Mr. Lange said, checking the screen of his phone. "You'd have to connect through Atlanta, and of course I'd hire a car to drive you the rest of the way to Croton once you arrived. I feel horrible about this."
"See? Now you must stay," Upton said, squeezing my hand.
I loved how flying commercial wasn't even an option for him. Before last year I'd never been on any kind of plane, never mind been spoiled into thinking a private jet was the only civilized way to go.
"No. It's okay. I'll take the commercial flight," I replied, pulling my fingers away. Upton, for the first time, seemed to sense the cold vibe I was giving off. His brow creased and he pushed his hands into his pockets, looking dejected.
"Are you sure?" Mr. Lange asked. "I can have the jet gassed and ready for you first thing in the morning."
"Yes, I'm sure," I replied. "I'll go today."
"I'll call my travel agent." Mr. Lange flipped open the phone again, but Noelle held up a hand.
"Wait, Daddy."
He did. She turned to face me.
"Reed, come on. Just sit tight one more day," she said. "We can
26
stay here on our beach, hang out at the house. I promise you won't have to see Poppy, Paige, or Sienna if you don't want to. You should get at least one day of relaxation out of this trip."
I looked into her eyes and realized with a start that she felt guilty. Like all of this was somehow her fault. Why? Because she was the one who had invited me here? That was crazy. She had been trying to do something nice for me. It wasn't her fault one of her friends had turned out to be a sociopath.
"Besides, you heard what Mr. Lange said," Upton added. "You can take the private jet in the morning. You'll be so much more comfortable and it'll take half the time."
Apparently my coldness hadn't completely shut him down. Which was kind of nice. Part of me was glad that he wasn't simply giving up on me. But if I stayed, I was going to have to talk to him. Figure out what had happened, what it meant, and where we stood. The very thought exhausted me.
"Please?" Noelle asked.
That one word stopped me cold. Noelle almost never said "please." To her, just saying the word was akin to begging, which was not her style. I felt my resolve start to cave. I glanced at Upton, whose blue eyes stared back at me, open, questioning, almost vulnerable.