Twenty-Seven
Osseous Discovery
Finan meets me at his truck, holding the handle on a sizable wicker basket full of food. Four sweating beer bottles peek from the open top. My mouth waters—I haven’t had a beer in a million years. Honestly, I’ve had hardly any alcohol since I’ve been here, which may not be a big deal for most people, but come on …
I’m not going to be swoony and dramatic about it, but Thalia Island is asking new things of me, showing me that maybe I’m not a total spoiled screw-up like everyone thinks. And for the first time, maybe ever, I don’t want to let Rupert down. It’s a weird feeling. I’ll be sure not to tell him.
Although he may be let down when he learns I’ve already put my feelers out among my Vancouver stylist friends about anyone interested in setting up shop ov
