The evening wound down and everyone moved to the fire. Since Clancy could be called away at any time, he was the only adult not drinking wine or beer. In addition to the champagne, Evelyn had enjoyed some chilled pinot grigio, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt relaxed enough to sip a glass of wine.
Throughout the evening, she’d heard plenty of stories about life as a Flynn kid, and from what she could tell, it was a typical family dynamic, filled with rivalries, loyalties, arguments, territories, and a lot of laughter. As adults, Clancy and Rowan were tight, but Duncan seemed more detached. It made sense. He’d spent a total of about six weeks on the island in the last twenty years.
Evie excused herself and took Christina in the house, because this time she really did have to go. They didn’t take more than ten minutes, but by the time she and Chrissy returned to the circle of chairs, everything had changed.
Clancy stood on one side of the flames and Duncan the other. Nat and Ash were on the edge of their chairs, as if on alert.
“That’s enough, the two of you. Sit down.” Frasier glanced at Clancy. “Duncan hasn’t even been home two days and you two have to get into it like this?”
Clancy laughed. “Me, Da? Are you joking?”
Annie hopped up and went over to Evie, gathering Chrissy. “I’ll take Jellybean inside again.”
Evie said there was no need, and that they would be leaving.
That’s when she felt Clancy’s hand grab hers. “Please stay. You need to hear this.”
“No, I don’t.”
Clancy squeezed her hand and locked his gaze with hers. “Please. Trust me. You’ll want to hear what he has to say.”
She moved closer to Clancy’s side, cautiously taking a peek at Duncan’s tensed face in the firelight. The brothers were obviously arguing, but she didn’t know why it had anything to do with her, unless . . .
Evie went rigid. Duncan was going to turn her in!
“Tell her.” Clancy’s voice was laced with fury. Evie began to shake. After all this? This was how it would end?
She whispered to Clancy. “You told me we were safe.”
“You are safe.”
“So Duncan didn’t . . .”
Clancy suddenly realized what she was afraid of. He hugged her tight to his hip. “No, Evie. Not that. No worries.” Clancy paused. “Go ahead and tell her, Duncan.”
The big man shrugged, the light throwing shadows across his hard face. “I ripped up your letter.”
“My . . . what?”
“Your letter. The letter you sent my brother, back when you were kids. I got it out of the mailbox and I ripped it up and tossed it in the trash. He never knew you’d written.”
Evie let go with a laugh of disbelief. This was so strange—impossible. “Why would you do something like that?”
“Because I was an ass.”
Frasier ran a hand over his eyes. “Oh, Jesus.”
Mona let go with a soft cry of disappointment.
“But . . . ?” Evie looked at Clancy again. “I don’t understand. Why did he do that? Why would he care if I wrote you?”
“Because he was jealous and angry. He still is.”
Duncan relaxed his stance. “Come on, man. I didn’t mean anything by it.”