She saw a fire behind his eyes—the need to prove himself to everyone else, to people like her parents. Did her situation only make that feeling of inadequacy that much worse?
The sun set, and the beach grew quiet and bare, leaving just the two of them, their empty food bags, and a night sky full of stars.
He lay back on the beach and peered up into the dark sky. “You ever wish on the stars?”
She lay next to him, her face warming into a soft smile. “Every single night. I always wish on the first one I see.”
“Even tonight?”
She couldn’t say it out loud—what she’d wished when she spotted that first bright star off in the distance.
He rested his head on his fist, elbow holding him steady, and grinned at her. “You did—what did you wish?”
She shook her head, eyes still focused on the sky above her. “Nothing.”
“I’ll tell you what I wished for,” he said.
Isabelle glanced at him. “Okay.”
The corners of his mouth drew into a smile. “I wished that this wouldn’t be the last time I got to take you out.”
“Oh, really?” she asked, trying to keep her heart rate steady.
“Yeah,” he said, then dreamily—“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
She looked away, certain her cheeks had flushed bright pink and wishing for a quick escape. He made her feel a way she’d never felt before, but as much as it scared her, it also excited her—she’d never met anyone who said exactly what they thought the way JD did with such ease.
She propped herself up on her elbows, drinking in the sounds and smells of the ocean.
“You know this is a bad idea, right?” she asked.
She could practically feel his frown as he sat up and stared at her. “Why?”
She looked at him. He was older, more mature, more experienced. He was handsome and real and honest. He didn’t deserve to be put in a category simply because he wasn’t “one of them,” but she knew that’s exactly what her parents would do if they ever heard she’d gone out with him.
“Because of your parents?” he asked.
She nodded. “We’re awfully different.”
“Different can be good,” he said. “You’ll show me a world I don’t know, and I’ll do the same for you.”
She pushed herself up the rest of the way and looked at him. “It’s a bad idea.”
“It’s a bad idea, so you think we shouldn’t see each other, or it’s a bad idea, but let’s see each other anyway?”
Isabelle shook her head. She didn’t know. She was out of her depth. He shifted her sideways on the inside.
“You’ve got to feel this between us, Bella,” he said. “It can’t just be me.”
She drew in a deep breath. “But my parents . . .”
“Aren’t here right now.”
“But there’s no future for us, JD—you have to know that. Isn’t it better to end it now, before it begins?”
He reached out and touched her cheek. “It’s already begun. There’s no way I’m gonna be able to get you out of my head now.”
Her heart sputtered. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to hold on to him because he was more genuine than anyone else she knew. She liked the realness of him—and she liked his lips. They were soft and full, and when his eyes dipped down and drank her in, she imagined what it would be like to kiss him.
“Maybe we don’t think about the future,” he said. “Maybe let’s just think about this moment, right now, and let the rest of it figure itself out—later.”
That sounded good. It sounded better than good. It sounded brilliant. And Isabelle was tired of being practical. For once, she wanted to make a decision based on her own thoughts and feelings and not on something her parents instructed (or ordered) her to do.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“Just this moment right now?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” she said. “Can you convince me it’s worth ignoring what comes next?”
He smiled. “I’d like to try.”
Her stomach butterflies were back, and as he inched toward her, he didn’t take his eyes off of her for a second. He reached up and took her face in his hands, studying her with such intent it made her insides quiver.
“Can I kiss you, Bella?” he whispered.
She nodded, holding on to his gaze, then begged her breath to steady as his lips met hers. She was right—they were soft and full. His kiss was tender to start but quickly grew more hurried as he drew her closer. It occurred to her that perhaps up until this point she’d been kissing the wrong boys. She’d never much cared for kissing—but in that moment, she thought it might be her new favorite thing.
His hands moved down her back, and Isabelle marveled at the way he felt like someone she’d known for years—or maybe like someone she’d been waiting to know.
He pulled away and searched her eyes. “Sorry, I gotta calm down.”
She could practically feel his restraint and how difficult it was for him to exercise it. Something about that endeared him to her, made her feel safe.
And she felt herself falling for a boy she’d only just met and wondering how to keep his very existence a secret from parents who would most certainly not approve.
Because she understood what JD meant—there was no way she would get him out of her head now.
CHAPTER 10
EMILY FELT THE WET TONGUE OF AN ANIMAL licking her hand, rousing her from sleep. She squinted in the morning light after a very long, very uncomfortable night.
“Emily?”
She forced her eyes open and found Hollis and Jolie staring at her.
A part of her had been aware she was outside on the patio—every time she shifted positions throughout the night—but she couldn’t bring herself to face the inside of the house.
Now she felt completely exposed.
Being back in Nantucket, in this house, forced her to revisit so many feelings she’d put in the background of her life. It was like digging up a time capsule and being transported back decades in an instant.
Why had she agreed to this?
“Sorry,” Emily finally said, straightening her disheveled clothing. “I must’ve been really tired.” It wasn’t all that different from waking up on the beach after a late night out with friends. And yet it was completely different.
As she shifted, Mom’s book of letters fell on the ground. Hollis grabbed it before she could, glancing at it long enough to read the words her mother had painted on the cover.
If for Any Reason
His eyes found hers, and judging by his expression, he had questions. And concerns.
She held out a hand and he gave her the book, which she tucked neatly under her arm, avoiding his watchful eye. She’d forgotten how it felt to be looked after, fussed over.
She wasn’t sure if she liked it.
Emily had carved out a life of adventure, and her fearlessness had started at a young age. It drove Hollis nuts when she’d jump straight in the surf or dive headfirst into the pool or go hunting for crabs—which he refused to touch.
By contrast, Hollis had always been serious and practical. One summer, Emily learned what the word somber meant and decided it described him perfectly. If she were collecting words to describe him, somber and magnetic would top the list. He was like a walking oxymoron. Hollis had always been concerned about everyone else, but especially about Emily, as if he had the burden of being her protector. Clearly he hadn’t outgrown that.
“You guys are up early,” Emily said, trying to keep her tone light and truthfully oblivious to how early it was or wasn’t.
“We came over to invite you down to the beach for a picnic later and also out on this big, fancy boat my dad is renting this weekend with his baseball money,” Jolie said.
“Jolie—it belongs to a friend.” Hollis sounded embarrassed. “Em, what are you doing out here?”
Emily ignored his question and
smiled at Jolie. “A big, fancy boat, huh?”
The girl shrugged. “I mean, I’m scared of the sharks, but I’ll go if you go. Maybe we can talk about Broadway and all the other acting jobs you’ve done?”
The light in Jolie’s eyes was so familiar. She remembered when she’d first discovered a love for the stage—she was a couple of years younger than Jolie was now.
Emily wasn’t great at it—not at first. Her grandfather threatened to step in when she was cast in the chorus that first year, but his “Don’t they know who we are?” attitude was exactly what Emily’s mother despised, and Isabelle demanded that he stay out of it.
“Let her be a kid who doesn’t have everything handed to her,” she’d said. “Let her be normal.”
It had been important to Isabelle that Emily didn’t turn out to be a spoiled brat, and Emily had learned a lot being in the chorus of those shows.
The summer she was ten, she had her first speaking role. She played a lady of the court in a production of Cinderella down at the arts center. She would never forget how it felt to dance across the stage with the prince—to feel the stage lights on her face, to look out across the dark theatre and see an audience of people watching her. It was exhilarating.
The joy of performing hadn’t died with her mother, though it had changed the few years she was on television. She’d gotten the title role in the kids’ show not long after the summer she was ten and spent three years being Dottie.
She’d been so passionate about theatre in those days—but lately, performing had lost its luster. Theatre had taken a cruel turn.
Seeing how excited Jolie was at the whole idea of Broadway stirred something inside her. She’d felt it yesterday at the arts center and she felt it now, the reminder that she still had the ability to feel that kind of passion. She’d missed it, the passion for something—anything—but especially for theatre. Hollis might’ve been her first crush, but theatre had been her first love.
“I’d love to talk to you about Broadway,” Emily finally said, forcing herself out of her own mind. She had a feeling her memories would be interrupting her a lot this summer.
“Really?” Jolie grinned a big, toothy grin. “Awesome!”
Was that all it took to make a preteen girl happy? “Yes, but unfortunately, I don’t think I can come to the beach today.”
Jolie groaned. “Let me guess, you have work. Grown-ups always have work.”
“Jolie—” Hollis shot her a look, but a second later his eyes were back on Emily.
“I do, actually.” Emily motioned with her head to the house behind her. “This old place isn’t going to fix itself. I have a contractor coming over this morning.” She pulled her phone out and looked at the time. “Oh, wow. He’ll be here any minute.”
“This early?” Jolie twisted her face.
She thought about her conversation with the investment banker who was looking to “stay busy” this summer. He’d answered her ad the day before she left for Nantucket, and he’d set the time for their meeting. She would’ve definitely picked something a little more in the 10 a.m. range. Or maybe noon.
“Who is it?” Hollis asked.
Emily found Hollis’s eyes intently fixed on hers. “You won’t know him.”
“I know a lot of people.”
“His name is Jack Walker,” Emily said. “He hasn’t been on the island in a few years.”
“And you’re just going to let him in the house?”
Emily shifted. “Is that a big deal?”
“We don’t know anything about this guy, Emily.”
Already she felt like she was doing this wrong. She just wanted someone to come in and fix the house so she didn’t have to think about it.
“I’ll stay.” He had that protective stance again.
“That’s really not necessary.” Emily tried to be kind but firm. Mostly, she thought she just sounded annoyed. Did he know the number of people she’d met over the years? She knew how to take care of herself.
“Jolie, run home,” Hollis said. “Eat your breakfast, and I’ll be back just as soon as I make sure this guy checks out.”
Jolie shot Emily a look of solidarity, as if to say See what I mean? and Emily did her best not to roll her eyes at the girl’s father.
“Maybe when you’re all finished, you can come eat pancakes?” Jolie asked. The girl had obviously taken to Emily, more so than her somber but magnetic father had seemed to, anyway.
“Oh, I shouldn’t,” Emily said. “I already barged in on your meal last night.”
“Dad, tell her she should come eat pancakes.” Jolie glanced at Hollis, who shifted uncomfortably.
“You should come eat pancakes,” he said unenthusiastically.
Emily shot him a look. “I don’t think I have time. Hollis, really, I’m fine here. You can even watch from a distance to make sure he doesn’t murder me, wrap my body in a sheet, and toss it in the back of his work truck.”
“Ew.” Jolie grimaced.
“Sorry,” Emily said, realizing her commentary was a little gruesome for a kid.
“Aunt Harper is coming,” Jolie said, unfazed.
Hollis didn’t move—he was still stewing about the contractor, Emily could tell.
“I’d love to see her,” Emily said, turning her attention toward her younger visitor. “Maybe you could text me when it would be a good time to stop over later?” She directed that last part to Hollis.
“Sure, if you give me your number.” Hollis met her eyes and Emily hung on to his gaze for too long.
“Give me your number,” Jolie said. “I promise I won’t spam text you.” She reached in her back pocket, pulled out the latest iPhone, and handed it to Emily.
“Oh,” Emily said. “You have a phone.”
“Everyone has a phone.” Jolie sat down in one of the chairs across from Emily.
Emily’s eyes darted to Hollis, who only shrugged. She punched her number into Jolie’s phone and handed it back to the girl.
“Okay, now let’s take a picture.” Jolie tapped around on her device, then pointed it at Emily.
Instinctively, Emily put her hands in front of her face. “I just woke up.”
Jolie snapped. “Too late.” She tapped around again, then grinned. “Done.” She turned the phone around and showed the photo to Emily. “I think you look beautiful.”
There was something sweet about the way she said it—something genuine—that made Emily pause.
“I’ll text you after Aunt Harper gets here!” Jolie hopped off the chair and walked over to Tilly, tossing Hollis a quick look over her shoulder. “Ready?”
Emily could still feel Hollis’s attention on her—concerned, protective. When would he learn she didn’t need anyone protecting her?
Emily found her brave face and stood up, doing her best to reassure Hollis that everything was absolutely fine.
“Are you gonna be okay?” Hollis asked, eyes drilling a hole straight through her.
Emily didn’t like this. She didn’t like that even after all these years, he seemed to sense things about her that she wanted to keep to herself.
“I’m fine, Hollis.” Her tone was colder, shorter than she’d intended, but she couldn’t have Hollis hovering over her like this. She was a grown-up. She’d figure this out her own way.
“I’m not talking about the contractor,” he said.
She pretended not to understand. “Then what are you talking about?”
“You slept outside.”
“I like the stars.”
He knew she was lying—it was clear on his face. “Em.”
She met his eyes—earnest and kind—and softened, just slightly. “I’m fine,” she said again, this time with more kindness.
He watched her for a few seconds, then finally gave her a nod and started off toward Jolie.
“Bye, Emily!” the girl called out.
Emily lifted her hand lamely and waved at them as they strolled off.
She groaned, running her
hands over her face. I’m such a jerk.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced down and saw a text from a number not in her contacts.
Hi, Emily. It’s Jolie. I wanted you to have my number. And here’s a photo you can use for my contact. Do you think it would make a good headshot?
Emily smiled. Jolie might be the best person she knew. Would it be weird to befriend a twelve-year-old? Adults were so untrustworthy.
She turned her attention back to the house and drew in a breath. “All right,” she said to herself. “Let’s really get this over with.”
CHAPTER 11
EMILY TRUDGED BACK to the front porch, all the time reciting the same phrase to herself: I can do hard things.
She stood there, holding the small book of letters. The words in her mother’s “For When You Want to Give Up” letter raced through her mind—she practically had this one memorized.
My dear Emily,
People will tell you God will never give you more than you can handle. I disagree. God allows us more than we can handle so we have to rely on him. After all, if we could handle everything life throws at us, why would we need God at all?
Her mother was right. God had certainly given Emily more than she could handle. He’d allowed the accident that claimed her mom’s life. How could her mom expect her to trust God for anything after that?
And let’s be honest, after the way Emily had lived her life, she was pretty sure she’d run him off a long time ago.
Emily stood on the porch, staring at the door for the third time when suddenly it all felt ridiculous. She was putting so much weight on this house. It was only a house. And at the moment, not even a nice house.
She needed to jump in the deep end and get this over with. It was why she was here, after all.
Before she could muster the nerve, she heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. She turned and saw a red pickup ambling up the driveway.
Jack Walker was a punctual man. Normally this would be a tremendous asset, but on a day when Emily had woken up on the patio, it read more like a shortcoming.
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