“Sore subject?” She slowed.
“You could say that.”
They walked in silence across the beach, the memory of simpler times ringing in the air above them. So many summers they’d spent together in this very spot, though in those days, Emily never would’ve imagined sweet little Hollis would grow up to be, well, Hollis McGuire.
“So you’re kind of famous.” She grinned at him.
“Nah, I’m just a ballplayer.”
She ran her shoulder into his. “Whatever, Mr. Modest.”
“Well, I haven’t been on Broadway,” he said, pushing her back.
“No, but you do have a daughter.” She glanced at him.
He grew quiet. “That I do.”
“What’s the story there?” She knew she had no right to his personal information, but why pretend she wasn’t curious? They were beyond pleasantries after spending the evening together—and she wanted to know. Besides, tact had never been her strong suit. He knew that as well as anybody.
“It’s not really a story,” he said. “I was young and stupid and making a lot of money. I made some poor choices. Forgot who I am.”
“Forgot who you are?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m not the kind of guy who hooks up with someone he’s just met.”
A slightly uncomfortable silence followed.
“So, you and Jolie’s mom?”
“Just friends,” he said, practically cutting her off.
“And Jolie?”
“What about Jolie?”
“Seems tense.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been back here about five hours and already you’re digging for my dirty laundry?”
“Just doing my job as your oldest and dearest friend.”
He laughed. “Same old Emily.”
She gave him a soft shrug.
“What about you? Got any skeletons in your closet?”
She smiled flirtatiously. “More than you can count.”
It was only partly true, because while she’d made her fair share of poor relationship choices, she was also mostly talk. Truth was, most days she battled insecurity just like every other woman on the planet. And never having let herself get close to anyone only fed into those insecurities.
But she’d created a certain image for herself—confident, aloof, life of the party. The persona she wore when she didn’t feel like wearing the truth, which, now that she thought about it, was pretty much all the time.
Truth was messy. This was easier.
And Emily liked easier. Or she had. These days, she wasn’t so sure she had the energy for pretense.
They were in her backyard now, and the thought of what was in front of her tied her stomach into a tight knot. The sight of the patio, even in the darkness, broke her heart. Once upon a time, it had been filled with giant pots of vibrant flowers. Now it was covered with weeds.
Hollis must’ve sensed her concern because he slowed his pace and said, “We’ll be over to help with the yard.”
She shook her head. “You don’t have to do that. It’s not your responsibility.”
“McGuires take care of their own.” A grin crept across his face.
She didn’t bother correcting him. If he wanted to treat her like family, who was she to stop him? And she knew to keep him at arm’s length.
Don’t get too attached.
Emily started off toward the front of the house. She reached the porch and saw her suitcase waiting for her. She slipped her hand in her pocket and pulled out the key, rubbing her forefinger and thumb on either side of it.
She felt Hollis watching her and quickly ordered herself to get it together. “Okay, here goes.” Did her voice sound as shaky as it felt?
She met his eyes and quickly smiled, then turned back to the door. Why was this so difficult?
“Want me to go in with you?”
His kindness caught her off guard. She could hear her heart responding without her permission. Yes, please, come in with me. I don’t think I can do this alone. But before she could make another huge mistake, she heard herself say, “No thanks. I’ll be okay.”
He gave her a nod but said nothing else.
“Really, thank you.” It would be easier without him watching her.
“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He started to walk away but quickly turned back around. “And, Emily?”
She met his eyes.
“I’m glad you’re back.”
Hollis returned home to find Jolie waiting on the porch. She sat on the steps, Tilly at her side, and even in the darkness he could tell her mood was sour.
“Hey, kid,” he said. “What are you doing out here?”
“You’re not going to date her, are you?” Jolie snapped. Jana told him he might have some attitude to deal with. He’d had it in his mind that somehow he could win her over if she’d just give him a chance.
But all his charms were lost on his daughter. He found himself feeling awkward and tongue-tied around her.
Losing baseball had resulted in the loss of so much, including, it seemed, his ability to go with the flow—and being around Jolie only emphasized his shortcomings.
She’d fixed her face in what appeared to be a permanent scowl, and he realized she expected an answer to her question.
“What are you talking about?” He laughed as if to communicate something much more lighthearted than her expression conveyed.
“Emily,” Jolie said. “You walked her home. Did you kiss her?”
“JoJo, I think you’re confused.” He sat down next to her, and she scooted over. “Besides, do you really care who I date?”
“I care if you date Emily.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.
Hollis frowned. “Why?”
“Because I like her.” She glowered now, making it obvious that as much as Hollis didn’t understand grown women, he understood preteen girls even less.
“I like her too, Jolie,” Hollis said. “She’s a very old friend.”
“But she’s pretty.”
“Sure, she’s pretty.” So pretty. Take-your-breath-away pretty. Throughout dinner, while Hayes rambled on about his escapades all over the globe, Hollis stole glimpses of her, two words flitting through his mind in utter disbelief: Emily Ackerman.
He thought he’d never see her again after that summer. He hoped—every year, he hoped—but the house next door remained empty. The Ackerman family was wealthy enough to hold on to a property they never used, but it still seemed crazy to him.
For years, the house had suffered. His family always mowed the lawn and pulled the weeds. His mother planted new hydrangeas when the old ones stopped blooming, and they would’ve done the same this summer if Emily hadn’t returned. But nothing about the Ackerman cottage was ever the same.
It was as if it were frozen in time, as if Emily’s grandparents were afraid to change anything for fear of ruining whatever good memories they had of the place.
But how often did anyone think of the good memories when the bad ones were so very bad?
“Dad?”
“Sorry, what?” Had Jolie asked him a question he didn’t hear?
“This is how I know you like her,” Jolie said with a pout.
“How?”
“You look all dopey and you zone out. Mom did that all the time, every time she started dating a new guy.” Jolie wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled them close.
“What’s wrong with me liking Emily?”
“You ruin things, Dad. You’ll like her for a little while and then you won’t like her and she’ll never come around again. Just look at you and Mom.”
“Is that what you think?” Did Jana give her these ideas?
She looked at him pointedly. “Let’s be honest, Dad. You don’t have the best track record when it comes to relationships.”
“I’ve been kind of busy, Jolie.”
“Lots of other guys on your team had wives and kids.”
Her words hung there be
tween them. It was the unspoken truth he didn’t have the courage to confront.
“Just don’t date Emily,” Jolie said. “She’s too nice for you.” His daughter stood up and looked at him. “Promise.”
The memory of Emily’s sweet smile raced through his mind. He looked at his daughter. Jolie’s being here this summer was his second chance, and he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it. He couldn’t—he knew he wouldn’t get another shot. “I have no plans to date Emily, JoJo.”
“Promise, Dad.”
“Fine, kid. I promise.”
She spun around on her heel and walked back inside the house, leaving Hollis on the porch with too many unwanted thoughts.
CHAPTER 9
MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND, 1989
JD’s workday slogged on. He caddied for a first-class blowhard named Rich Heard, which meant most of his afternoon was spent listening to the guy talk about how great he was, how much money he had, and why everyone else was an idiot.
JD wasn’t sure he’d last the entire summer carrying golf clubs for guys who were perfectly capable of carrying their own.
Mostly, he spent the afternoon thinking about the girl he’d met on the beach that morning. He knew the Ackerman name (who didn’t?) and he’d already been warned by two different people not to even attempt to date Isabelle, but he didn’t like being told what to do. If he was honest, it only made him want to date her more.
After he came off the course, he went straight to the staff locker room and cleaned up, wishing he had time for a shower. Wishing he had time to perfect his look before picking her up.
He hurried into a pair of khaki shorts—the same kind so many guys wore to the club, only without the designer label—and a striped polo shirt, which made him feel like an impostor.
Who was he trying to fool? He hardly had enough money to buy her a burger—it wasn’t like he could pretend more money into his wallet. One last glance in the mirror, and he figured this was as good as it was going to get.
As he left the club, Alan Ackerman strolled toward the pro shop with an older man.
Isabelle’s dad didn’t give JD a second glance. Typical.
He made his way down the sidewalk toward Children’s Beach, arguing with himself the whole way. He could just not show up—save himself the heartache of falling for a girl he had no business asking out in the first place.
And he was pretty sure if either of them were in danger of falling, it was him.
But no matter how much he tried to reason with himself, he couldn’t convince himself to go back.
He turned down the road and spotted her, sitting on a bench looking out across the water.
He stopped for a second. Let himself stare.
Her long, dark hair was pulled back into a loose braid, and she wore a flowy floral top with a pair of white shorts. Her skin was already slightly tanned, as if today hadn’t been her first day on the beach.
The sun lit her from behind, wrapping her in the perfect yellowish hue, and that’s when JD knew there was no going back.
Yes, he’d likely get his heart broken, but Isabelle was worth the risk.
He made his way across the grass toward the bench where she sat, eyes glued to her the entire time.
He felt completely unworthy.
He walked up behind the bench and drew in a deep, shaky breath.
Last chance to get out of here.
“Bella?”
She turned and faced him, and her big blue eyes nearly knocked the wind out of him.
“You’re late,” she said.
He glanced at his watch. “Only three minutes.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I was working up the courage to come over here.”
She held his gaze for a long moment, then looked away, doing a poor job of hiding her smile.
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
She shook her head.
He’d managed to scrounge enough money together to take her somewhere nice—at least, he’d have enough if he limited what he ate.
“There’s a place down on the beach where you can get hot dogs and fries,” she said.
He glanced at her. “You don’t have to do that.”
Her forehead puckered. “Do what?”
“I have money to take you to a real restaurant.” He didn’t like feeling this way, like he wasn’t good enough. Maybe this was a bad idea.
She groaned. “Maybe I’m tired of ‘real’ restaurants,” she said.
He watched her as she looked away.
“I don’t want to be a stuffy little rich girl anymore, okay?”
He slid onto the bench next to her.
She steeled her jaw as she stared out in front of her. A toddler ran by, naked, his mom chasing him, waving a tiny bathing suit over her head.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t have a great day.”
He tried not to stare at her, but she had him in a sort of trance. Her jaw twitched, only slightly and barely noticeable, and in that moment he realized that just because a person had money, that didn’t automatically mean their life was easy.
“You know what?” he said. “If you’re looking to escape your world for the night, I think I can help.”
He reached over and took one of her folded hands in his. She stared at his hand wrapped around hers but didn’t pull away. He decided he liked the way her skin felt and hoped he could hold on to her hand for the rest of the night.
He stood, tugged her to her feet, and planted himself directly in front of her, forcing her eyes to meet his. “Whatever it is that’s bothering you, do you think you can forget about it for a couple of hours?”
She shrugged softly. “You don’t know my mother.” The wind pulled a strand of hair from her braid, and without thinking, he reached out and tucked it behind her ear. She didn’t shrink under his touch, but her breath caught and she looked away.
In that moment, he knew Isabelle was special. She was precious—untouched. He’d be surprised if she’d ever had a boyfriend or even kissed anyone. He wouldn’t take advantage of that. He was more experienced, sure, but that meant he knew the difference between a fling and something real.
He didn’t need another moment with her to know this could be something real.
And as they walked away from Children’s Beach, excitement welled up inside him at the prospect of discovering Isabelle for himself.
When JD didn’t let go of her hand, Isabelle felt her stomach flip-flop, and she wondered if this was what it felt like to have a boyfriend. No wonder her friends acted so goofy about boys they liked. Isabelle had never understood before because she’d never found a boy who looked at her the way JD did.
The fight with her mother that afternoon might as well have been her life stuck on repeat. She never seemed to live up to her mom’s standards. Why it still bothered her so much was something of a mystery.
Mom wanted her to be the perfect high society daughter, and Isabelle wanted to be herself. She didn’t like the way her parents and their friends treated people, and she didn’t want to put on an Eliza-approved dress and go to a luncheon the following day. Her mother didn’t understand why not.
And Isabelle hadn’t figured out how to explain herself without everything turning into a giant argument, which was exactly what had happened on the way out the door to meet JD.
The effects of that still hung around now. She hadn’t meant to blurt out anything about her family, but it was out, and he didn’t seem to mind.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
He met her eyes and grinned, looking a bit like a kid with a secret.
They walked down Beach Street, over to Water Street, and finally landed on Main, then turned to find themselves standing in front of Nantucket Pharmacy, an old-school soda fountain with sandwiches, hot dogs, milk shakes, and everything her mother forbade her to eat.
“You ever been here?” he asked.
She grinned. “Once, for an egg cream.”
“And?”
“It was amazing.”
“Then let’s get that.”
“And a grilled cheese?” she asked.
“Definitely.”
They went inside and stood in the line leading to the counter, still holding hands like two people who’d known each other for months, not hours.
They stepped forward and JD ordered, leaving Isabelle to glance around the space, suddenly aware that at any moment she could be spotted by someone who knew her parents. She pulled her hand from JD’s, and he stopped midsentence to look at her.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded and smiled.
The girl behind the counter looked at him, clearly annoyed that he was taking longer than he should.
He finished the order and glanced back at Isabelle, who avoided his eyes. He’d see right through her, and she knew it. How did she explain without hurting his feelings that her family situation meant they couldn’t be seen in public together?
Maybe this first date should also be their last.
Never mind the somersaulting stomach or her inability to stop inhaling the scent of him. That was all infatuation. He was showing her a lot of attention and he was really, really good-looking. But Isabelle was smarter than those vapid girls who giggled their way through conversations with cute boys. She needed to stay focused on what was important—getting through high school so she could announce to her parents she was taking a gap year to travel the world, and then maybe, if she felt like it, she’d go back to school and figure out what career she wanted.
That plan wouldn’t have their blessing, and neither would dating JD—so if she had to choose, which of those two was more important?
But as they walked out to Brant Point, the lighthouse ahead, and behind it, a stretch of beautiful ocean, JD took her hand as if it were his to take, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up.
They sat on the beach and ate their sandwiches, and they talked. For hours. He told her about college and how he was working his way through, determined to have a life different from the one his parents had.
“I don’t want to live paycheck to paycheck,” he said. “I don’t want my kids going to school in ripped jeans and holey shoes. I want to make something of myself, and I think I can. I just have to work a little harder than most people.”
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