Page 53 of Fire Island
Iris stills, looking over to me with the spoon suspended over the plastic container. “Wine?”
“There was wine . . .” I breathe.
Holy shit.
Fucking hell.
Eve is staring at me.
Em is staring at me.
Iris sits and drops the spoon onto the plate. By the look on their faces, this was a memory. Trying desperately to reclaim the sliver that drifted through my mind a second ago, I close my eyes.
But as hard as I try to envision what could have possibly unfolded around this table involving wine and these people, I can’t find the thread again.
“It’s okay.” Iris lays a hand over mine as she leans over the table. “It’ll come back, I know it.”
Tears line my little sister’s eyes.
“Excuse me,” Eve utters, pushing up from the chair and leaving the dining space. She treads upstairs, and Iris rises, following after her.
“Em, just tell me. Please?” I beg.
His face twists a little like he’s holding back emotion, but he simply says, “I can’t, Cal.”
We eat our food and leave some out for the girls. When Em leaves for home and I head upstairs, they still haven’t come out of Irry’s room.
I knock on her door. “You want me to pack the food away?”
Murmurs slip under the door. It opens a second later, and my sister’s face fills the gap. “No, I’ll be down in a minute to fix it up. Go to bed, Cal.”
Yes, ma’am.
I nod and wander to my room. How can one fragment of a memory trigger such a dramatic effect? What the hell was going on here before I went on that damn rescue call?
I shower and slip under the covers in my boxers. When the heaviness of sleep calls for me, I let it take me down.
“Cal!”
I jerk awake.
“No! Please, stop... No, no.” Someone is screaming, and it doesn’t sound like my sister. “Callum!”
I’m off the bed and out the door before the next heartbeat. Iris meets me in the hallway. Her worried gaze alternates between me and the woman tangled in the blankets.
A heartbreaking wail leaves Eve’s restless body.
Iris steps into the doorway, shaking her head. “No.”
“Callum, plea—No!” Eve screams.
FUCK.
“Move, Irry.” Every inch of my being is strung tight with the need to get to Eve. I have no idea where this protectiveness is coming from, but it’s burning me the fuck alive.
“Help, ple—Cal, I’m sorry...” she sobs, tossing violently.
I shove my sister aside and crawl up the mattress until I’m level with Eve. Her tank top is askew, her hair messed all over her face and over the pillow. Her belly is bare, the small sleep shorts barely covering her hips. Her body trembles, her hands curled like claws as she grips the sheet beneath her. A strangled cry tumbles from her lips.
