One Distant Summer

by Serena Clarke

  Jess looked at her. “What happened with you guys? He was a mess.”

  She couldn’t decide if him being a mess was a consolation or not. Probably not. “His mom found us in bed together and freaked out. I guess he couldn’t handle it, on top of everything else.”

  Jess gasped. “That’s horrific. I would die.”

  “What are you going to do?” Danielle asked.

  “Do?” She waved the question away. “Brace myself, I guess. Hope it blows over quickly. People go nuts over stuff like this.”

  Now that her career was possibly heading for even shakier ground, she realized something. It was one thing to step away for a while, or think about making changes that would be unpopular with her label, and maybe with some of the fans she had. Even to consider walking away entirely, as her own decision. It was completely different to imagine it being snatched away by thin-lipped moralists and keyboard warriors, who’d revel in tearing her down for her youthful missteps.

  “I shouldn’t have come back here,” she added. “I just wanted a break, to figure out how do things on my own terms. But you know, maybe that’s just naïve. Once you put yourself out there, it’s like everyone owns a little piece of you.”

  “Not here,” Jess said. “Here you’re just you.”

  Her words resonated in Jacinda’s weary heart, an echo of what Liam had said. You could be. She could be herself, here in the bay. And she had been, just for a short time, with him. That glimpse of herself would have to be enough to sustain her back in her real, unreal life, a seed that she’d grow into something true and strong.

  As if to confirm it, Danielle spoke. “You’re right,” she said to Jess. Then she turned to Jacinda. “It’s a shame you can’t stay forever…but we know you have a life to get on with.”

  Jess nodded, and Jacinda let out a breath. This had been an insane day. “Things come in threes, right?” she said. “Today it’s been Liam’s mom, my asshole manager betraying my best friend, and now Lainey Kingsley on my doorstep with probably the scoop of her year.”

  “Your manager?” Danielle asked.

  “He and Hannah are married. But he’s been cheating on her.”

  “Bloody hell.” She shook her head. “It never rains…”

  “Apparently.” Then she sat up. “I need to get back to her,” she said. “Can you manage without me?”

  “Yes,” Danielle said. “I’ve got the job, and now Sam has friends he could stay with if necessary. And Nadia said she’d help out if I need anything.”

  “That’s great,” Jacinda said. “You’re on your way.”

  Danielle smiled. “I think so. And now you can get on your way too. Even though we’d rather have you here.”

  “Thanks.” She looked at Jess. “And thank you too.”

  “I don’t need thanks,” she said. “After what I said that night…” Her cheeks reddened.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jacinda said. “You were only saying what everyone thought.”

  And what the rest of the world will probably think now.

  “But I can’t let this bring everything to a halt,” she added, standing up. “I have things to do.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  She’d said her goodbyes. To Riley, who’d arrived in a flap just in time, and to Jess. And to Velvet and the kittens, with a smooch for each of them. Sam had arrived home, so Nadia came over with Izzy and Oliver to babysit, leaving Danielle free to drive her to the airport.

  “But Jacinda, when are you coming back?” Sam asked as they said goodbye.

  “One day. But not for a while.” She hugged him tight. “Rock on, okay?”

  “I will,” he said confidently. “Liam has more chords to teach me.”

  “That’s cool,” she said. And meant it. Things might have gone to shit with Liam for her, but no one should get between a kid and his music. She and Liam both knew that.

  Now she paused for a moment at the gate, and looked back at Nana Mac’s house. It still felt like home, maybe even more than her place in Los Feliz. It was the place she’d hit her lowest point, but also the place she’d risen from.

  In a strange way, the events of this trip had brought her two selves together. Jacinda Prescott and Cin Scott didn’t have to be facing different directions. They could stand together, moving forward. And here, in the little wooden house on Tui Street, was the place to leave her memories of Ethan and the baby. She wouldn’t forget—not at all—but maybe now she could let the past rest a little easier. She looked along to the Ward house. Maybe if she was gone, Liam and his mom could do the same. She’d leave without a word, just like he’d done that first night, leaving her to discover his absence. Like he’d said then, it was better this way.

  She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, defying the emotions that spiraled up in a rush, a sudden squall of anger, disappointment, and what-ifs. She was going back to LA to make sure Hannah was okay, and goddamn it, she’d be okay too. And so would Liam, eventually. In truth, she was only getting in the way of his healing, muddying things up again, stirring up memories and guilt every time they were together. They couldn’t be okay together, but individually, they had a chance.

  Then she took one last breath of the fragrant, salt-kissed Sweet Breeze Bay air, and got into the car.

  * * *

  As Liam went into the living room, three faces turned to look at him. Connor and Dane were perched awkwardly on the couch, each holding a cup of coffee. And his mother didn’t look much happier than when he’d left a few hours before.

  “Liam,” she said, getting up. “Where have you been?”

  “At the double K,” he said.

  He saw Dane and Connor exchange glances. Yeah, I went there, he wanted to say. What of it?

  “After everything that happened, you left me here to go and get drunk,” his mother said, disgust in her tone.

  “I’m not drunk.” Then he rethought it. “Okay, maybe I am. But I never needed a drink more than I did today.”

  She huffed. “So irresponsible.”

  “What happened?” Connor asked, looking from Liam to his mother, and back again.

  So she hadn’t told them. No surprise there.

  “Great story,” he said. “Mum came upstairs this morning and found me and Jacinda…”

  When it came to it, he couldn’t say the words. Not with his mother standing there. But judging by the expressions on his friends’ faces, he didn’t need to.

  “Holy shit,” Connor said.

  Dane’s eyes were wide, but he held his tongue.

  Liam nodded. “Yep. It was awesome.”

  His mother looked infuriated, probably at both his revelation and his sarcastic tone. “Was there any need to tell them that?” she said.

  “Would you rather say nothing?” he asked her. “Would you rather keep everything a secret, like we’ve had to do for the last ten years?”

  She blinked, color rushing to her cheeks. “That’s enough.”

  But he couldn’t stop himself. More than a decade’s worth of frustration and guilt and secrecy was coming to the boil, and he had to take the lid off, no matter who else was here.

  “What was the point of running like that?” he asked her. “We could have stayed. We could have rebuilt our lives, with our friends around us.”

  Dane stood up. “Uh…we actually just came to say goodbye. Maybe we’d better leave you to it.”

  But no one paid any attention. He sat down again.

  “You know what the point was,” Liam’s mom replied.

  “Yeah, for the sake of Dad’s job. I know the drill. But for what? It was just an everyday tragedy. There was nothing illegal about what happened.”

  As he said it, he saw something change in her face.

  “What?” he said, a sharp alert slicing through the bourbon fog. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I never wanted to keep you in the dark.” With a deep sigh, she sat down too, clenching her hands on her lap. Then she looked at him. “The corone
r’s report found drugs in his system.”

  He frowned. “What kind of drugs?”

  “Ecstasy. That’s why we kept it secret. Your father had to pull strings to have the report suppressed.”

  Liam swayed on his feet. Even the dead have secrets. The dead, and their parents.

  “Oh, shit,” Dane muttered.

  Everyone looked at him, and he shifted in his seat.

  “Do you know something about it?” Liam asked.

  He winced. “Not specifically.”

  “Generally, then.” His tone suggested that Dane would be wise to volunteer the information himself.

  “My brother, Blake,” Dane said. “He lives in Singapore now. But…he used to deal.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Connor said.

  “Me neither, until after he left the country. I went to visit him a few years ago, when I had a diving contract over there, and he told me. He’s a straight-up family man now.” He looked at Liam’s mother. “I’m sorry, Carol.”

  She hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. “We don’t know if Ethan got it from him,” she said. “But I’m glad he’s put it behind him.”

  Liam felt something niggling at him, a sort of karmic dissonance.

  “Wait a second,” he said to her. “You forgive Dane’s brother for probably selling Ethan the drugs that could have tipped him over the edge, but you’re still blaming Jacinda?”

  She had no reply to that. He watched, feeling deadly calm, as she pursed her lips, denial all over her face.

  “You know I’m in love with her,” he said. The words were confession and accusation, aimed squarely at his mother.

  “I knew it!” Connor exclaimed, but Dane shushed him.

  Liam waited for her to reply—for the inevitable anger and resentment.

  Instead, she burst into tears. “I never wanted to take you away from here,” she sobbed. “But we realized that if it came out that your father had the report suppressed, he’d never work on the force again, in any country. It was better to slip away and quietly make a new start. And anyway, I couldn’t keep looking at that ocean every single day, lying in bed at night listening to the never-ending waves, remembering. Night and day, day in and day out…”

  “Ah, shit.” Liam hesitated for a moment. Then he went over and sat next to her, and awkwardly gathered her in for a hug. She leaned her head against him, weeping as he patted her back, and soon the front of his t-shirt was damp.

  “And now she’s back,” she said into his chest, her voice somewhere between incredulous and bitter. “And you’re sleeping with her…”

  At that, he let her go.

  “I love her,” he said, low and uncompromising.

  “You think you do,” she said. “But you’re just caught up in her looks, the way Ethan was. How could you do that to the memory of your brother?”

  And she started to cry again, her face crumpled and her shoulders shaking.

  This is your mother, he told himself, as rage ran through his veins. She’s still grieving. Fists clenched, he thought about Jacinda. Thought about the guilt. Thought about everything they’d acknowledged and worked through, to give themselves a chance at finding love and closure. She was beautiful, but she was so much more than that.

  He stood up and looked at Connor and Dane, still sitting in silence with their coffees, which were no doubt cold by now. “When are you leaving?” he asked them.

  “Not until the morning,” Dane said. “But we both have early flights.”

  He glanced at his mother, who was still caught up in her anger and tears. “Can you stay here with her for a while, make sure she’s okay? There’s something I need to do.”

  “No worries,” Connor said.

  “Go get her,” Dane added quietly.

  He nodded. That was exactly what he intended to do.

  * * *

  He peered over Danielle’s shoulder, hardly registering the words she’d spoken.

  “Liam, she’s not here,” she repeated.

  “But I need to talk to her.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You had all day to do that. And now you can’t. She’s gone.”

  The truth in her words stung, but he forced himself to stay focused. “What time is her flight?”

  “Six thirty.”

  He looked at his watch, calculating the drive to the airport at this time of day, heading into rush hour.

  But she shook her head. “She will have gone through customs by the time you get there.”

  Still standing on the doorstep, he took out his phone and hit Jacinda’s name. It went straight to answerphone, a robotic male voice inviting him to leave a message. With a groan, he ended the call and stuffed the phone back in his pocket.

  “Turned off?” Danielle asked.

  “Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair, cursing his own stupidity. What was that Connor had said about being an idiot? “I totally screwed up.”

  She snorted. “It’s not all about you, you know. She’s had a terrible day all round. Her friend Hannah is having a crisis in LA. And a reporter turned up here, asking her about Ethan, and you.” She narrowed her eyes. “Any idea how that came about?”

  A sick jolt went through his guts. “A reporter?”

  “Her name’s Lainey Kingsley. Apparently you know her. American? Went to the double K today?”

  He tipped backward. The American woman. She’d stood next to him at the night markets, and seen how he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jacinda on stage. She’d sat next to him at the pub, while he’d indulged in his own misery, and listened to his story. He’d fallen for her fake sympathy, and given everything away—including the fact that they were neighbors. Then he’d walked home, bourbon-laced and unthinking, probably with the reporter on his tail. He’d led a reporter right to her door.

  And now Jacinda would have to pay for his fuck-up.

  As the implications sank in, Danielle was watching him.

  “So yeah,” she said. “You totally screwed up.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The airplane icon moved slowly but steadily, tracking across the screen set into the seat in front of her. Jacinda ran a finger over the blue expanse of the Pacific, from the small islands of New Zealand at bottom left, to where the States loomed on the right. The distance was greater than pixels on a screen, or miles across an ocean. It was the distance between the future she’d almost had, and the future that awaited her in reality.

  She sighed and leaned back, looking out the window to where daylight was fading on the horizon. It was going to be a long flight, especially knowing what she’d find at the other end. At least she hadn’t gotten on board and discovered Lainey Kingsley sitting across the aisle.

  And there was one thing she could do to pass the time. She pulled out her laptop and set it on the tray table in front of her. She’d been struggling with the chapters she was supposed to write for the book, but now she knew what to write. It wasn’t what they’d asked for, exactly—but it would be the most honest advice she could give any young woman starting out. She opened the document, and started over.

  * * *

  After dragging through customs at LA airport, Jacinda put on a baseball cap, pulled the brim down low over her sunglasses, and stepped out into arrivals. In almost any other city, walking out in sunglasses would make you more conspicuous, not less. But this was LA—she’d be just one of many.

  Hannah had replied to her text before she left, promising that a car would be there for her, and saying that the driver would be looking for a passenger called Shelley Breeze. Jacinda had laughed at her clever choice of name, and hoped like hell that Ms. Breeze would get out undetected. Now she looked at the line-up of drivers holding signs, searching for her own.

  Just as she caught sight of it, she heard someone shout her name. But not Ms. Breeze, and not Jacinda Prescott.

  “Cin! Cin Scott!”

  She veered toward her driver like a fox dodging hounds, but there was no escape. Within a mome
nt she was being jostled by reporters, flashes going off around her as bystanders gawped at the commotion.

  “Is it true?” one of them asked, thrusting a mike in front of her. “Did your teenage lover commit suicide when you left him?”

  “Why are you sleeping with his brother now?” another called, trying to elbow closer.

  She put her head down and silently plowed on, her heart going like a jackhammer in her chest as they milled around her. When she reached the driver, he took her suitcase in one hand and put the other arm around her, shielding her from the onslaught.

  “Come with me,” he said.

  And she did. He was tall and strong, and tucked close against him, she was sheltered from the physical danger. But he couldn’t protect her from the questions that kept flying, each one tearing her more apart.

  “What do you have to say to your fans?”

  “What about the baby?”

  “Did you have an abortion?”

  With the paparazzi swarming around, they made it to the car, and the driver helped her in. She breathed out with relief as the door slammed shut, and the shouting was suddenly muffled. The car pulled away from the curb, leaving the melee behind. Then, behind the tinted windows, shut off from the driver’s seat, she leaned back, rested her head against the seat, and let herself cry. Just one time. For everything that might have been, but never was. And never would be.

  Then, as they hit the freeway, she sat up straight, blew her nose, and got out her phone to call Hannah and let her know they were on the way. Now, she’d have to be strong.

  When they arrived to collect Hannah, she was waiting by the front door with her bags packed. Jacinda went up the steps and pulled her into a fierce hug.