by Macy Beckett
Allie rolled her eyes. “Not this nonsense.”
“Yes, this nonsense.” After everything that had happened, Devyn couldn’t believe her sister still denied the curse. “The Dumont men are hexed. Don’t try to blame parental example and self-fulfilling prophesy, because the women get married and ride off into the sunset—just not the guys.”
“There’s a perfectly good explaina—”
“Not to mention,” Devyn interrupted, “the freaky stuff that happened to Marc when you two got serious.” At the wedding reception, Marc had confided that each time he’d tried asking Allie to move in with him, he was unable to speak the words. He had said it was like having an invisible pillow stuffed over his face. “And when he wanted to marry you, every imaginable force of nature stood in his way.”
“A coincidence,” Allie said. “Nothing more.”
“Oh, yeah? What about Memère’s ring?” It was no coincidence that Marc had stumbled upon the engagement ring his great-great-grandfather had given their great-great-grandmother before the old fool had ditched her at the altar and suffered a curse for it.
“He was in the right place at the right time.”
“Fine,” Devyn said, because she’d saved her best argument for last. “Then explain the birthmark.”
Exactly as expected, Allie didn’t have anything to say to that.
Each Dumont man was born with a wine-colored splotch on the skin above his heart. Marc’s birthmark had mysteriously disappeared on his wedding night while his brothers had retained theirs. It was how Devyn knew he’d broken the curse only for himself, not the entire family.
Allie scowled, obviously trying to come up with some psychobabble scientific explanation for what she stubbornly refused to acknowledge. “I haven’t figured that out yet. But I’m sure there’s a logical reason for it.”
“There is a logical reason,” Devyn said. “Memère’s hex.”
“Fine.” The flatness of Allie’s tone warned she was switching tactics. “For argument’s sake, let’s say there actually is a hex on the Dumonts.”
That wasn’t hard to do. “Okay.”
“Marc and I proved that it can be broken.”
“It wasn’t easy, though.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Allie agreed. “But nothing worthwhile ever is.” She paused to munch on a bite of fried okra, then reached across to steal a sip of beer. “Remember how hard you tried to break the curse for me and Marc?”
Devyn nodded.
“Why not do the same for yourself?”
Because there were plenty of fish in the sea—fish without baggage. “What makes you think I want to?”
Allie glanced at the two empty plates of comfort food, cocking a brow as if no further explanation was necessary.
“Okay, so Beau and I have chemistry,” Devyn admitted. “Truckloads of it. But that’s not enough to make a relationship last. And besides, I couldn’t break the curse for Marc. He had to do it himself.”
“Purest faith shall set you free,” Allie said, reciting the last line from Memère’s spell. Her gaze turned soft, and for a moment, she sounded like a believer. “All the two of you need is faith.”
Whatever. All Devyn needed was to get off this boat and back to her regular life—the one that didn’t include Beau Dumont. Which reminded her . . . “Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”
“Is it how wonderful I am?”
“Well, that’s a given,” Devyn said smiling, but she kept her gaze fixed on an empty beer bottle. “About a week ago, a guy offered me a job and I took it.”
“That’s great!”
“Yeah,” Devyn said, resolving to be positive. “It’s a unique opportunity, and the owner’s excited to have me on the team.”
“What kind of job is it?”
Devyn cleared her throat and studied her fingernails. “I’m going to lead haunted graveyard tours in Cedar Bayou,” she said; then she chanced a peek at her sister.
For a pregnant beat, Allie froze and her lips parted. She quickly recovered with a congratulatory smile, but her original reaction spoke volumes. “How perfect is that? Nobody knows more about Memère’s history than you do.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Suddenly Devyn didn’t want to talk about her new job anymore. Even her sister, who had little esteem for their voodoo heritage, recognized the shame of exploiting it. “Just wanted to let you know.”
“I’m happy if you’re happy,” Allie said, reaching across the island to offer a gentle nudge. “But you’re not exactly turning cartwheels.”
Devyn shrugged and picked up one last bite of okra. “It’s money.”
She popped the morsel in her mouth, but her appetite had died, so she tossed it back onto the plate. “Thanks for the snacks. I’m heading to bed.”
“Hope you feel better in the morning,” Allie said. “If not, come back and I’ll make Mama’s warm bread pudding with an extra dash of lemon. That always cheers me up.”
Devyn hugged her sister and turned to go, but her footsteps were heavier than before. She was pretty sure not even bread pudding could fix what ailed her.
• • •
Devyn didn’t sleep well that night, or the night afterward. She tossed and turned on her narrow bunk. Just when the lazy haze of slumber would begin to wash over her, she’d see the hurt in Beau’s eyes and jerk awake while his words echoed in her head.
Come find me when you’re ready to apologize. I’ll be waiting.
“Fat chance.” Devyn punched her pillow to fluff it, then faced the ceiling. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She hadn’t asked him to kiss her, and she hadn’t asked for this job. He’d muscled his way into her life without permission. He was the one who owed her an apology—ten years’ worth of I’m sorry—not the other way around.
So why was guilt chewing a hole in her stomach?
“Damn you, Beau Dumont,” she whispered in the darkness. “Damn you for making me feel like this. And damn myself for giving you the power to do it.”
Ella-Claire stirred from the bottom bunk, mumbling in her sleep and smacking her lips, so Devyn kept quiet and tried to lie still. Sleep finally took her as the blackness of night gave way to the purple bruise of morning, and the alarm sounded way too soon for her weary body.
She washed in a daze, too exhausted to cast her usual scowl at the shower-toilet, and she made for the coffee station in the dining hall before her hair was even dry.
While stirring her creamer, she couldn’t help discreetly scanning the passengers and crew for the object of her angst. It wasn’t hard to spot him. Beau stood a full head and shoulders above everyone else, his white uniform a stark contrast against a sea of polo shirts and button-downs as he entered the room. He smiled and nodded good morning to everyone in his path, but he didn’t spare a glance in Devyn’s direction when he topped off his travel thermos with black coffee.
He stood close enough to fill her space with the mingled scents of roasted Colombian beans and aftershave. It was a pleasing homey smell, evoking memories of Sunday mornings with her family. Devyn leaned behind him to toss her sugar packet in the trash. Ready to bury the hatchet, she brought a cardboard cup to her lips and faced Beau to give him a chance to acknowledge her.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he screwed on his thermos lid and turned to leave. He waved at everyone but her and strolled out the door without looking back. The bite of rejection made Devyn’s shoulders round forward. He was really going to do this—freeze her out until she apologized. For the thousandth time, she wondered why Beau’s approval mattered so much to her. Clearly she needed professional help.
Fine, she thought. Let him stew a while. I’m not apologizing.
• • •
She lasted all of eight hours.
When five o’clock rolled around and the education center emptied, Devyn was ready to jump out of her skin. Each minute had ticked by in torturously slow degrees until it felt like time was going in reverse. All day, her focus had been shot.
It had taken three tries to get her candle-powered mini steamboat to work, because Beau had dominated her brain and clumsied her fingers.
She refused to examine the reasons why, but she couldn’t stand knowing he was upset with her. It didn’t mean she wanted a repeat performance of their closet adventure, and it didn’t mean she wanted to be friends. She would make her apology quick and sterile, and then things could go back to normal.
As normal as they ever were.
After cleaning up and preparing her materials for the next day, Devyn walked to the casino, figuring she’d find Beau there. She stopped in front of the double doors to take a fortifying breath and wipe her clammy palms on her pants. She could do this—be the bigger person. Five minutes of eating crow would restore her sanity.
It was a worthy trade.
Shaking back her hair, she strode inside. An overload of sensations smacked her in the face as she scanned the crowded room for Beau’s stubborn auburn head. Between the flashing lights, the clamoring machines, and the boisterous cheering from the craps table, she had to make three passes before realizing he wasn’t there.
A hand tapped her on the shoulder, and she spun around to find Thing One smiling at her. She knew it was him because he still hadn’t learned to keep his gaze away from her boobs.
“Looking for the boss man?” he asked.
Devyn nodded. “Where is he?”
“In the security room,” he said, pointing to a swinging door behind the bar. “Go through the storage area; then it’s the first door on the right.”
She followed his directions and strode toward the bar. Her knees trembled and her heart pounded the closer she got to the storage area, but she pushed open the door without hesitation.
Ripping off the Band-Aid, and all that.
To her surprise, Beau was already waiting for her. The door to the security room was open, and he leaned against the jamb with both arms folded across his chest, his face a blank mask. He’d removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, revealing muscled forearms that heightened her anxiety level. It wasn’t easy to meet his chilly gaze, but she forced herself to look him in the eyes.
“How did you know I was here?” she asked.
Beau nodded behind him. “One-way glass. I saw you coming.”
“Oh.” She cleared her throat and blotted her palms again. “Is this a bad time? Because I can come back later.”
To his credit, Beau didn’t stare her down or make her grovel. He kept his expression impassive, but moved out of the way and swept a hand to invite her inside.
The security headquarters was about the same size as her bedroom, but at least ten degrees warmer thanks to a table full of computer equipment and a flat-screen monitor hanging on the wall. That explained why Beau had removed his jacket.
While he shut the door and dragged over a folding chair, Devyn glanced out the one-way glass and wondered what had gone through his mind when he’d watched her cross the casino floor. She had expected him to gloat or at least offer one of his signature smirks, but he was being unusually mature. She wasn’t sure if that would make her apology easier or not.
“Have a seat,” he said, lowering to his swiveling office chair.
Devyn preferred to stand, so she walked behind the chair and gripped its metal back for support. Beau didn’t seem to mind, probably because they were eye level now. Since delaying the inevitable wouldn’t make this any easier, she jumped right in.
“You know why I’m here,” she said, staring out the glass without seeing anything. “I was upset, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
He didn’t say anything at first, just shifted on his seat. When he spoke, there was no trace of resentment in his tone. “Thank you. I know that wasn’t easy.”
“I can admit when I’m wrong.”
“But still.”
“Yeah,” she conceded. “Nothing between us is ever easy.”
He blew out a breath and seemed to relax a bit. “Can I ask what I did to make you mad? Because I keep replaying it in my mind, trying to figure out where I went wrong. It’s been driving me crazy. Whatever I did, I promise I wasn’t trying to upset you.”
Devyn’s heart warmed with the knowledge that their spat had affected both of them. She met his gaze, humbled by the concern she saw there. It gave her the courage to tell him the truth. “It’s my issue. I don’t like thinking about our past. Reminiscing about old times might make you laugh, but for me, memory lane is paved with land mines and broken glass.”
“Was it really that bad?” He blinked at her. “I know I messed up, but—”
“You hurt me, Beau.” Devyn couldn’t believe she’d just said that out loud. She had spent so much time pretending otherwise, but it felt good to admit the truth, like dropping a barbell she’d carried for too long. “And everything is tainted because of that. Even the good times.”
He stood from his chair and reached for her, but seemed to think better of it. “I’m really sorry, Dev. I wish I could make you understand how much I regret leaving.” While keeping his distance, he paused until he caught her eye. “I panicked and I ran. We can blame the curse or my own immaturity, but either way it was wrong. I’ve spent the last decade kicking my own ass for ruining what we had, and I never got you out of my head.” He tapped his temple and repeated, “Never. I don’t think I ever will.”
Devyn squeezed the metal chair while her eyes prickled. She didn’t want to hear how much he’d missed her. All she had come here to do was apologize and leave. If Beau kept going on like this, she would have to shut him down by admitting something she’d kept buried from everyone, even her sister. Devyn had refused to think about it for the last decade. In fact, she’d done such a good job at blocking the memory that it didn’t seem real anymore.
“Let me try to make amends,” he went on. “Can’t we start over? We’ll go as slow as you want. I’ll take you out to dinner and I promise I won’t lay a hand on—”
“You don’t get it.” Devyn’s voice cracked, and she paused to blink back tears. “There’s more.”
Beau shook his head in confusion.
She filled her lungs and announced, “You got me pregnant.”
“What?” He braced one hand on the wall while his jaw went slack. Stammering, he tried several times to get the words out. “When? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t know at first. I took a test the same day your letter came in the mail.” She lifted a shoulder. “Then I got my period a few days later, and then there was no reason to tell you. What was the point? You were long gone, and we were over.”
Silently, he lowered to his chair.
“But those three days before the miscarriage? They were awful.” Devyn drew a shuddering breath. “Not because I was young and alone. I knew my family would help with the baby and the military would garnish your wages. I’d have enough support to get by. That wasn’t what scared me.”
Beau just stared at her, so she blotted her eyes and went on. “What scared me the most was knowing what happens to the kids in your family. And to their mothers. You left me behind to travel the world, and I was just another Dumont castoff, tied to you forever by a baby you would’ve ignored except on holidays, assuming you happened to be in town.”
Beau’s voice was barely audible when he asked, “Did you really think that?”
“Yes. I got a glimpse of what could have been,” Devyn said. “This might sound hateful, and I don’t mean any disrespect, but I almost ended up like your mama. I don’t want that for myself. No man is worth it.”
Not even the only man she’d ever loved.
Devyn took a deep breath and continued. “That’s why we can’t start over. That’s why I don’t want to reminisce about sneaking off to the janitor’s closet. If I could erase all that from my memory, I would.”
Judging by the lack of color in his cheeks, Beau hadn’t quite absorbed the news yet. Devyn understood. At eighteen, it had taken her tw
o full hours to acknowledge the second blue line on her pregnancy test. She had kept staring at it like the results might change if she blinked enough times.
“Look, I didn’t come here to lay anything heavy on you,” she said. “I just want you to know where we stand—and why I can’t go back.” Then she corrected, “Why we can’t go back. I don’t want that kind of life.”
Beau dragged a hand over his face and stared into empty space for so long that he seemed to have forgotten she was there. She took that as her cue to leave.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you the other day. That’s all I came here to tell you.”
When he didn’t answer, she folded her chair and leaned it against the wall, then quietly let herself out.
Devyn had thought that apologizing to Beau would make her feel better, but when she stepped into the casino, each electric chirp pierced her skull like a jackhammer. It was as if she had shed her skin, and now her nerves were exposed. Needing to escape, she jogged across the floor and didn’t stop until she’d reached the ship’s galley.
With moisture welling in her eyes, she asked her sister, “Is that offer of bread pudding still on the table?”
Allie dropped her cup of flour and rushed to offer a hug. “Oh, honey. You bet it is. And ice cream, too.”
Chapter 7
During recon training, the marines had tested the limits of Beau’s body and mind to the breaking point through a series of drills most men couldn’t survive. He’d suffered in silence for three months of the most grueling physical exertion imaginable, like The Longest Day, an eighteen-hour test of endurance where he had puked and dry heaved so much it was a wonder his stomach hadn’t ruptured. But that was child’s play compared to the nighttime exercises. Exhausted from a full day of swimming, running, and towing boats with his bare hands, he had been ordered to hold his position in pitch darkness while his instructors attacked him with blank artillery and tear gas.
