Prologue

 

FOUR YEARS AGO

 

- CAMDEN -

 

 

Sometimes Mother Nature kicks ass.

Like right now, with a salty breeze blowing over, cooling Fen and I as we sit in the sand in our tuxes, Mother Nature is playing my brother like a hot blonde in a bar looking for a free drink.

Fen is putty in her hands.

“What makes you think we can afford a view like this?” Fen asks it with a hint of sarcasm that is probably fueled by the third Scotch from the open bar at my cousin’s beach wedding here on the island of Kaua‘i, a tropical gem in the Hawaiian island chain. He glances over his shoulder at the formal affair behind us, riddled with Hollywood A-listers. “Hoping for a handout from the other branch of the Sheridans?”

“Hell, no.” That is the implicit rule for my two brothers and me. Even when my billionaire cousin, Dylan Sheridan, sent the three of us invitations to his destination wedding, we’d be damned before we’d take him up on his offer to pay our way. We may not have the Sheridan money in our straggly branch of the family tree. But we do have the Sheridan pride. “And you’re right. Real estate on Kaua‘i is way out of reach on Army pay. But on the Big Island, it’s different.”

Fen angles a look at me. “The Big Island. The one with an active volcano on it.” His voice is deadpan. “Dude, no matter how much of this top shelf Scotch you get me to drink, I’m not sinking my hard-earned money on a vacation rental that’s going to be consumed by a river of lava.”

My eyes roll unconsciously. “It’s a big island. That’s why they call it the Big Island, Fenway.” I draw his name out on purpose because it gets him every time. Even as an adult, he has the same reaction he did when he was a kid—a blistering stare.

Fen hates his name. Our parents, diehard baseball fans, thought it would be cool to name their sons after baseball stadiums. I never minded being Camden after the Orioles’ Camden Yards, which was still under construction when I was born. Dodger’s okay with being named after Dodger Stadium.

But “Fenway”—for Fenway Park, and Fen for short—somehow mutated into Fem when my brother was at that age when kids are at their cruelest. And there’s nothing fem about him. In fact, I think sometimes he makes sure he can bench press more than any of us just to substantiate that fact.

“We wouldn’t buy a condo anywhere near the lava flow.” The current lava flow, I amend in my brain. I see no need to point out that the entire island is made up of five volcanoes, only one of which is considered extinct.

That’s half the reason I love the Big Island so much. There’s a sense of danger there—of almost powerlessness in comparison to Mother Nature—that I find appealing as a Ranger. I like the feeling that no matter how much firepower I hold, I’m inconsequential to something as formidable as the natural forces of our planet. It puts it all in perspective for me.

“Real estate is cheaper on the Big Island. And the views are just as incredible as this.” I give a respectful nod out to the ocean. “So, we buy a three-bedroom overlooking the water, rent it out until we’re all out of the military, and then we move in later.”

I glance at the Pacific stretching out in front of us. “You can do it all there—ski in the snow on Mauna Kea in the morning, hike along a lava flow in the afternoon, and snorkel with manta rays that evening.”

“No shit?”

“No shit. I did all three when I was TDY there at Pohakuloa Training Area with my Brigade. Best time of my life.”

“Is this where the poor relations hang out?” My brother, Dodger, comes up behind us, towering over us like a 6’4” penguin in his tux.

I hate tuxes almost as much as I hate weddings. If it was a military wedding, at least I could wear my uniform.

“Yep. Pull up a seat in the sand,” I tell him, slapping my hand to the ground alongside me. “Tired of socializing with the top one-percent earners of America up there?”

“One percent? Try the point-five percent. There are famous people up there even I recognize.”

That’s saying something. With Dodger’s schedule, it’s not like he keeps up with movies or TV or pop culture. “I know,” I say. “Vi Owens-Shey actually talked to me for, like, fifteen minutes. My life is complete.”

Fen’s eyebrows rise. “Who the hell is she?”

Has he been living under a rock? “She’s an investment guru, bubble boy. Has two or three bestsellers at least. She’s on all the finance networks.” I leave out the part that when I was a kid, Vi was my coming-of-age fantasy, the same way other boys my age were checking out Jessica Simpson or Britney Spears in the 90s.

Fen’s face scrunches up as he looks at me. “There’s maybe fifteen supermodels up there, and you’re excited to talk to a financial reporter?” He shakes his head at me.

I disregard his comment. I’ve got plans in my life that extend a lot further than my goal of commanding the Ranger Regiment one day, so he can fuck himself. “Are things winding up at the reception?” I ask Dodger.

“Are you kidding? They’ll be dancing all night. Dylan’s pathetically in love. Poor son of a bitch.”

“Aw, you’re just jealous.” I’m actually being serious when I say it. Of the three of us, I picture Dodger being the most likely to want to settle down and spawn a couple kids.

So I’m a little surprised by the look of revulsion on his face right now.

“Where’d you get that idea?”

Even Fen seems taken aback. “What about that girl you’ve been dating since before the beginning of time?”

“Didn’t work out,” he grumbles, sinking his beer bottle into a pile of sand after he sits beside us. “Why else do you think she wouldn’t have come with me to this?”

I shrug. “When’d that happen?”

“Almost a year ago.”

Fen and I share a look. Contact from Dodger is scant at best, and it’s no wonder. The government might have paid for his medical school, but they are determined to make him work twice as hard for it.

As he looks at me, Fen’s brow rises. “Well, maybe he’d go in on our place with us.”

Our place, I notice he said.

Yes. I hadn’t even realized I might have sold my brother on the vacation rental idea until this very moment.

“I mean, with what a doctor makes, we might be able to afford a hell of a lot better place,” he adds.

“Yeah.” I brighten. “I saw online that there’s a newer development that went up right on the coast. Ocean views. Health club and infinity-edge pool overlooking Mauna Kea Beach. The places there rent for a fortune and they’re always occupied. We’d make a killing—maybe even have it half paid off by the time we’re out of the military, depending on how long we stay in.”

“What are you two talking about?” Dodger’s face screws up as he looks at us.

“Cam here thinks we should buy a vacation rental property on the Big Island.” Fen jerks a thumb in my direction.

“Why?”

Fen, his gaze a little wobbly after so many drinks, opens up his arms in front of him, as if to embrace the view. “Dodger, look at this place. It’s freakin’ paradise. Who wouldn’t want a piece of this? We get a place on the Big Island. Use it when we’re on leave. Rent it when we’re not. Then we move in when we’re done with the Army.”

“I always thought you’d end up back in Ohio. Be close to family,” Dodger says, earning curious looks from Fen and me.

I glance over my shoulder at the elegant affair behind us. There’s a full band—no standard DJ for the Sheridan clan—and expensive champagne is flowing. It’s the perfect luxury lifestyle that I’d be jealous of if I didn’t love my cousins so much.

From Fen’s expression, he’s thinking the same thing.

“Why in the hell would you want to live next to all that for the rest of your days?” I ask him with marked sarcasm, tossing my chin in the direction of the music.

“Cam’s right. Dodger, we can make our own name for ourselves out here. Not be the other Sheridans.”

I eye them both, looking to close the deal. “We can book a flight there tomorrow. I’ll show you the island. We’ll see a few properties. And then you can think about it. I mean, we’re here, on this side of the planet. Let’s do it now.” I glance over my shoulder at the mass of family and friends gathered on the dance floor overlooking Hanalei Bay. I catch a glimpse of Dylan dancing with his gorgeous bride, his smile resonating even from this distance.

Shit. Dodger’s right. Dylan’s totally lost to her.

Poor fool.

“Or we can stay on Kaua‘i,” I add, “and hang out with family for the rest of the weekend.”

Dodger looks down at his beer. He drinks it straight from the bottle and probably had to specify that preference twice to the bartender at this opulent hotel, seeing as the rest of the wedding party are only putting fine crystal to their lips right now.

“The Big Island,” he says as though he’s chewing on the words. “Never been there.” He gazes out to the horizon just as a pod of dolphins surfaces in the water, their dorsal fins emerging and disappearing and reemerging again until three of them jump clear from the water as if to show off to the others in their pod.

“Holy shit,” the three of us say in unison.

See what I mean about Mother Nature kicking ass?

It’s like a sign to me—three dolphins breaking free from their pod. Three brothers breaking free from their illustrious clan.

I glance at my brothers and notice Dodger’s pulling his phone from his pocket.

“What are you doing?”

Dodger doesn’t even look up. “Booking three plane tickets for tomorrow.”

Apparently, I’m not the only one who sees the sign.