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“I warned you, baby,” he whispers. “Micah doesn’t do feelings. Don’t fall for him; he’s only going to hurt you. He’s projecting everything that he did to Olivia onto you. I wanted him to feel good for one night, so I shared you with him because we’re all hurting on this island. That’s why I shared her with him, too. He’s fucked up, baby… he’s always been fucked up.”

Half answers—half truths from both of them.

Blaming each other.

I swallow a lump in my throat. Is that all I am for Micah? Then why are my feelings growing exponentially for him?

I turn to face Maison and press my lips into the worry crease on his forehead. My love for Maison is strong, too—even though I desperately want to hate him. “I followed him because I was worried about him. He’s withdrawn, like we’re losing him.”

This seems to appease him in this moment, but he still studies me, his brows drawn together, watching the confusion on my face. “This is how Micah is. He has highs and lows. He went months barely speaking to anyone after Olivia died. If something doesn’t go his way, he breaks down.”

I pull my lips away from his. “Those few months, when Micah barely spoke to anyone, was that when you weren’t speaking to him?”

He blinks a couple times and rests his hand on his head, leaning up on his elbow, and cocks one eyebrow. “Why are you asking that?”

“Answer my question, Maison.”

He hoods his eyes and shifts uncomfortably. “I was mad at him. He never had to pay for what he did to her. Even if it was an accident, he shouldn’t have been with her that night. Our dad just made it magically go away. Micah’s never held accountable for anything.”

Stubborn. Maison is stubborn. And… stupid. Does he really not realize what he did?

I arch my brow. “And he beat himself up every day about it, I’m sure.”

Maison presses his lips into my forehead. “Let him deal with this. He will come around.”

I close my eyes, a numbness overcomes me, and I can’t talk anymore. He rubs my forehead, wiping his thumbs over my eyelids, which lulls me to a near sleep. His chest rises and falls beneath my head, and a few minutes of silence passes between us.

“You can go to him if you want,” he says darkly, just as I’m about to pass the threshold into sleep.

I open my eyes and turn my head up to him, my pulse racing. “What did you say?”

“I’m sure he can keep you as warm as I can.”

I purse my lips, shaking my head. “Maison, stop.” Why is he saying this? He’s the one who invited him into our relationship, not me. I could have avoided my weird physical attraction to him. What did Maison expect? They look exactly the same. But I have Maison, and I don’t need both of them. I could have stayed away from Micah, continued ignoring him. “It can’t happen again,” I whisper. “I’m with you, Maison.”

He squeezes me tight. “Good answer, baby.”

Chapter Seventeen

A gut-wrenching scream pierces a hole through my ears and jolts me awake. Maison and I both shoot up, and he grabs me, holding me back as I instinctively lurch forward.

“Stay here, baby,” he whispers. “I’ll find out what’s going on.” He jumps out of the shelter to investigate the cause of the screaming.

“Fuck no,” I mutter and follow him out into the chilly night. Freezing, moist air hits my face as traces of morning hint in the sky—early morning, still night, still bone-chillingly cold, even with the clear night sky seeping it’s light down on us.

The whole group is already out there, minus Micah, and a large body is on the ground, withering in pain. It doesn’t take long for Micah to join, his bone weapon tight in his hand.

I take a few seconds to realize it’s Thomas on the ground in a lifeless heap with a lot of blood pooling around him. Only a two-hundred-and-twenty-five-pound hockey player could make a sound like that.

“What the fuck is going on?” Micah barks, seeing his friend withering in pain. The group surrounds Thomas, while Micah approaches with a look nothing short of predatory.

Ezra, Nigel, Ollie, and Nathan all hover around him. Naomi has a sobbing Jade in a choke hold. Micah closes the distance between him and Ezra as I run up to Maison, who stops a few feet away, looking equally confused at what’s going on, but doing nothing to stop it.

The three hockey players turn to face Micah, creating an impenetrable wall between the two friends. Nigel, I notice, slinks to the shadows with a smirk on his face. James and Serena walk up with puzzled looks on their faces.

“Get the fuck back, Micah,” Ezra barks. “This has nothing to do with you. Nigel caught Thomas stealing food on his fire watch, man. He needed to learn a fucking lesson not to steal from the group.”

Micah’s dangerous glare shifts to Nigel, who appears responsible for the situation based on the twitch of his lip.