Written in 61 minutes.

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March 2000

The island, which Elizabeth learned was actually called West Plana Cays, was a tiny dot in the southern part of the Bahamas. The resort was on the eastern side of the island, which had handful of villages and towns — nothing large enough to be called a city. Sonny owned the land, but had leased it back to the local governments. Emily explained it all over mimosas their first morning, but Elizabeth had immediately started to tune her out the way she had every history teacher in her entire academic life.

All that really mattered was that they could drive twenty minutes along the coast and have their pick off the resort amenities, head down to the largest town — called Pirates Well — or they could soak up all the sun on the private beach.

It was, Elizabeth thought, the closest she’d ever come to living in paradise.

The first few days, they kept close to the villa, catching up on sleep, drinking their mimosas with breakfast, margaritas with lunch, and wine at night, enjoying the high of drinking legally for the first time in their lives.

But halfway through the trip, Emily decided they needed to do this right — a day spent at the resort’s spa and a night bar hopping in Pirate’s Well.

“I mean, come on, Liz,” she’d said that morning, “how can do you do anything but drink some rum in Pirate’s Well? The name practically begs for it!”

And that was how they found themselves stumbling into their third bar of the night, already a little tipsy and loose. Emily had told Elizabeth over and over again that everyone knew she was Jason’s sister, so they were good to go, and Elizabeth wasn’t going to let anything stop her from enjoying her first real spring break.

The third bar didn’t look like it ran to margaritas or cocktails, so Elizabeth ordered two pints of whatever was on tap, then carried them to the table where Emily was picking at a bowl of pretzels. “You’re not really going to eat from that, are you?” Elizabeth wanted to know. She slid in the seat across the table.

“No, but I might take some of them back for an experiment. How many people do you think have touched these?” Emily picked up her beer, sipped it, then made a face. “Not my favorite, but since I won’t be legal for another year when we go home, I’m not going to complain.”

It was more like eighteen months, but Elizabeth wasn’t going to rain on Emily’s parade. “Did you touch base with Juan today, or—”

“Answering machine again.” Emily rested her chin on her fist. “What do you think that means? That neither of us are trying very hard to keep in touch?”

“I think it’s been five days,” Elizabeth pointed out. “And you see each other everyday, so what’s the problem?” She tipped her head. “Is there a problem?”

“I don’t know. I mean, maybe I’ve just read too many books or watched too many movies, but I feel like I’m just missing the oomph. You know? That something special.”

“Sometimes that ends up being a lie,” Elizabeth muttered. She took a long pull from the bottle. “I thought Lucky was the answer to everything, you know? I felt that something special with him, but maybe it was never there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, maybe I thought after everything we’d been through that I’d never trust another man—but I don’t even know. It sometimes feels like there was something missing with Lucky, too. We dated for over a year, and I never felt—” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “You know. That urge. That feeling.”

“Oh, you mean sex.” Emily nodded sagely. “Yeah, I totally get you. I’ve wanted to jump Juan almost since we met, and then you know, a few weeks ago, we went for it.” She made a face. “It was not what I expected. It got better, but I still feel like there’s something not…I don’t know.”

“I never wanted to jump Lucky,” Elizabeth said, almost wistfully. “You think maybe that part of me is just dead? Lucky never pressured me, but I never felt the pressure either—but maybe I never will.”

“Or maybe you’re just putting yourself out there. We should go to more parties. Lucky’s not the only guy in the world. There are amazing guys who can be trusted, you know that.” Emily shrugged. “Take my brother, example — he’s literally the best.”

“Oh, well, if we’re going to talk about guys who aren’t available,” Elizabeth said, flicking a pretzel at her. “Let’s keep going into fantasy land. Brad Pitt. Joshua Jackson—”

Emily lifted her brows, tipped the beer towards her. “Oh, you’re putting my brother in the same league as Joshua Jackson? That is very interesting. What did you talk about for the whole flight anyway?”

Her cheeks were heated for some stupid reason, and Elizabeth looked away. “Nothing.”

“Come on, you can tell me. You think my brother’s cute, don’t you?”

“We are not having this conversation. Let’s talk about you and Juan some more—”

“If the answer was no, you’d say that.” Emily’s eyes were lit up with pure amusement. “I bet you wouldn’t mind jumping Jason—”

“You have lost your mind—”

A chair slid next to them, and a man sat down, straddling it backwards. “Hello, ladies,” he said, a dimple winking in his cheek. His smile was friendly enough, but there was something in his eyes that had Elizabeth’s own smile fading. “I couldn’t help but overhearing your conversation. You know, I’d be willing to help you out. Show you a good time.”

—

Listen, Jase. Don’t worry. Your sister’s fine. But you need to get over here as soon as possible.

 

The short, terse phone call with the local deputy in Pirate’s Well was all Jason could think about during the ninety minutes of flight time between Puerto Rico and the island. Knowing she was safe didn’t really stop him from worrying — he knew exactly how much trouble Emily could get into when she had a mind to. He’d just figured Elizabeth would be a calming influence on her —

He landed at the airport, got into the waiting Jeep, and headed into the largest town on the island. Pirate’s Well was a tourist trap most of the time, and its downtown was nothing more  than a long strip of bars, tacky gift ships, and restaurants. The local police station was at the end of Queen’s Highway. It wasn’t much of a building — just a large box of concrete set back off the road.

Jason stepped inside, and saw Emily first. She popped off the wooden bench behind the counter, her eye makeup smudged and her hair tousled. The thin strap of the tank top she wore was ripped. “Jason, thank God, you’re here. You need to get this fixed, okay? Because this isn’t Elizabeth’s fault—”

“Elizabeth—” Jason frowned. “Where is she?” His heart picked up a beat. “Is she hurt?” They’d only talked about Emily on the phone, he realized. “Where—”

A door open down the short hallway, and Elizabeth emerged, holding an ice pack against her bottom lip. Jason’s hands fisted at his side. Unlike Emily, it was clear Elizabeth had actually been in a fight. Her curls were hanging limply around her face from the humidity, and there was a rip in the bright pink tube top she wore over a pair of black denim cut off shorts.

When she saw him, the ice pack slid from her hand just enough for him to see the bruise flowering on her cheek and the split lip. “Oh. You’re here.”

“I told you he’d come,” Emily said. “You’re in for it now,” she told the cop who still had an arm around Elizabeth’s upper arm. “My brother is going to—”

“Emily,” Jason cut in. She looked at him with those wide doe eyes. “Let’s just—”

“She didn’t have a choice, okay? She had to slug the guy! And when he hit her back, what was I supposed to do? You didn’t—”

“Way to throw me under the bus, asshole,” Elizabeth muttered, then winced at the pain. She pressed the ice against her mouth.

Jason exhaled, stepped behind the counter. “Marco,” he said. “Let’s talk, okay? She’s not going anywhere.”

“Stay right here,” the cop told Elizabeth, releasing her and gesturing towards the bench. “I don’t have time to chase after trashy American tourists—”

“I wouldn’t say anything else if I were you,” Jason said, and the cop looked at him, his brows raised. “Let’s talk,” he repeated.

He looked at his sister as Elizabeth reluctantly sat next to her. “Don’t say another word to anyone. I’ll be right back.”

“Sorry,” Marco said as they headed towards the back office. “I didn’t know the hot brunette was yours—”

“Tell me what the hell is going on.”

—

Elizabeth had thought she’d hit rock bottom when Jason had appeared in the doorway of the police station, but no, apparently there was another level because as soon as they’d arrived back at the villa, Emily had called dibs on the only shower in the house.

“I know, I know,” her best friend said when Elizabeth shot her a nasty look. “But you dove on the other guy. I ended up on the bar floor, and it’s nasty down there.”

“The next time I take a vacation, you’re not going on it,” Elizabeth called after Emily, but her friend had already disappeared down the hallway. She looked back at Jason whose irritation continued to radiate, from the clench of his jaw, to the tense set of his shoulders, and the cold expression in his eyes.

“She’s just being dramatic. No one dove anywhere, and she tripped on her own feet,” Elizabeth said, tugging at the bottom of her top, though she really wanted to yank the top of it up to her collar bone. “Um, I’m sorry—”

“Give me this,” Jason said, taking the melted pack from her hand. He dumped it in the trash can, went to the freezer and found another pack.

“Um, thanks. I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to get Emily involved in any of this. I’m usually the one holding her back.” She winced when she settled the ice against her mouth. “I’m know you’re pissed we messed up your trip and you had to get us out of jail—”

“They never should have taken you in,” Jason said shortly. “They know who Emily is, and you’re with her. That’s all they needed. But you punched the mayor’s kid, so—” He went back to the fridge, sighed when there wasn’t anything other than alcohol inside. He found the bottle of tequila. “Emily starting a bar fight, sure. But you?”

“I don’t know if I technically started it,” Elizabeth muttered. She sat at the island, watched him pour himself a shot. “And I didn’t mean to punch him that hard. And it’s not like it was much more after that. I slugged him, and he backhanded me. Emily got pissed and went after him, but tripped — she took the table down with her, and then—” She made a face. “I guess maybe I’m lucky all I got was a backhand.”

Jason set the shot glass down with a hard thud. “Why did you hit him?”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “What?”

“You hit the guy first, Elizabeth. Why?”

She shook her head, went towards the sofa. “It’s not a big deal. Em and I were talking, and he made a comment, and it just kind of spiraled form there.” She curled up on the sofa, hoping he’d drop it. Please, please drop it.

“Normally, I wouldn’t care,” Jason said, and his voice was closer now. She looked up and he sat down, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his thighs. “But I had to call in a favor. He was going to hold you on assault charges. Do you have any idea how complicated an international felony case would be?”

“I—” Elizabeth exhaled slowly, some of the fight draining out of her. “Emily and I were talking about relationships,” she said. “And…he overheard us. It’s embarassing, okay?” she managed, staring down at the chipped polish on her free hand. “I drank a little too much, and Emily and I were talking about how I never—I don’t know there’s going to be anyone else I trust  to be with, you know, and she was teasing me—and he sat down and he said he’d show us a good time.”

“And you punched him for that?”

“No,” Elizabeth drawled. “I punched him because he wouldn’t go away when we asked. We stood up to go, and he grabbed my arm—”

Jason sat up, looked at her. “He put his hands on you.”

“Y-Yes.” She swallowed hard. She dropped the ice pack into her lap. “He stopped me from leaving. Told me I was asking for someone to give it to me rough.” Her voice wobbled slightly. “I wasn’t. And no one’s ever going to touch me again. So I punched him. And when he backhanded me, I kicked him in the balls, and that’s when Emily tripped trying to help. So if you want to be mad—”

“I’m—” He dragged a hand down the side of his face. “I’m not mad. I’m sorry—you didn’t tell Marco that—”

“I didn’t want to get into it. I was afraid he’d say something like why didn’t you find another way to get him to go away? I could have laughed or pulled away, but I just—I reacted. I’m sorry. Emily could have been hurt, and I wasn’t thinking about her—”

“I’m not worried about her—” Jason stopped. “I mean, I’m always going to worry about her. But you—” He touched her chin, tipping her head to the side so that he could look at it. “I’m sorry. That you had to go through that. You should have been safe here.”

“I’m—” Elizabeth couldn’t quite form another word. Her brain had mostly clicked off when his fingers had brushed across her skin. She opened her mouth to try again, and his thumb slipped, brushing across her bottom lip, sending a cascade of shivers down her spine, her stomach fluttering wildly. Their eyes met—

And he didn’t move his hand.

All the nerve endings in her body were standing on end, and that was so weird, wasn’t it? The whole world had narrowed down to this moment, to Jason sitting awfully close to her, now that she thought about it, and there was nothing but the sound of waves crashing at the beach, and it was just his eyes and his skin touching hers—

And then the shower clicked off, and Jason jerked his hand away. Elizabeth practically flew to her feet. “Emily will be out soon,” she said, not sure why her voice sounded so breathy. “I need—I need a shower. Thanks for—thanks.”

And she fled.

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