“Can I take a raincheck?” I ask.
 
 “It’s a deal.” She smiles, and I watch them walk off hand in hand, Ayda skipping ahead while Skyler matches her step.
 
 I stay behind, watching the two of them shrink toward the edge of the beach, heading for downtown Liberty and its pastel-painted coffee shops and toe-shoe gossip.
 
 I turn back to the ocean, the wind brushing my cheeks. The mainland is hazy in the distance, but I know he’s there.
 
 Asher.
 
 He left. And I know it wasn’t personal, but it still feels personal. Like he took something with him when he left. This unspoken thread between us, fragile and humming with potential.
 
 Maybe it wouldn’t feel so raw if I hadn’t spent last night whispering his name into my pillow.
 
 If I hadn’t closed my eyes and imagined his hands, his mouth, his rough voice in my ear.
 
 I know it’s a crush, a passing fantasy. These past few days have been ridiculous. And not what I came here for.
 
 I’m supposed to be writing a book. The biggest break of my career. The one my editor’s waiting on. I told myself I could finish it if I just got away from the chaos at my apartment.
 
 But somehow, Asher Fitzgerald has become the biggest distraction of them all.
 
 I let out a breath, turning back toward the lighthouse, still thinking about how close he felt last night, even though he was on the phone.
 
 There’s nothing between us. There can’t be.
 
 But it doesn’t stop me from wishing he was here.
 
 seventeen
 
 ASHER
 
 The office smells like scorched wires and bad decisions. Most of it is sectioned off, the crime scene unit collecting evidence as my team tries to explain what all the equipment does.
 
 Brad, my second-in-command, is waiting for me. “Asher,” he says, shooting me a pained look. “This is Detective Claire Russo, in charge of the investigation.”
 
 “I know Claire,” I say, holding my hand out. “Thanks for being here.”
 
 “I know you, too,” she replies, a wry smile on her lips. “And in case of any doubt, this is my investigation.”
 
 “Sure it is,” I say agreeably. We both know I’ll be running a parallel one. “What do you have so far?”
 
 She walks with me down the hall, her boots crunching on broken glass. “Your server room was the target. Whoever did it knew exactly what to hit and how to get in. No alarms tripped, no entry logs. Just a fried firewall.”
 
 “Do you have any suspects?”
 
 “I was hoping you could give me a list. Rivals, enemies, whoever.”
 
 “You don’t think the motive was financial?” Fuck, I wish it was.
 
 “Do you?”
 
 No. But I’m not giving her everything. Discretion is what we sell. And I already have an idea of where to start.
 
 She glances at her phone. “We just heard from the hospital. Shaun Morris is starting to regain consciousness.”
 
 I stop. “Wait, one of my employees was hurt?” I turn to Brad. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
 
 He winces. “I was going to, as soon as you got here. He was in the control room last night. Whoever did this had to get through him. He put up a fight.”