graduate in our family, and I’d do it with minimal loans because I’d saved every birthday check, every cent I’d ever made at my parents’ billiards hall, and all the money I’d made tutoring over the years. I was still hoping for scholarships, but I wouldn’t need them. Anything I got would just be icing on the cake.
Then I handed the entire account over to my dad, for a “can’t miss” investment opportunity that was going to double everything we had. Maybe even triple it. And here we are now: a zero balance for me, and my savings account was hardly the biggest gamble the North family took with Anders Story.
One disgruntled client lost the entirety of his retirement savings, his child’s college fund, and is now in danger of losing his family’s small business.
It’s ironic, I guess, that the son of the biggest victims of Anders Story’s scam is now masquerading as his son. But it’s also intentional. I had big plans for this summer, all of which I probably shot to hell by eating a plate of shrimp linguine.
“Dude.” Efram’s voice yanks me back to our dorm room at Gull Cove Resort. There’s no air-conditioning, so Efram’s giant fan is whirring noisily on his desk, sending a burst of air every time it rotates. Warm air, but better than nothing. “Do you seriously not hear the door?”
I blink at him as the knocking finally registers. “Why don’t you get it?”
“Dude,” Efram repeats, gesturing between me and the door. I’m at my desk, and he’s prone on his bed with his laptop propped against his knees, a pair of oversized headphones looped around his neck. “You’re closer.”
Responsibility by proximity is one of the unspoken rules of guys rooming together, so I get to my feet without further complaint. When I open the door, Milly’s standing there with Aubrey at her side, her fist half raised. “About time,” she says, walking into the room.
“Hey, guys, what’s up?” Efram says, a confused expression crossing his face. My “cousins” haven’t visited me here once since we arrived a week and a half ago.
“We’re borrowing Jonah,” Milly says, spinning a set of keys on one finger. I force myself to keep my eyes on her face instead of the uncharacteristically short shorts she’s wearing, because I’m not supposed to notice that kind of thing. “Carson is letting us use the resort Jeep for the afternoon. We’re going to meet Hazel.”
She says it like I’m supposed to know the name, but my mind is blank. “Who?”
“Hazel Baxter-Clement. The girl from town who’s doing a college project on the Story family. Remember? With the grandfather?” My stomach clenches then, because yeah, I remember. I could barely stand to look at that girl while she was talking to us. I kept expecting her to blow my cover before I’d even gotten to the resort.
“Right,” I say, aiming for a casual tone. “Why are we meeting her?”
“For the interview,” Milly says brightly. “Aubrey and I decided to do it. And we all have to go. It’s a family thing.”
She’s still spinning the keys, and I can read the challenge in her eyes loud and clear. I’ve barely seen Milly since she found me out, but I’ve been on edge the whole time, waiting for her to tell me she’s sending me home. Now, it looks like she’s decided not to—as long as I play along with whatever she wants.
And I will, but it’s not a great situation. Especially since that Hazel girl literally studied the Story family. JT gave me background information before I left, but considering he couldn’t be bothered to tell me he’s allergic to shrimp, I’m not counting on his thoroughness. “I thought you didn’t want to talk to her,” I hedge. Efram’s still lying on his bed with his headphones around his neck, not even pretending that he’s not listening.
“We changed our minds,” Milly says. “Are you coming or not, Jonah?”
The way her voice hardens on my name decides it for me. “Fine,” I mutter, grabbing my room key off the dresser. “But I won’t have much to say.”
She rolls her eyes. “You never do. See you, Efram.”
“Later, cousins,” he says, settling his headphones over his ears.
I follow Milly and Aubrey into the hallway, but wait until we’re in the stairwell with the door closed behind us to ask, “Does this mean you’re not gonna tell?”
Milly faces me, eyes wide. “Tell what? We don’t know anything about anything. If something