If the Summer Lasted Forever

by Shari L. Tapscott

  I shrug, not knowing how I feel. He and Evie were together for three years after all—he must still care for her, at least a little bit. Even if he doesn’t want to. Even if I don’t want him to.

  When Mrs. Tillman’s phone rings, I get the first premonition that something is amiss. She frowns and turns to Landon. “Any idea why Evie is calling me?”

  Landon holds his hands out, wordlessly telling her he has no idea and doesn’t really want to know.

  Mrs. Tillman looks down at the number, conflicted. “Do you think everything’s all right with her parents? It seems strange she’d call me if it wasn’t an emergency.”

  And then, because she’s a mom and she just can’t help herself, she answers the phone. “Hi, Evie,” she says in a warm but cautious tone—one that makes me realize she knew Landon’s ex pretty well.

  “Oh,” Mrs. Tillman says, her eyes getting huge. “I…well.”

  A mask falls over Landon’s face, and he stares at his mother.

  “We’re at the fireworks right now, but we’ll be back at the—” Mrs. Tillman stops abruptly like she was interrupted. She flashes Landon a helpless look and shakes her head, like whatever is happening is completely out of her control. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

  I tug away from Landon and draw my knees to my chest, crossing my arms over them.

  “No, I don’t think it’s smart to drive back in the dark…” Mrs. Tillman turns her face toward the sky. “We’re near the lake, not far from the boat ramp.”

  She’s here. Evie is here.

  How is this even happening?

  “Mom,” Landon practically snarls as soon as Mrs. Tillman hangs up the phone.

  She shakes her head, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “I didn’t know what to do. She said she drove here to see you. I didn’t want to send her back this late.”

  “From home?” Landon asks, incredulous. “That’s at least fifteen hours.”

  So…apparently Evie is unbalanced. That’s good to know—I’ll just file that tidbit of information away.

  “I’m so sorry, Lacey,” Mrs. Tillman says, turning to me. She grimaces, looking mildly dazed. Apparently, she didn’t know Evie was insane either.

  Mom and Uncle Mark don’t say anything, but I can tell they’re questioning the wisdom of pushing my relationship with Landon.

  “How can she just drive here?” I demand to no one in particular.

  “She’s eighteen,” Landon says quietly. “Same as me. If she wants to hop in the car and drive fifteen hours to confront her ex-boyfriend, there’s not much stopping her.”

  She’s older than me. Even better.

  Twenty minutes later, a dark green sedan drives slowly through the line of cars, and it stops when it reaches the Tillman’s Suburban.

  “Is that her?” I ask Landon at a whisper.

  He gives me a tight nod.

  There’s not a lot of room between the SUV and the truck on the other side of them, but Evie manages to maneuver into it.

  I sit here, more uncomfortable than I’ve ever been in my life, waiting for the first glimpse of the girl Landon was in love with.

  And then there she is. Does she look insane? No, she looks gorgeous. Her hair is a medium brunette shade, and it falls in a perfectly straight sheet to her waist. She has perfect cheekbones, light eyes framed with long lashes, and she’s slender and tall like a model.

  And she doesn’t look eighteen—she looks twenty.

  She glances my way and then dismisses me like I’m nothing more than an insignificant speed bump in her plan to win Landon back.

  “Landon,” she says, her eyes finding his. It’s a greeting, reprimand, and a purr all at once. “We need to talk.”

  He glances at our group. Every single one of us, except for Caleb who couldn’t care less, watches the two of them.

  Looking plenty uncomfortable, Landon gives her a curt nod. Then he turns to me. “I will be right back.”

  I try to smile, but it’s weak at best.

  Landon leaps from the truck, and as he steers her away from the group, I try not to admire how good they look together. They look like they stepped off the cover of a summer-themed magazine, one that makes teens everywhere feel inadequate.

  I sit with a forced smile on my face, waiting, waiting, waiting for Landon to return. I refuse to look at my phone to check the time, but it’s been at least fifteen minutes since Evie stole him away, maybe more.

  “Oh, I forgot your lemon tea,” I absently hear Mom say to Uncle Mark.

  I leap to my feet. “I’ll go back for it.”

  Mark shoots me a concerned look. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll drink a soda.”

  “No, I got it.” I don’t wait for a reply before I hop out of the truck. As I’m hurrying away, back toward our campground that’s a good thirty-minute walk from here, I hear Mom call my name.

  I keep going. As soon as I reach the main road, I start to run. I make it back in record time, but even when I catch my breath, I still can’t breathe.

  Why did I let my guard down? I knew better.

  I stop in front of the fish pond, staring at the dark water, ruminating over my rotten life choices. At least I didn’t tell Landon I wanted to stop pretending.

  That would make it all that much worse. The last thing I need is him to pity me.

  Poor little campground girl. She went and fell for one of the guests.

  It’s almost dark now, and the campground lights have flickered to life. The fireworks will start soon, but I don’t intend to go back.

  Mom and Uncle Mark will understand.

  The campground is so quiet you can hear the creek bubbling just past Hallie and Greg’s cabin. Most of the campers are in the grassy meadow by the lake, waiting for the display to start.

  A dog barks from one of the sites, and then he goes silent. Everything is so still; it’s a little eerie.

  I head for the house, knowing I’ll feel better once I’m inside. Just as I round the corner, I hear the crunch of rapidly approaching footsteps on the gravel behind me. My heart freezes. I whirl around and find a shadowed figure heading my way.

  I let out a yip and stumble back, ready to dart.

  “It’s me,” Landon says, finally close enough I can make him out in the dim glow of our front porch light. He sets his hands on his hips and draws in a deep breath. “You’re fast when you’re not in flip-flops.”

  “What are you doing here?” I will my heart to return to a regular pace, but it’s still racing like a spooked rabbit.

  He steps forward in the dark. “Your mom said you left. I came looking for you.”

  I don’t know how to answer. I realize I showed him my cards—he knows how I feel about him now that I ran away from the fireworks. Why else would I care that he went off with Evie?

  Speaking of his psycho ex-girlfriend…

  “Where’s Evie?” I ask.

  “Watching the fireworks, I guess.”

  “Didn’t she care that you left?”

  A smile toys at his lips. “She was livid, but not because of the fireworks.”

  I study him, wondering why he’s here. Unless, maybe, just maybe, this thing I’m feeling is mutual.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I know she hurt you, and it had to have been hard to see her again.”

  He steps forward, meeting me. “It wasn’t so bad, not with you there.”

  My stomach does a flip when he says almost the same thing I said to him about Thomas.

  Not too far away, the first firework cracks in the sky. Though it’s masked by the nearby trees, the boom is still impressive.

  “I have an idea,” Landon says suddenly, grabbing my hand and leading me to the side of the house.

  “Where are we going?”

  He stops at a ladder Mark has propped against the house. He was using it to fix a piece of trim this week, and he never got around to finishing.

  “Ever climbed onto the roof?” Landon asks, jerking his chin toward the ladd
er.

  “No,” I laugh.

  “Do you want to?”

  I look at the ladder and then back at Landon. Instead of answering, I check to see if it’s sturdy, and then I begin my climb. Landon stays at the bottom, holding the ladder until I reach the top.

  “Who’s going to hold it for you?” I ask.

  “I’ll be careful.”

  I wait for him at the top, stepping back when he reaches me. The roof isn’t steep, nor is this section very high.

  Landon takes my hand and leads me to a spot near the ridge. “How’s this?” he asks.

  We can just see the fireworks over the tall trees, and we have the sky to ourselves.

  “It’s perfect.”

  We sit side by side, the tips of our fingers brushing, and watch the show. After a few minutes, Landon looks my way.

  “Yes?” I ask, my focus still on the fireworks though my attention is solely on Landon.

  “I like you,” he says, a sentiment that demands I look his way.

  He continues, “I liked you the moment you tripped over your chair when you were leaving your desk to show me to the campsite.”

  My stomach warms and tightens, but my limbs are loose and languid.

  “I like you too,” I say even though I’m scared and elated and a dozen emotions in between.

  “Then why don’t we stop ignoring this is happening when we both know it is? I’m not with you because I want to make my family happy. I’m with you because you make me happy.”

  “And Evie?” I ask because I must know.

  “Evie does not make me happy,” he says firmly.

  I set my hand over his, and he immediately turns it so our palms meet.

  “You could leave anytime now,” I point out. “What if your parents decide they’re done with Gray Jay? That they want to move on early?”

  He digs his phone out of his pocket and holds it up. “There’s this really awesome device. It’s called a phone. We can each use one and talk no matter where we are in the country.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not the same, and you know it.”

  “Day by day, Lacey. I don’t know where we’ll be in a year, but I know I’m here, right now, with you. And I don’t want to waste it.”

  Almost every fiber of my being wants to give in and see where this goes. But the part of me that was hurt by Thomas fights. I’m stuck here. I’ll always be stuck here because this is where my family needs me. This might be fun now, but what about in a month? The summer can’t last forever.

  Seeing the conflict written on my face, Landon strokes my hand with his thumb.

  “Everyone leaves,” I say quietly, looking down at our hands. “They come through, stay just long enough I get attached, and then they move on with their lives while I stay here, stagnant.”

  He waits, letting me get my thoughts in order.

  “I want this.” I squeeze his hand as I look up. “But I’m afraid if we go there, if we make this real, it’s going to destroy me when you go.”

  “Then let’s not put labels on it. We won’t make it ‘official’—you won’t be my fake girlfriend or my real girlfriend. You’ll just be my Lacey.”

  And my heart nearly breaks right now because the way he says it makes it sound infinitely sweeter than any official label.

  Sighing in resignation, I lean my head against his shoulder and nod.

  Relaxing, he pulls his hand from mine and loops his arm around my shoulders. We continue to watch the fireworks. They light the sky, coming faster now as the finale begins.

  He shifts just a little, turning his head so he’s facing me instead of the sky.

  “What?” I ask, trying not to smile.

  “I’m wondering if I can kiss you. Is that allowed with our new arrangement?”

  “No,” I say, being difficult just because I can.

  Landon waits, probably trying to figure out if I’m serious.

  Laughing under my breath, I turn into him, set my hand on his shoulder to anchor myself so I don’t fall off the roof, and press my lips to his.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Without hesitation, Landon meets me. It’s a sweet kiss—not searing like the one in the kitchen or new and exciting like the one in the barn—sweet. The kind that’s interrupted by smiles.

  But through it all, the little voice in the back of my head warns me to think about the consequences of falling for another summer boy.

  I shift back after a moment so I can meet Landon’s eyes. “Just this one time, understand?”

  “Just this?” he asks, incredulous, raising his voice so I can hear him over the cracks and booms of the last of the firework display.

  I nod.

  He sets his forehead against mine and closes his eyes, smiling in a way that makes me think he’s wondering how he found such a difficult girl.

  After a moment, he opens his eyes and meets my gaze. “Then let’s make it memorable.”

  He slides his hand along the base of my neck, bringing me closer, and our mouths meet again. The sky quiets, and the kiss deepens.

  When the first car lights shine through the trees, alerting us people will be arriving back at the campground soon, Landon breaks the kiss. “I suppose we should climb down before everyone gets here.”

  I nod.

  He presses one last soft, short kiss to my lips and then we carefully make our way to the ladder. The only problem is…the ladder’s on the ground.

  We stare down at it.

  “That’s inconvenient,” Landon finally says, looking at me.

  We hold each other’s gaze for several full seconds before laughter bubbles up inside of me, and I can no longer contain it. Landon grins, chuckling himself.

  “Might as well sit.” Landon lowers himself to the edge of the roof. I join him, and we dangle our legs over the edge while we wait for Mom and Uncle Mark to show up.

  “What’s your mom going to think about us watching the fireworks from the roof?” Landon asks as Uncle Mark’s truck pulls into the drive.

  “Honestly? I have no idea.”

  “Well, we’re about to find out.”

  As soon as they’re out of the truck, we wave our hands and call out to get their attention. Mom looks over, startled.

  “Lacey Harriet Adele! What are you doing on the roof?”

  Both middle names? She’s not happy.

  “Harriet Adele?” Landon teases quietly.

  I gently elbow him in the ribs as I holler back, “We were watching the fireworks, but the ladder fell while we were up here.”

  Uncle Mark grins and walks below us, craning his neck to look up. “How do you plan to get down?”

  I set my hands on my hips. “You’re going to hand us that ladder.”

  “I am?” he teases. Thankfully, he’s more amused than my mother.

  After a few more minutes of joking, he finally sets the ladder against the house and holds it so we can climb down.

  “Goodnight, Landon,” Mom says, but it really means, “You’re in trouble, Landon. Go back to your camper.”

  He gives her a sheepish grin. “Night, Mrs. Mor—Cassie. Night, Mark.” Before he goes, he turns back to me and mouths, “Goodnight, Lacey.”

  It warms me all the way to the tips of my toes.

  “Bye,” I mouth back.

  At least Mom waits until he’s gone before the scolding begins. “The roof, Lacey? In the dark? Do you know how dangerous that is?”

  “Oh, it’s not that big of a deal,” Mark says gently. “She’s fine.”

  Mom scowls at him, but she finally gives in. Turning back to me, she says, “Don’t do it again.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” I swear.

  Before we go inside, I glance toward the campground. “What happened with Evie?”

  Mom rolls her eyes. “Sarah put her up in a hotel in town and told her to drive home tomorrow. Landon’s made it very clear he doesn’t want her here.”

  Satisfied, I nod and head toward the house.

  “How w
ell could you see the fireworks from up there?” Uncle Mark asks.

  I glance at Mom before I hide a smile and say, “Pretty well.”

  I don’t think I need to admit I didn’t watch most of them.

  Uncle Mark grins at my mother. “Maybe we should all climb up there next year?”

  She laughs and gives him a good, hard shove to the arm. “Not on your life.”

  ***

  “What did that art curator want?” I finally remember to ask Mom as we’re making dinner several weeks after the man showed up. With everything going on with Landon, I forgot to ask.

  She chops bell peppers to add to the onions already sautéing in the skillet. “He wants to show some of my work in his gallery.”

  “So…did he take anything?”

  The peppers hiss and spit as she adds them to the hot skillet. “He took a few pieces on consignment and said he’d see how much interest they garner.”

  “That’s good, right? You’re excited?”

  She shrugs, snacking on a leftover piece of bell pepper. “I don’t know if anything will come of it.”

  What she really means is she doesn’t want to get her hopes up.

  “Your stuff is amazing,” I tell her. “It deserves to be in galleries…not coffee shops.”

  “It was very kind of Betta to let me display a few pieces,” Mom reminds me almost sternly.

  I nod, feeling adequately chastised, and stir rice and cooked sausage in with the peppers and onions. The conversation drops off as I finish preparing the jambalaya so it can cook.

  “So…how are things going with Landon?” Mom asks smugly just as I’m putting the lid on the pot and turning down the temperature to a simmer.

  That, Mother Dearest, is an excellent question.

  “Fine.”

  She crosses her arms, smiling in a way that makes me want to avoid the question. “Just fine?”

  “We’re great, okay? Landon’s great.”

  The scary thing is I mean it with my whole heart. Landon is great…and we’re pretty great together. Too bad our poor relationship—or whatever you want to call it—is doomed. Star-crossed lovers and all that.

  “He seems sweet,” she says, getting all gooey and mom-ish on me. “And his family is wonderful.”

  Yes, I know. It’s like she’s insistent on rubbing lemon juice on a wound—and she doesn’t even know she’s doing it.