The Trick to Landing

by Jenny Kaczorowski

  Creeping back to the bed, she placed the clothes on the pillow and bent to kiss his forehead. Her heart ached, begging her to climb back into his arms and never leave again.

  Instead, she slipped out, down the stairs, and past the kitchen where she could hear someone stirring.

  That wasn’t a conversation she could handle with a hangover.

  Or possibly ever. Parents weren’t exactly her area of expertise, but there was no way she’d come away from the night innocent.

  She found her phone still tucked into the pocket of her dress and sat down at a bus stop to call Abby.

  “A call, not a text?” Abby said, far too chipper. “Must have been a good night!”

  “Can you pick me up?” Summer asked around the gravel in her throat.

  “Where are you?”

  She glanced back up the street. “Outside Bastian’s.”

  There was a long pause. “Okaaay. . . That’s interesting.”

  “I was really dumb last night.”

  Abby whistled. “Okay. I’m at Bria’s without my car. Can you get over here?”

  The walk of shame couldn’t get much more absurd anyway. Might as well make it longer too. “Sure.” She tucked her phone back into her dress and pushed up from the bench. She’d lost her shoes the night before and her uneven hair hung in ragged pieces. At least it was early enough that most of Oceanside remained hidden behind heavy curtains and imposing landscaping. The few cars zipping by were too preoccupied to give much attention to a bedraggled girl hiking up the hill.

  The morning chill shocked her brain awake and more than once she almost turned around. But the time for running was up.

  By the time she reached Bria’s door, more people were awake and she felt conspicuous standing on the stoop. She hesitated for a long moment, studying the oversize door, before she knocked. After what felt like an eternity, Ben opened the door wearing nothing but a pair of running shorts.

  “Oh. I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean,” Summer stammered. “Abby said . . .”

  He grinned. “It’s nothing like that. We just got back from a run. Bri is in the shower and Abby is doing her hair.”

  “I’ll come back.” She was already at the edge of the stairs.

  “Hold up.” He stepped outside, letting the door close behind him. “Are you okay?”

  A million excuses rushed through her mind, but she shook her head instead.

  “Bria’s not mad at you,” Ben said. “It just threw her off.”

  “I swear I didn’t know.” Her foot slipped and she had to catch herself to keep from tumbling into the grass.

  “It threw all of us.”

  “That night changed my entire life. I’m not like that anymore.”

  He leaned back against the side of the house. “I’m guessing my sister asked you over here for a reason.”

  The door opened and Bria stepped out, looking flawless even with her hair hanging around her face in towel-dried chunks and without a spot of makeup on her face.

  Bria looked her over so quickly Summer almost missed it, then pulled her into a hug. “Abby sent me down. Come inside.”

  “Can you believe these two?” Abby said, bounding down the stairs to meet them. “I finally get Bria alone for a girls’ night and she wakes up at six a.m. to go running with my brother. So wrong.”

  “I should probably just go home.” Summer backed toward the door again, but Abby caught one arm and Bria the other, steering her toward the kitchen.

  “Not looking like this,” Abby said.

  “Coffee?” Bria asked, looking past her to Abby.

  “Tea?”

  “On it,” Ben said, disappearing into the pantry.

  “What happened?” Abby whispered.

  Tears welled up and Summer tried to blink them away. “Bastian didn’t come last night.”

  “Idiot,” Bria muttered.

  Summer unsuccessfully tried not to smile. “I kind of lost it.”

  “Hence the hangover,” Abby said. “How did you end up at his house?”

  “It’s next to the beach?” She put her head in her hands. “My mom is getting married at sunset and I’m supposed to be at the salon by ten a.m. I’m a mess. I pissed off my old friends. I screwed things up with Bastian even more. How do I keep making things worse?”

  “We’ll get you patched up and to the wedding, and we’ll deal with Bastian tomorrow,” Abby said.

  “Except I have a probation hearing up north and I’m leaving in the morning. Then I have another follow-up for my head, and if both of those go okay I start prepping for the qualifier and will never have another free moment. I am never going to talk to him again!”

  “Start with caffeine,” Bria said, taking a steaming mug from Ben’s outstretched hands. “You can panic after that.”

  “You guys are being way too nice.”

  “You’re one of us now,” Ben said. “Like it or not.”

  She hid her grin behind the mug. “I don’t want to leave everything broken. Even just for the weekend.”

  “Then we will help you fix it,” Abby said. “Tea, a hot shower. You’re taller than me but we wear the same size, right? So we just get you in some of my clothes and send you off to get ready for the wedding. It’ll be fine.”

  “I have like zero time.”

  “Yep. So drink up.”

  Summer tipped back the mug, finishing the tea far too fast in her gratitude.

  “Up the stairs and to the left,” Abby said, steering her toward the bathroom. “I’ll get you a towel and stuff.”

  Before she had time to grasp much of anything, Summer found herself showered and dressed in Abby’s clothes. She stumbled back down the stairs, pausing on the last tread.

  Bria burst through the front door with a smoothie in hand.

  “Perfect!” Abby said, dancing out of the kitchen. She took the smoothie from Bria and spun to pass it off to Summer. “Dolores’s top secret hangover cure.”

  “Oh.” She took a sip and winced at the tart flavor. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

  “Of course we do,” Abby said, wrapping her arm around Summer’s waist.

  “Eight-thirty,” Bria called from the kitchen.

  “Can I get a ride to my car?” Abby asked.

  “Where are we going?” Summer asked, still trying to get down the smoothie. It was far less palatable than the one she’d shared with Bastian ages ago.

  “Take the jeep,” Ben said, tossing Abby a set of keys.

  “Which salon are you going to?” Abby asked.

  “Tresses, on Main.” Summer looked from face to face for some explanation.

  “Perfect,” Abby said. “An hour and a half is plenty of time.”

  “But what are we doing?”

  “Getting you clothes. Something with buttons. You can’t show up at the salon like this. The point is to help your mom relax. Nothing about my clothes says relax.”

  “But I don’t have shoes.”

  “Size six?”

  “Seven.”

  Abby waved her hand. “All I have here is flip-flops, but we’ll make it work.”

  “We’ll see you tonight,” Bria promised, leaning against Ben’s shoulder. “Unless we can do anything else?”

  “We’ve got this,” Abby said, giving Summer a squeeze before trundling her out the door.

  In no time, Abby pulled the jeep into an impossibly tight spot and jerked to a stop, tossing Summer against the seat belt.

  “I thought we were getting me clothes?” Summer said, peering through the windshield at the café in front of them.

  “We are.” Abby hopped onto the curb and handed off a pair of hot pink, glittery flip-flops she’d dug out of the backseat. “Café Volta has the best breakfast in town. Man, I forgot how much I love this place.”

  “O . . . kay.” Summer trailed after her into the dim, overstuffed coffee shop.

  “This way.” Abby pushed her toward the bathrooms at the back.

  “Lola?” Summer star
ted and tried to turn back, but the older girl caught her hands.

  “Abby called me.”

  “I found her number in your phone,” Abby said. “And I needed someone who could slip into your grandma’s to get your stuff.”

  Lola handed her a backpack. “Your bridesmaid’s dress is on its way. I couldn’t figure out how to get it here on my bike, and Tobey is asleep in the Airstream.”

  Summer shook her head, but accepted the bag and slipped into the bathroom to change. Lola had picked out a pretty sundress with tiny buttons all the way down the front, just like Abby had suggested. It was perfect.

  At the bottom of the bag lay Summer’s silver flats. She pulled them out and hugged them to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut to clear away the threat of tears.

  It would take a lot more than a covert clothing retrieval and the return of misplaced shoes to fix what Lola had broken.

  Abby bustled into the bathroom. “Thirty minutes to go.”

  Summer slipped on the shoes and pulled her hair into a sloppy bun. “How do I look?”

  “Not hung over!”

  “That’s all I need.”

  “Off you go.” Abby took the backpack and followed her out the door.

  “Your ride is here,” Lola said, nodding at someone. “I had to call him.”

  Summer turned to look. Pete was walking toward them with a tray of drinks balanced in one hand and a pink pastry box in the other.

  “You called my mom’s fiancé?” Summer stared at Lola.

  Pete shrugged. “Of all the adults in your life, I’m the only one still trying to get on your good side.”

  Summer blinked and then burst into hysterical laughter.

  “When I talked to Lola, I couldn’t come up with a better idea,” Abby admitted, taking one of the cups from Pete and pressing it into Summer’s hand. “That’s called a London Fog: Earl Grey with steamed milk and vanilla.”

  “Your dress and shoes for the wedding are in my car,” Pete said. “And if your mom asks, we’ve been together all morning getting her breakfast.”

  “So you’re my alibi?”

  “Sure. We can call it that.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” She turned slowly, taking in the strange circle of friends surrounding her. “To any of you.”

  “No need,” Lola said, staring at her feet.

  “Just get to the salon,” Abby said. “And we’ll see you both tonight.”

  Chapter 35

  In the golden glow of the sunset, a string quartet played a simple melody against the roar of the surf. Summer smoothed the pale pink chiffon of her long bridesmaid dress, listening for the shift in music that signaled her entrance.

  She slowly exhaled to calm her racing heart.

  She’d pulled it off. Pete had dropped her at the salon in plenty of time, armed with enough pastries and coffee that no one even questioned where she’d been for the past twelve hours. She’d chatted, sipped orange juice from champagne flutes, and put up with hours of poking and prodding to wrangle her face and hair into an acceptable form.

  Her mom never even guessed how much drama had unfolded the night before.

  With a nod from the wedding planner, Summer fixed her eyes on the canopy at the end of the aisle, keeping her steps slow and measured like she’d been taught.

  Whoever came up with the idea of bouquets for bridesmaids was a genius. She clutched the bright bunch of hydrangea and ranunculus with white knuckles, but made it to her place at the edge of the shore without incident.

  Across the aisle, Pete winked at her and she smiled back. In his pale gray suit, he looked too giddy to do anything else.

  The music shifted and the guests rose, turning to face Mom as she reached the end of the aisle on Dad’s arm. The tulle of her dress floated around her on the breeze, almost as if it were made of sea mist. With her hair in soft curls woven with flowers, she beamed, a perfect, radiant bride.

  Summer stole another look at Pete, at the tears on his cheeks, and then out at the ocean.

  “I, Peter Locke, take you, Rachael Caldwell, to be my wife . . .”

  Amid the swirling change, against the backdrop of vows exchanged, promises made, and unspoken promises broken, the ocean remained faithful and constant and changeless.

  “. . . to have and to hold . . .”

  Summer could hold on, like she always had. Or she could learn to let go. To live each moment, instead of waiting and striving for more.

  “With this ring . . .”

  Bastian might never forgive her, but he’d changed her. He’d taught her more in the few weeks they’d shared than Tobey and Lola had in a lifetime.

  The time had come to forgive herself—and that meant forgiving them, too. All of them.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Peter and Rachael Locke!”

  The guests erupted in cheers and catcalls, and Summer found herself following the newlyweds back up the aisle and into the swirl of well-wishers waiting for them. She smiled and hugged and held out her cheek for kisses from still distant relatives.

  The sun dipped into the ocean, and in the burst of molten gold the day gave way to darkness lit by tiki torches and strings of light..

  Without the haze of alcohol to take the edge off her senses, the noise and confusion overwhelmed Summer. She backed through the crowd, desperate for a quiet corner. For space to breathe and think and feel.

  “Summer.” Lola caught her hand.

  She turned, weary to her core. “Not the time, Lo.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Summer let her breath out through her nose. “I don’t think that covers this.”

  “I know.” Lola wrapped her arms around herself. “I can’t take it back. I would if I could. You know that, right?”

  “I trusted you. With everything. I knew someone had to have reported me. I just didn’t think it could have been you.”

  Lola shifted her feet. “Thinking isn’t my strong suit. DUIs have never been a big deal for us.”

  “Not everyone lives a charmed life like you.”

  “I don’t know about charmed.” She looked away. “I can’t lose him.”

  “Did you really think I’d hurt you by going after Tobey? You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister.”

  “I would. If I were you.”

  Summer laughed. “I’m not you, Lo. I’ve never wanted to be you.”

  “Most days? Me neither.” She looked up. “You’re just magic, Summer Girl. I know I shouldn’t be jealous, but I am. And with Tobey, I just get a little crazy.”

  “Then you need to get him to stop drinking.” Summer rubbed her arms to ward off the chill creeping into the air. “Tobey is more a threat to himself than I could ever be.”

  Lola straightened the hem of her dress. “I don’t know when we lost control.”

  Summer took both of Lola’s hands in hers. “Then do something. Because we’re still family, even if I’m mad.”

  Lola squeezed her hand, and then slipped back into the crowd.

  The DJ came on to announce the first dance and Summer stepped closer to watch. Clutching Pete’s arm, Mom swept into the center of the open space. Her dress shimmered and swirled in the torchlight, everything soft and flowing in time with the music.

  Something hard and painful gripped Summer’s heart and she ditched her shoes beside a torch, gathering the hem of her dress in her arm and snagging an unattended drink off a table. The hairpins dug deeper into her scalp with the weight of her hair dragging them down. She tipped her chin toward the sky, blinking hard enough to stop her eyes from leaking. Mascara was bad enough without it streaking down her cheeks.

  Her mom was married. Pete didn’t suck. Her dad didn’t do anything stupid. She didn’t do anything stupid.

  “Can I have a dance?” her dad asked, holding out his hand.

  Summer glanced at the drink, then up at Dad. “Sure.” She slid the glass across a table and let him pull her onto the dance floor and into the swirl of lights and music and swishing dres
ses.

  For a moment, she was four again, standing on his shoes to twirl with him across their tiny living room.

  “You’ll always be that little girl to me,” he said, as if he could read her thoughts.

  She threw her arms around his chest, hugging him as tight as she could. “You’ll always be my hero.”

  He laughed. “Then I guess I’d better grow up.”

  “What does that even mean?” She crinkled up her nose at him.

  “I’m going to quit competing.”

  She froze. “Why?”

  He smiled down at her. “I’ve got enough from endorsements and stuff to keep going without it. If you want to go pro, you need a full-time parent. You need a manager.”

  “But I don’t even know if I can go pro.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” he said.

  “But I’m staying at Grandma’s.”

  “I’ll find a place down here.”

  “But . . .” Her brain spun, trying to take in his words.

  He kissed the top of her head. “I’ve missed you more than I’ve ever missed surfing. It’s time.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Then don’t.” He looked out at the edge of the dance floor. “Besides, I think someone else wants to talk to you.”

  She followed his gaze with her heart lodged sideways in her throat.

  Bastian stood at the edge of the battered dance floor with his hands tucked into the pockets of his chinos. It was a posture so quintessentially Bas that it took her a moment to recover.

  “You came.” She didn’t remember walking away from Dad, but she was suddenly standing in front of Bastian completely alone.

  “You look . . .” His eyes moved up and down her body, taking in the updo, the makeup, the strapless chiffon dress.

  “I know. I look nice. I’ve heard it all day.”

  “No.” He stepped forward and slid his fingers into her hair, finding the linchpin to undo the entire elaborate mess. “I was going to say ‘wrong.’”

  The tremble shuddered from her scalp to her toes and she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her head against his shoulder. “You came.”

  His arms circled her. “I’ll always come when you need me.”

  “But after everything I did?” She stepped back, watching his face.