Summer Secret: Rose Falls Book 5

by Raleigh Ruebins

  “I know.”

  We paused again for a while, letting the cool air settle over us.

  “You know,” Megan said softly, “I… I know you sometimes don’t think you’re good enough for Max. But I’ve honestly never seen the two of you so happy as you both are on this trip.”

  When she said it, images from the whole trip flashed through my mind: stolen moments at the fair, the way Max held me so tight before he drifted to sleep, the deep brown of his eyes looking into mine the moment before I’d first kissed him.

  “It really has been an incredible trip,” I said softly. “I… I hope Max feels the same way.”

  Megan nodded. “You’re kind of the biggest source of good he has in his life. I think you make him feel more whole.”

  I was silent after Megan spoke because I was afraid if I said anything she would be able to hear a wavering in my voice. I felt one stray tear roll down my cheek, but I pretended it wasn’t there.

  Because Megan didn’t even know that I was the one who felt more whole when I was around Max. Without him, I felt like a piece of me was missing.

  But as we sat on the rock for at least another half hour, I started to realize what Megan may have been getting at throughout the whole conversation. If I was nothing without Max by my side, it was truly only me who could fix that. No matter how perfect Max was, no matter how much he had saved me, there was no one who could make me feel whole if I wasn’t already.

  I had to save myself, first. Put on my own oxygen mask before I could take care of anyone around me. Know what I needed in life before I could even begin to feel like I was worthy of someone like Max.

  And I realized then that this was what was holding me back from everything. This was why I wasn’t shouting from the rooftops, professing my love to Max, telling my brother and my parents and everyone that I’d fallen hopelessly in love with my best friend.

  I wasn’t ashamed of him. I wasn’t ashamed of our love. I was ashamed only of myself. And I wanted Max to have the best of everything in the world—including a romantic partner.

  I knew that right now, I wasn’t even close to the best. I was so far from what he needed, what he deserved.

  And the only person who could fix it was me.

  10

  Max

  I had just begun to doze in my own bed when I heard the sound of the back door opening. I shot up in bed quickly. I’d been waiting for that sound all night—the sound of them coming back home, knowing that they were both safe and that Owen was home again. I’d been in bed for an hour thinking of nothing but him.

  There were two sets of footsteps on the stairs coming up, and after a few minutes, I heard the faint sound of Megan saying good night to Owen.

  It took everything in me not to immediately leap out of bed and cross the hall into Owen’s room, but I acted as I had every night for the trip—I waited, made sure that the house sounded asleep, and only then did I get up.

  I crossed quietly to Owen’s door, opening it slowly and going inside. I shut the door behind me, letting out a long breath, seeing Owen already in bed.

  “You came,” Owen whispered.

  I stood with my back pressed to the door. I felt like I was frozen. “Of course,” I whispered back. “It’s… it’s our last night.”

  I took a couple steps closer to the bed, coming close enough that I could see Owen’s eyes now in the dim light. He looked at me with guilt.

  And it felt like that moment stretched out forever. The two of us, seeing each other but not being able to bridge the gap. I knew if I went to him, I’d feel better, but did Owen want it as much as I did? How could I ever really know?

  For years, I’d loved him and not admitted to myself how far that love could really go. Now that I’d gotten a taste of it, it was like a dam had burst, and I knew too much. I knew how good things could be with him. And so the thought of ever losing that—the thought that I might lose it all tomorrow—was almost too much to bear.

  I hesitated. I didn’t know if Owen was tired of me, ready to cut me off, ready to end this now. I didn’t even know if he had wanted me to join him in bed tonight.

  So all I could do was stare at him, holding that moment until it stretched out forever.

  “Max, I’m so, so sorry,” he said finally, true pain in his voice.

  And hearing him speak felt like it released me from a behind fence that had been holding me back.

  I had to go to him. I didn’t care if it was the last time I ever would. I needed to be near him, no matter what the consequences would bring.

  “Oh, Owen,” I said, shaking my head and lowering myself into the bed. I got under the sheets, pausing for a moment to look at him before throwing myself at him, squeezing him as tight as I possibly could. He was warm against my skin, making me feel safe and like I was at home.

  He let out a long breath, wrapping his arms around me and holding me just as tight.

  “Max… Max,” he repeated, just holding me, pressing his lips to my hair in a hard kiss. “I’m an idiot, I’m a fucking idiot, that’s all there is to it.”

  “Owen, I made the decision for myself to not interview for the job—it wasn’t because of you—it wasn’t your fault—”

  “I know, I know,” he said, kissing me again and again on my forehead and temple. “I never should have stormed off. I, uh… I still have a lot of growing to do, it seems.”

  “I didn’t even want the position,” I said. “I didn’t tell you because the guilt has been hanging over me the whole time. I feel guilty for saying no to something that I know wasn’t right for me. But I’m so used to saying yes to everything at work….”

  “You advocated for yourself, though,” Owen said softly. “It sounds like you did the right thing.”

  I shook my head, kissing Owen’s collarbone. “In my world, you don’t say no to any opportunities.”

  “Well,” Owen said. “You said yes to an opportunity. It was just… a beach trip with your idiot best friend instead of a job position.”

  I puffed out a laugh that then turned into a sigh. “It feels like that was the better decision, anyway,” I said. I realized my heart was beating a mile a minute. “God, it feels weird to admit that. Feels weird to prioritize anything over my career.”

  “Sometimes growing feels really weird and strange and unnatural at first,” Owen said. “Sometimes it feels like you’re in a pair of shoes that are far too big for you, and if you aren’t careful, you’ll stumble and fall. But it’s always worth it, Max.”

  I sighed, breathing in the smell of Owen’s skin, lightly scented with the smell of saltwater. “When did you get so fucking wise, Owen?”

  He laughed. “I wouldn’t say that. I’d just say I’ve learned a lot of things the hard way.”

  “You’re amazing,” I said.

  “I love you,” he responded, his voice low.

  I sighed, pressing a kiss to his lips, soft and slow. “I love you so much.”

  He kissed me again, then lay next to me, stroking my hair in the exact way I loved so much. No one else had ever really taken time to touch me like Owen did. Every touch was meaningful, was perfect, with him. He knew how I needed to be touched, and he gave it to me, and every time I felt it, it was like getting my breath knocked out of me.

  Nothing felt better than just being there in Owen’s arms. I wanted more, of course—I wanted him in my mouth or me in his, wanted to have sex again. But at the same time, this felt like enough, just to be wrapped in his arms, knowing that I was wanted.

  And no matter how much I wanted to hold on to that moment, I found myself drifting off. Everything took on that dreamlike quality, and I felt like I could stretch out into forever and always feel this good. This wanted, this protected, this in love.

  I could pretend that tomorrow wasn’t coming at all as I fell asleep in his arms.

  “Well, I have to say, I feel a little cheated, Jim,” Taran said as we were packing up our cars to leave the next morning. “I didn’t see a si
ngle sea turtle orgy this entire trip.”

  “I saw plenty of sea turtles,” Ruth said, shrugging.

  “Me too—but no orgies,” Patrick said.

  “I never said you’d see the orgies,” Jim said. “I said they happened last year. This year, all they are doing is hanging out, I guess.”

  “They got too wild last year, and now they’re just tired,” Megan added, grinning.

  Owen was already sitting in the front passenger seat of Megan’s car, the door propped open and his leg up on the dashboard. I went back inside the beach house to do one last scan of the rooms, making sure that we hadn’t forgotten anything. When I went to “my” room—which I had barely slept in, anyway, I didn’t find a thing. But in Owen’s room, at the windowsill, I saw a collection of seashells that I’d taken in one day from the beach.

  I ran my fingertips over them, wondering if I should just leave them—leave this trip in the past, just a part of my memory. At the last minute, I picked them up and slipped them into my pocket.

  I ran my hand once more along the bed, too—we’d cleaned the sheets this morning and made sure that everything was in nice condition.

  As I looked around the room, I knew that I would never forget it. I burned it into my memory, this place where I’d done things I never thought I’d dream of.

  And yet, somehow, they had happened.

  I knew if I stayed too long I’d never leave. So I turned quick, heading back down the stairs one last time, and back out to the car.

  “I think our car is just about packed up, so we’re gonna head back,” Megan said to Jim and Ruth. “See you back at your house?”

  Jim gave Megan a little salute. “See you three there. Drive safe.”

  I hurried over to the car, sliding into the backseat as Megan got in the driver’s seat.

  “Thank God we got the AC fixed,” Megan said, starting up the car. “Your dad’s friend gave me an incredible deal, too,” she said to Owen. “I would have paid triple anywhere else.”

  “He’s a good guy,” Owen said, turning the air vents to make sure they reached me in the back. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  We were much quieter and subdued on the trip home than we were on the way up. We’d all spent so many days in each other’s company, and it almost felt like there was nothing necessary to say. We were comfortable with each other, and it felt just as good to listen to music and stare out at the highway.

  We made one stop for lunch and gas, and even then, we mostly kept quiet. Owen didn’t make much eye contact with either of us—it seemed that he was in his own head, maybe already thinking about other things.

  At the end of the ride, I dozed until I woke up in the driveway to Owen’s house. And seeing him get out of the car, it finally hit me like it hadn’t really all day: the trip was over. It was time to say goodbye to Owen, not knowing when I would see him next.

  I got out, stretching, waiting as Megan gave everyone big hugs. I thanked Jim and Ruth for an amazing trip, and Patrick hugged me, reminding me not to work too hard. While Ruth pulled Megan aside to say goodbye, I walked over to Owen, who was sitting on the small bench near the front door of the house.

  “Well,” I said, “I guess this is it.” Everything already felt strange, like I was in some sort of weird limbo state, not quite fully awake. But saying goodbye to Owen felt like snapping back into a reality I didn’t want.

  He nodded, smiling up at me before standing up. “Come here,” he said, pulling me into a tight hug. I breathed deep, trying to keep my composure.

  How had I already forgotten what my life was like before this trip? I wanted this to be my new normal, with Owen at my side.

  But I couldn’t help but feel like this was an ending.

  I wanted to say so much as I stood wrapped in Owen’s arms. Mostly I wanted to ask when I’d see him again—I had to know, needed to look forward to that day. But I didn’t ask. I didn’t dare ask when I was so afraid of what the answer might be.

  Because we were back in real life, again. And in real life, Owen wasn’t my partner; he was just my friend. I was someone he wanted to keep to himself, not someone he wanted to be out in the world with.

  We had a secret that would remain in the past, where it belonged.

  And no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t live in that past.

  I heard Megan starting the car engine back up, and I squeezed Owen a little tighter. I felt like I was going to explode from everything I wanted to say to him—didn’t feel like there was enough time in a lifetime to say everything I needed to.

  So I just said the one thing I knew without a doubt. “I love you,” I said, the words coming out quiet.

  “I love you,” he said, his voice deep and soft near my ear. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

  And then he let me go. I had to look away, had to turn and head back to the car quick, dropping my head so that no one would see my teary eyes. I was completely wrecked. I’d been swept into something that was so good it felt infinite, and yet now, it was ending. I was hollowed out.

  As Megan drove away, I pretended to be asleep in the front seat, but the rest of the trip back to New York City I thought only of being in Owen’s arms.

  11

  Owen

  For a long time, I had assumed that substances would be the death of me.

  It made sense; it fit a familiar narrative: I was an addict, and something would probably go wrong at some point. I’d drink too much or take a drug laced with something terrible. I thought that nothing could compare to the emptiness of coming down from a binge of alcohol or drugs.

  But there was no feeling that had ever been more devastating than what I felt in the days after the beach trip ended.

  Even in the past, when I’d woken up in hospitals after having my stomach pumped, everything seemed clear to me. I drank too much because that’s what I always did, and therefore waking up in the hospital was my consequence. It was only natural. I felt terrible, but I didn’t feel confused.

  And now, a week after Max had left, I just felt like I was in freefall. Nothing made sense. Nothing felt quite right. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what was wrong, because it felt like everything was wrong: it was just empty without Max. My mom and dad went back to their regular routines, but I had no such thing. I’d put off finding a job until “after the Pearlview trip,” pushing away that responsibility until the day came, but now the day was here, and I was still left with nothing.

  It was time to take control of my own life, and yet I didn’t feel in control at all. I was restless, and guilty, too, feeling like I’d disappointed Max and now was disappointing everyone else.

  And one night, after gazing out the window for an interminable amount of time, I turned to my mom as she was doing a crossword puzzle on the kitchen table, and I was resolute.

  “I need to get out of this house.”

  “Sure, sweetie,” she replied, still looking down at the newspaper. “Go down to the Promenade, maybe? Or go see a movie?”

  “No, I mean, literally just get out,” I said.

  She raised an eyebrow, finally looking up at me. “What are you saying, Owen?”

  “Do you and Dad still have that tent you used during your camping phase ten years ago?”

  “Phase? It wasn’t a phase. We still camp—well, I guess the last time we camped was in 2009, but that was just yesterday, really—”

  “Do you still have the gear, though?” I asked.

  “Of course we do,” she said. “You’re on your own as far as taking it out of storage, though. It’s all on the far side of the garage.”

  I nodded, springing out of my chair. “Thanks, Mom,” I said, leaning down to give her a quick hug.

  “Honey, if you go camping, please don’t do it alone—”

  “Don’t worry,” I called back, already walking down the hallway toward the garage. “I’m not going far.”

  I lugged out the camping equipment from the garage, unearthing it fr
om behind stacks of magazines, canned food, and a collection of empty glass jars that one of my parents thought was necessary to hold onto. I pulled out the tent, a sleeping bag, a lantern, and not much else. I brushed off the layer of dust on top of everything.

  I hauled the gear outside to the backyard, dumping it into a pile underneath the big red oak tree. Through the back window, I could see where my mom sat inside, and she looked out at me with a big grin, giving me a thumbs-up.

  And then I started to set up the tent. It was different than the ones we’d used in wilderness—it was fancier and took twenty minutes longer to construct, but the principle was the same. I remembered when my parents had purchased all the camping gear, I’d still been in high school, and I had laughed when they asked me if I wanted to go on trips with them. I may have even told them that I’d rather go to school than go camping, which, at the time, was a staggering admission from a school-hater like myself.

  But now, I was setting up the tent in my own backyard, rolling out the sleeping bag inside. The sun had gone down an hour earlier, and so I positioned the little lantern at the corner of the tent. It cast the tiny space in a warm glow—again, a brighter glow than the crappy lanterns we’d had in wilderness.

  I ran back inside, changing into comfortable clothes, brushing my teeth, and saying goodnight to my parents.

  And then I just lay back in the tent, on top of the sleeping bag, staring up at the glow of the lantern on the top of the canvas. At first, most of the sounds around me were just birds, but as the night went on, the crickets started up, and I heard a frog from far away.

  I breathed deep, taking in all the sounds. I thought of nothing. It was the first peace I’d felt in days, and though it didn’t make me feel good, it did make me feel like I belonged somewhere.

  The faintest summer rain began to fall on top of the tent after I’d been outside for nearly two hours. At first, I thought it must have been a rustling in the leaves, but after a while, it became a steady rain pattering on the canvas.