According to Levi, engine one has thrown a rod, and the damage is so severe it’s actually penetrated the motor casing and rendered it unsalvageable. Worse than that, because of the extra strain being put on engine two, the oil sample came back full of metal shavings, meaning we are only weeks from its complete failure. A few days ago we knew we were in rough shape but assumed we could limp through another season. Now we know we are, just as Colton said, royally fucked. We’ve all put nearly every penny we make back into the family business, and without income, have barely enough left over to cover our living expenses for the next six months. We can’t take the boat out on the water until we fix it, and I have no idea how we’re going to afford to do that.

Oliver crosses the room, turning down the stove before walking to the sink to wash his hands. “You all right, mate?” he says, watching me with concern.

“Yeah. Just ruining dinner.” The next words are just sitting on my tongue: I’m fucked. My future and the future of my entire family has just gone up in smoke—and oh, by the way, how’s the store?

I can’t do that. But I know I need to talk, to hear myself say what’s going on and hear someone else tell me it’s not as bad as it seems, that everything will work out eventually.

Basically, I need someone to lie to me.

Normally, Ansel would be the best person for this job. He’s stupidly optimistic, and has this way of making every doom-and-gloom situation sound like a perfectly timed stroke of luck. Unfortunately, he’s not even in the same country right now, and there’s no way I’m calling him and taking up what little free time he has to burden him with my problems. He’s out.

Perry would be the next obvious choice, because she’s bored and has historically been a good listener. But, Jesus Christ, I can’t. I know I shouldn’t take sides but even I’m mad at her for what she did to Ansel and Mia, and none of us are really talking to her right now anyway. She’s out, too.

Oliver has enough going on, with the store opening and his long days on his feet. The last thing he needs is for me to unload how my business is ending just as his is taking off.

And if I’m honest, I don’t really want to tell any of them. It’s not that I don’t think they’d be concerned, it’s that I don’t want them to worry. I don’t want them to know how dire it all is.