The Sol I grew up with didn’t keep secrets. He couldn’t—he was honest to the bone, and I fucking loathe that something has happened to him to change that. Something that taints Skylar with the same sorrow. “Finish the sentence, Sol.”
Sol shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
It does. But I don’t know how to articulate how much or why—not yet. “All right.” I move closer, and I do it fast, giving him no time to evade me. “Then tell me what the fuck’s going on with you and this boat.”
I have Sol backed into a corner in every sense. He has nowhere to go, and he’s smart enough to know it.
He scowls, an unnatural expression on his sunny, friendly face. “Nothing’s going on with the boat.”
“Liar.”
“Mally, leave it. Please?”
“Why?”
“Because it doesn’t fucking matter!” Sol growls. “This shit has been happening for years, and it’ll keep happening after you’re gone. So what the fuck do you care how it ends?”
Anger doesn’t come easily to a man like Sol Bosanko. I see the regret in his deep brown eyes before he even feels it. And the desperation it came from. He slumps against the cabin door I’vebacked him into. His head drops and I’m not immune to how awful it feels to see.
Bosankos are tactile. Fearless with their affection. Like Vinnie, who I still love as much as Jack loves Sol. And I love Sol too. He’s been a brother to me since I was too young to know which way was up, and I want to help him.
But he has to let me.
I drop my hands on his shoulders, forcing him to meet my gaze. “I’m not the same kid who walked away from this place fifteen years ago. Nowtellme, so we can work together putting it right.”
Sol isn’t soft. He’s not weak. But he knowsme, and lasts less than a minute before he rubs his face in defeat. “It’s mackerel season.”
“So I hear. What does that mean?”
“Means it’s wild out there with no overlords controlling the waters. Makes idiots braver than they have any fucking right to be.”
“What does that mean foryou?”
“Means it doesn’t matter where I fish, someone wants to kill me for earning a living.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. I narrow my eyes. “Who?”
Sol’s nose flares as he takes an inhale, considering his options. “The Couch boys got a new boat at the start of the year. It’s bigger than the one I have left.”
“What happened to your other vessel?”
“Got torched when the lifeguard base went up.”
“At the same time?”
Deep distress lines Sol’s face. “It was moored close by and they set it to go off like a bomb. Took the base down with it.”
“You were the target?”
“I’d say so, as I was fucking asleep on it at the time.”
“What?”
“Drunkand asleep,” Sol elaborates. “I staggered down there after closing time to fetch my phone. Passed out on the deck. If I’d been in the cabin, I wouldn’t have got out.”
Fury, cool and efficient, grows like vines in my gut. “You think they knew you were there?”
“Honestly? Probably not. No one else did—and they still don’t. Not even Oscar.”