“Come home,” Linda said. “It’ll be nice. I miss you.”

And just like that, Jess made the long drive back to Kurnai Bay.

Her mother managed to excel herself that year. She was sozzled by noon and incapable of eating the lunch Jess had prepared. Furious at Linda, and at herself for believing things might be different this year, Jess avoided her mother as much as possible for the rest of the vacation, spending her days on the beach and her nights at the usual shack parties. While she waited for Nick to show, she fended off the usual suspects of drunk blokes, some of whom had more reason to hope than others. Nick didn’t turn up to any of the parties.

When New Year’s Eve tipped into New Year’s Day—an assignation they’d shared enough times for her to consider it a tradition—and Nick still hadn’t made an appearance, she finally cracked and asked Trent Fallon, “Where’s Pirelli these days?”

“He was only ever playing at slumming it with us. These days he’s drinking the good stuff with the other rich kids at the yacht club.”

The next day, Jess visited the pier at various times until she ran into Nick. Dressed in the Pirelli summer uniform of navy polo shirt, white shorts and boat shoes, nothing about him showed even a hint of the good-time boy she’d known and enjoyed. His stance stated he owned the pier, the fleet and the respect of the town. His g’day was polite but restrained, his gaze just off-center. Clearly, he was uncomfortable talking to her.

Memories assaulted her. The two of them laughing together. Her sitting on his lap at parties, his arm flung casually around her waist. The time he said it was her “no bullshit, take-charge attitude” he found as sexy as hell.

Now he couldn’t bear to look at her, but it was his embarrassment that slashed and scarred her heart. Made her feel dirty. That night she got drunk for the first time in a long time. It was Will Azzopardi who took her home, held back her hair while she puked, then plied her with water. It was her reflection in the mirror the following morning—a young version of Linda before the ravages of alcohol had wrought their worst—and her mother’s tart comment about being a drunk slut that had shocked her out of her pity party.

She realized Nick was returning to his roots and answering the call of the preceding generations of Pirellis, who lived by the rules of society—hard-working, law-abiding, honorable citizens who put family first. Everything Linda had failed at. Now Nick associated Jess with partying hard, recreational drugs and questionable choices. Not only did he want to leave all that far behind him, he wanted to forget.