Mom held on to her hands for just a second longer. “Be smart.”
A smile cracked her lips. “No lecture?”
Mom smiled back. “I don’t think you need one.”
She launched forward and wrapped Mom in another tight hug, nestling her head against her shoulder, only realizing how much she needed her mother just before she lost her to Pete. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Mom kissed the top of her head and sent her off again.
Summer paused at the top of the stairs and put on her brightest smile, despite the ache in her heart.
Grandma stood in the living room, making small talk with the earliest guests. She waved Summer over and it was go time.
Time to forget her own troubles and focus on someone else for once.
By Grandma’s side, she deflected everyone away from her mother, helping to move the festivities from the house to the beach to run through the ceremony, before they all finally landed at one of the tiny restaurants lining the sand.
The night disappeared into a swirl of half-forgotten relatives and awkward personal questions. Summer smiled and laughed and brushed off invasive questions with lighthearted answers that didn’t match the hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Behind all her brave words and resolutions, every interaction chipped away at her armor, leaving her emotions raw and exposed. The night wore on, stripping away the protective layers hiding her true self. Summer needed an ally. She needed a protector. She needed Bastian.
He’d promised, and yet there she stood alone.
Those words, whispered together in his kitchen, felt like a lifetime ago. Like she’d been a whole other person. Like he’d been someone else too.
The turkey at dinner—a true Thanksgiving feast with dozens of their nearest and dearest—stuck in her aching throat, and her cheeks hurt from forcing herself to smile. To be polite. To be perfect.
To be anyone but herself.
After the third round of wine made its way to the table and Mom’s giggles reached the pitch of a schoolgirl’s, Summer slipped away from the crowd and into the night.
Everything ached. Her heart and her feet and her head. Mom was leaving her again and Bas was gone and everything she’d thought she’d built in Oceanside was disappearing. Even what she’d left with Dad in NorCal was gone.
All her grand plans to change her life meant nothing. She was still the same girl who’d failed so spectacularly in competition. The same girl who’d tried to tell the officer she was sober rather than disappoint him. The same girl who always screwed up everything good in her life.
In the pale silver moon-wash, the beach could be any beach. It could be Summer’s beach up north. Maybe the cliffs weren’t quite as majestic and the shore not as rocky, but the Airstream perched on the edge of the sand still reflected the shimmering orange and yellow flames of a bonfire and Tobey’s ukulele still mingled with the waves and the gulls to make its own sweet, off-key music.
If nothing changed, if she hadn’t changed, what was the point of trying?
“Summer Girl!” Tobey dropped the ukulele and stood. “What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be at dinner still?” He nodded back toward the party.
“I’m giving up,” she called back.
Tobey’s hands were on her shoulders, giving her a quick shake. “Hey. None of that. What happened?”
“Everything is changing and there are all these people and everyone has an opinion about my life and so many questions.” She crumpled into his chest, burying her head against his heartbeat while his arms circled her, filling her senses with salt water and patchouli. “And he didn’t come.” She choked on the words, forcing them past the lump in her throat.
“The boy?” Tobey said.
“The boy.”
“Then he doesn’t know what he’s missing. You’re beautiful tonight.”
“I miss everything.”
“Come here.” He led her to a chair beside the fire and tucked her in.
“Where’s Lola?” she asked, letting her head roll to the side.
“Some party in town.” Tobey pulled his chair up in front of hers and picked up the ukulele again. “You know how I get around people. This,” he gestured to the quiet beach around them. “This is my scene.”
“I hate people.”
He plucked at the ukulele, somehow playing a recognizable tune using disjointed notes. “Talk to me, Summer Girl. I can’t see you like this.”
“Then don’t look at me.”
“Ouch.” He stopped plucking and met her eyes. “Not talking makes it worse.”
“Yeah? Talking is exactly what got me into this mess. If I hadn’t told Bas about the DUI, we’d still be okay.”
“It’s not that big a deal. What’s their issue?”
“A drunk driver killed my friend’s mom. A hundred feet farther down the road, a mile, whatever, that could have been me.”
“Shit.”
“No kidding.”
“Here.” He held out a bottle of beer.
“Tobe, I can’t.”
“After this day? One beer isn’t going to hurt you. I’ll make sure of that.
She took the bottle and twisted off the top. The rippled metal edge bit into her hand, but she ignored the sting and took a cautious sip. Cold and bitter and familiar, it tickled down her throat. “I don’t know how to fix this.I keep hurting people. Every time I think I’m helping, I screw things up even more. I thought I could help Bastian and now he hates me.”
“Then screw them. Screw him.”
“Yes.” She tensed her jaw. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. I can’t do this whole thing. I give up. I want to go home with you guys.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Why not?” She finished off the beer and tossed the bottle aside. Already, the familiar flush of alcohol in her system warmed her body. “I’m sixteen. I can drop out of school.”
“Because this isn’t you.” He picked up her discarded beer bottle and turned it in his hand. “This boy? I saw the way you talked about him. You seriously want to throw that away?”
“You don’t get it.” She pulled tighter into her chair. “I already did.”
“Shit, man.” He handed her another beer and she tipped it back as fast as she could. Her head already throbbed and her stomach threatened to revolt.
“Tomorrow morning,” she said. “My mom is getting married. There is no hope of my life ever going back to normal. There is no hope that my family will ever be a family. And I disappointed Dad so much that he basically sent me away to live in this hellhole. What am I supposed to do?”
“That is not why you’re down here. Cody loves you more than life.”
She shook her head. “But not more than surfing.”
“Dude.” Tobey’s laughter rang in Summer’s head. “How much did you drink?”
She’d lost track after the fourth or fifth, or maybe if was after Lola came back from the party. It had to be past midnight. The stars glittered overhead, but she’d lost hours. Her face had gone numb and her limbs felt distant and cold. The spinning didn’t help either.
“I’m fine.” She stumbled too close to the water and the cold waves slapped her ankles. The jolt gave her just enough focus to head in the direction of the parking lot, shaking off the lingering feeling of déjà vu.
The beach had emptied, leaving Lola picking up bottles to recycle and Tobey playing that stupid ukulele again.
“Summer.” Tobey’s laugh took on a pleading tone. “You can’t even walk straight.”
“I don’t need you,” she snapped, pivoting hard enough that she almost lost her stomach contents. She stumbled closer. “Go back home. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You haven’t been fine all night.”
“Leave her alone,” Lola said, grabbing her boyfriend’s arm. “She’s always handled herself.”
“Except for the last time she partied with us.”
Summer pivoted, rage cut
ting through the haze. “That DUI should have been yours, Tobey, and you know it. I drove that night because you were too drunk and too stupid to keep off the road.”
“Whatever. That was your choice.”
“Choice?” She slammed her hands into his chest. “Choice? You’re my family. I wasn’t going to let you get killed or kill someone.”
“Chill, O’Neill,” Lola said. “I know you and your boyfriend had a fight, but don’t take it out on us.”
“We fought because of that night, because of what I did for you!” That she remembered. The look in Bastian’s eyes. The rest of the last week came in quick jabs, fleeting moments of clarity, but that moment, the words they’d hurled at each other, stayed crisp and clear in her mind.
“You were the one drinking,” Lola said.
“So were you! You were both wasted and ready to tear each other apart.”
“So you did us a solid. It’s not that big a deal.”
“My life is ruined because of that night! Colleges, jobs, friendships are all screwed. I’m a drunk who was stupid enough to drive. To most people, I’m already basically a murderer.”
“Since when do you care about college?” Lola said.
Summer shook her head. “Since one bad choice took the option away. God, I just needed one person to believe in me. Why couldn’t either of you have done that?”
“Summer.” Tobey caught her arm.
“Let her go,” Lola said, wrapping her arms around his bare waist. “It’ll be just us again. We don’t need her.”
Tobey shrugged her off. “Seriously, Summer Girl. We’re family.”
“Why are you going after her, again?” Lola demanded. “It’s always her.”
“She’s my friend.”
“And I’m your girlfriend.” Lola’s voice dropped dangerously low and she turned on Summer. “You want to know something? The night you got the DUI? I called the cops. I told them you’d been drinking. Because there was no way I was letting you take my boyfriend home.”
“What are you talking about?” Summer stepped back.
“When you’re drunk, you’ll fool around with anyone.”
She reeled again. “Not Tobey! What do you think I am?”
“Like you’d even remember it in the morning,” Lola spit. “I called the cops the minute you drove away from that party.”
“Lo.” Tobey’s voice lost any laughter.
“I’d do it again. You’re mine, Tobey Kaeho.”
Summer couldn’t process anything. She couldn’t make anything Lola said make sense. Her insides were broken and pulled apart and smashed back together until she didn’t even recognize herself.
She turned and stumbled away, staggering across the beach.
Conversation echoed around her, swelling and shifting and chasing after her.
Maybe Tobey tried again. Maybe he let her go. But she was alone by the time she reached the concrete.
Chapter 33
Home. Just make it home.
Except Summer couldn’t go home. Her mother expected her to be coherent in the morning, to help with the wedding, to be there to support and celebrate with her. Mom expected her sober and stable and not a sobbing mess. Mom finally almost trusted her.
She veered left without thinking.
Then she was standing in front of Bastian’s house. His lights were on, the white roman shades glowing with warmth and safety.
Unless he hated her. He couldn’t hate her.
Could he?
She was already picking up a handful of spiked seedpods from under the sweet gum tree in his front yard. Already aiming them at the window, listening to them clatter against the glass.
Too late to run. One of the shades lifted for a moment before fluttering back into place.
She waited for an eternity, while her heart went numb and her body turned cold and the stars wheeled overhead.
The front door creaked. She didn’t remember it creaking last time. Everything was so loud and jarring.
“Hell, Summer.” Bastian stood in the doorway, dressed in a soft shirt and flannel pajama pants. His bare feet and rumpled hair made him look as vulnerable as she felt.
“I don’t know where else to go.” The walk and the cold air had helped push the alcohol from her system. She wrapped her arms around herself to hold in the shivers racking her frame.
He closed his fingers around her wrist and drew her inside, shutting the door slowly behind them. With one hand around her hip and the other on her arm, he led her up the stairs, only really breathing again once he’d shut the door to his bedroom.
“You need to put on something warmer,” he said, but his voice had lost the teasing quality that could have made the moment less painful.
“I’m sorry.” She tried to reach for him, but he turned his back and dug through his dresser.
“Here.” He pressed another pair of flannel pants and a long-sleeved shirt into her hands. “I’ll turn my back.”
She nodded and slipped off her dress as soon as he looked away. All the times she’d imagined undressing with Bastian, it had never played out like this. There was nothing sweet or sexy or romantic about showing up on his doorstep plastered and avoiding her parents.
A tear slid down her cheek, but it didn’t feel like a part of her. She pulled up the pants, and then ditched her bra after slipping on the shirt he’d handed her.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I screwed up.” Standing in the middle of the room, there was no place safe for her to sit. “I’m not that girl anymore.”
“Are you sure?”
The tears spilled over, carving hot rivers along her numb cheeks. “Please don’t hate me. It was a mistake and I have paid for it. Not enough, but I’ve paid.”
Something shifted on his face and his brows pulled together. “You think I’m mad about the DUI?”
Her hands fell to her sides. “Aren’t you? Or is this because I called your mom? What did I do?”
“God, Summer, the DUI was stupid, but we all do stupid stuff. I’m mad that you didn’t tell me sooner. I’m mad that you didn’t trust me enough to stay with me. I’m mad that you let me push you away. And now this. What happened to you out there? Do I even want to know?”
“You didn’t come.”
He stilled. “I . . .” He ran his hand over his head. “I didn’t know if you still wanted me to be there.”
“There hasn’t been a moment since I met you that I didn’t want you.” She huddled into herself. “I don’t want to be this mess, but every time I try, I make it worse.”
“I screwed up as much as you did,” he said, staring at the floor.
She shook her head. “I don’t know how we get past this.”
“When I said I was in, I meant I’m all in. This is all of me, here with you.” Then his arms were around her and his voice whispering in her ear and his heart beating against hers.
“Nothing happened,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest. “I just needed you there and I wanted to forget. I thought I wanted to be who I used to be, but I’m not. I’m just so tired.”
He relaxed his hold enough that he could see her face. “Can we agree that neither one of us should drink? Ever.”
She half laughed, half hiccupped. “Ever.”
“Do you want me to call Abby? So you can crash with her?”
She shook her head, trying to coax her scrambled thoughts into words.
“Here.” He led her to the side of the bed. “I can sleep on the couch.”
She caught the hem of his shirt. “Don’t leave.”
“I don’t think . . .”
“I don’t want to be alone. Not tonight.”
He licked his lips. “Summer . . .” Her name came out as a whisper, laced with anguish and want and restraint.
“I know. But I need you. I need a friend.”
“Just a friend?”
She wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “For tonight, just a friend.”
He nodded, slowl
y. Haltingly.
Summer reached up to slide his glasses off and set them on the bedside table.
He climbed in beside her and pulled up the thick duvet over them.
She curled into a fetal position until she stopped shivering and their body heat synchronized to create a perfect bubble of warmth.
With her eyes locked on his, she didn’t speak. Neither did he. Instead, she watched the night reflecting in his dark irises until his lids fluttered closed and his breathing became a lullaby.
Chapter 34
Summer’s senses woke in slow motion. First, the awareness of blinding light through her heavy lids. She kept her eyes closed and sank back into the warmth behind her. Somewhere below her conscious mind, she knew she belonged in that place—safe, protected. Complete.
Gentle, rhythmic breathing lulled her back to almost asleep until the taste and smell of cotton mouth hit her at the same time.
Bastian’s arm rested across her middle, one hand limp with sleep, the other cradling her shoulders. She rotated in his arms, trying not to revel in the way her hip rested against his belly or her head nestled into his chest.
In the white glow of the early morning light, his skin looked even paler and the tiny bruises in the crook of his elbow stood out in stark relief. His dark hair almost covered his eyes, scattered across his pillow. Her stomach clenched with regret as she lifted her fingers to sweep the hair back from his forehead.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Shame and guilt burned her cheeks. For things said and unsaid. Things done and not done.
Bastian stirred, a faint smile on his lips.
Those lips. The only lips she ever wanted to kiss again. Lips she wanted to kiss without the taste of stale beer on hers. Without remorse and a heavy history weighing her down.
She slid away from his side and his hand fell onto the empty place she’d left on the mattress. The smooth bamboo floor chilled her feet as she straightened and looked down at her clothes. His clothes. Infused with his cool, minty scent and the phantom of his presence.
She found her dress on the top of his hamper. She wanted to hold on to him—any part of him—but she stripped down and folded his clothes after pulling on her bra and dress again.
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