Odd.

What she really wanted was to talk to Blaze about Marcus, but she knew that wouldn’t do any good. Lord knows she’d learned that from Kayla-Kayla lived in denial-but even so, it didn’t make sense. Marcus was bad news, and Blaze was clearly better off without him. She wondered why Blaze couldn’t see that. Maybe tomorrow they’d talk about it at the beach.

“Are we boring you?”

Turning, she saw Marcus standing behind her. He was holding a fireball, letting it roll across the back of his hand.

“I just wanted to come down to the water.”

“Do you want me to bring you a beer?”

By the way he asked, she could tell he already knew what she was going to say.

“I don’t drink.”

“Why?”

Because it makes people act stupid, she could have said. But she didn’t. She knew that any explanation she offered would only prolong the conversation. “I just don’t. That’s all.”

“Just say no?” he taunted.

“If you say so.”

In the darkness, he wore the ghost of a smile, but his eyes remained shadowy pits. “Do you think you’re better than us?”

“No.”

“Then c’mon.” He gestured to the bonfire. “Sit with us.”

“I’m fine.”

He glanced over his shoulder. Behind him, Ronnie could see Blaze digging through the cooler for another beer, which was the last thing she needed. She was already unsteady on her feet.

Without warning, he took a step toward her, reaching for her waist. He squeezed, pulling her closer to him. “Let’s walk the beach.”

“No,” she hissed. “I’m not in the mood. And take your hand off me.”

It stayed in place. She could tell Marcus was enjoying this. “You worried about what Blaze would think?”

“I just don’t want to, okay?”

“Blaze won’t care.”

She took a step back, increasing the distance between them.

“I do,” she said. “And I’ve got to go.”

He continued to stare at her. “Yeah, you do that.” Then, after a pause, he spoke up so the others could hear: “No, I’ll just stay here. But thanks for asking.”

She was too shocked to say anything in response. Instead, she started down the beach, knowing that Blaze was watching, and suddenly thinking she couldn’t get away fast enough.

At home, her father was playing the piano, and as soon as she walked in, he peeked at the clock. After what just happened, she wasn’t in the mood to deal with him, so she started for the hallway without a word. He must have seen something in her face, however, because he called out to her.

“Are you okay?”

She hesitated. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said.

“You sure?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He studied her before answering. “Okay.”

“Is there anything else?”

“It’s almost two a.m.,” he pointed out.

“And?”

He bent over the keyboard. “There’s some pasta in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

She had to admit he’d surprised her with that one. No lecture, no orders, no laying down the law. Pretty much the opposite of how Mom would have handled it. She shook her head and walked to the bedroom, wondering if anyone or anything was normal down here.

She forgot to hang blankets over the windows, and the sun lasered into the room, waking her after she’d slept for less than six hours.

Groaning, she rolled over and pulled the pillow on top of her head when she remembered what had happened at the beach the night before. Then she sat up, knowing sleep was out of the question.

Marcus definitely creeped her out.

Her first thought was that she should have said something last night, when he had called out. Something like What the hell are you talking about? or If you think I’d go anywhere alone with you, you’re out of your mind! But she hadn’t, and she suspected that simply walking away was the worst thing she could have done.

She really, really had to talk to Blaze.

With a sigh, she swung herself out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Quickly, she showered and threw on a bathing suit beneath her clothes, and then filled a tote bag with towels and lotion. By the time she was ready, she could hear her father playing the piano. Again. Even back in the apartment he’d never played this much. Focusing on the music, she realized he was playing one of the pieces she’d performed at Carnegie Hall, the same one on the CD that her mom had been playing in the car.

As if she didn’t have enough to deal with right now.

She needed to find Blaze so she could explain what happened. Of course, how to do that without making Marcus out to be a liar might be a problem. Blaze would want to believe Marcus, and who knew what the guy had said after she left. But she’d cross that bridge when she came to it; hopefully, lying in the sun would keep things mellow and she could bring it up naturally.

Ronnie left her bedroom and walked down the hall just as the music from the living room ended, only to be followed by the second piece she’d played at Carnegie Hall.

She paused, adjusting the tote bag on her shoulder. Of course he’d do that. No doubt because he’d heard the shower and knew she was awake. No doubt because he wanted them to find common ground.

Well, not today, Dad. Sorry, but she had things to do. She really wasn’t in the mood for this.

She was about to make a dash to the front door when Jonah emerged from the kitchen.

“Didn’t I say you were supposed to get something good for you?” she heard her dad ask.

“I did. It’s a Pop-Tart.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of cereal.”

“This has sugar.” Jonah wore an earnest expression. “I need my energy, Dad.”

She started to walk quickly through the living room, hoping to make it to the door before he tried to talk to her.

Jonah smiled. “Oh, hey, Ronnie!” he said.

“Hi, Jonah. Bye, Jonah.” She reached for the door handle.

“Sweetheart?” she heard her dad say. He stopped playing. “Can we talk about last night?”

“I really don’t have time to talk right now,” she said, adjusting her tote bag.

“I just want to know where you were all day.”

“Nowhere. It’s not important.”

“It is important.”

“No, Dad,” she said, her voice firm. “It isn’t. And I’ve got things to do, okay?”

Jonah motioned to the door with his Pop-Tart. “What things? Where are you going now?”

This was exactly the conversation she’d hoped to avoid. “It’s none of your business.”

“How long are you going to be gone?”

“I don’t know.”

“Will you be back for lunch or dinner?”

“I don’t know,” she huffed. “I’m leaving.”

Her dad started to play the piano again. Her third piece from Carnegie Hall. He might as well have been playing Mom’s CD.

“We’re going to fly kites later. Me and Dad, I mean.”

She didn’t seem to hear him. Instead, she swiveled toward her dad. “Would you just stop with that?” she snapped.

He stopped playing abruptly. “What?”

“The music you’re playing! You don’t think I recognize those pieces? I know what you’re doing, and I already told you I’m not going to play.”

“I believe you,” he said.

“Then why do you keep trying to get me to change my mind? Why is it that every time I see you, you’re sitting there pounding away?”

He seemed genuinely confused. “It has nothing to do with you,” he offered. “It just… makes me feel better.”

“Well, it makes me feel sick. Don’t you get that? I hate the piano. I hate that I had to play every single day! And I hate that I even have to see the damn thing anymore!”

Before her dad could say another word, she turned, snatched Jonah’s Pop-Tart out of his hand, and stormed out the door.

It took a couple of hours before she found Blaze in the same music store they’d visited yesterday, a couple of blocks from the pier. Ronnie hadn’t known what to expect when they’d first visited the store-it seemed kind of antiquated these days in the age of iPods and downloads-but Blaze had assured her it would be worth it, and it had been.