There was a beat of silence. “She’s just fine.”

Walker didn’t want to talk about his mama. That made two of us. Charlotte Ames was not a member of the Sawyer fan club. Given that she believed me to be the product of her husband’s adultery, I was pretty sure she’d wished me six feet under more than once.

“Is it bad?” Lily asked Walker, her voice muted. He didn’t reply, and she pushed off the Jet Ski and glided through the water toward him. I averted my eyes as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Lily Taft Easterling was a properly bred young lady, a Southern miss to her toes. But right now, her hair was windblown and free, and Walker’s chest was wet, and I could not have been more of a third wheel if I’d tried.

“Don’t mind me,” I said loudly. “Certainly don’t refrain from PDA on my part. I’ll just be over here minding my own business.”

“Very considerate of you, little sis.”

Walker’s new nickname for me hit me hard. When we’d first met, he’d been in the tail end of a downward spiral and seemed to appreciate that I was immune to his charms. I insulted him, and he enjoyed it. That was our dynamic.

This was the first time he’d referred to me as his sister.

I have to tell him. I did everything in my power not to look from Walker to Lily. I have to tell both of them the truth, even if Lily hates me for it.

But I couldn’t make myself do it.

“Don’t call me that,” I said, and then, realizing that my reaction would probably make him refer to me that way more often, I changed the subject, hard and fast. “I hear the family business is under attack.”

“What are you talking about?” Lily said, before turning back to Walker, her arms still wrapped around his neck. “What is she talking about, Walker?”

“It’s nothing,” Walker told her. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“Just like your mama is fine?” Lily asked.

I was starting to regret bringing it up, but I could only compartmentalize so much.

“I don’t want to talk about the family business.” Walker bent his head forward, allowing his cheek to brush against Lily’s, before casting another sidelong glance at me. “That’s more Cam’s thing these days than mine.”

He’d just given me a reason—and an excuse—to get out of here before I said something else I would regret.

“Now that you mention it, Campbell and I are overdue for a little chat.” I paddled over to Walker’s Jet Ski. The lanyard with the key was still attached to the life vest he’d left on the handlebars. I unclipped the lanyard, attached it to my own vest, and threw his to him.