I turn to Monica, who has been uncharacteristically quiet through all of this. “What do you think about Georgia Tech?”
“I think it’s a tough school, and the math is going to suck, but they’ve got some fantastic programs, and there’s a lady in the disability services department—a dyslexia specialist—but she totally gets dyscalculia. I think she could be a really good resource for you.”
“You talked to someone there?” I ask.
Monica shrugs. “Like six months ago when your dad was so hot on you about it. I had to check out my competition.”
I let out a huff, trying to process all of this.
“I’m shit,” Monica says. “I’m sorry. I should have had this conversation with you back then. But I kept it from you because I didn’t want to lose you.”
Chloe sits up. “There’s a tryout on Saturday.”
I meet her serious gaze. “I know. My dad’s left me a ton of messages about it.”
Chloe leans in toward me, her eyes lit with fire. “Go. Show the coach what you can do. Get a walk on spot on the team. Make them want to work with you.”
This is all starting to seem so real—so actually in my grasp. “I’m not even enrolled there,” I say.
“You got accepted last fall,” Monica says. “I have no doubt your dad can pull the right strings to make this happen.”
My dad would pull ropes attached to mountains to make this happen.
Monica stands. “But the first thing you have to do is pass your math class. According to my watch we have exactly twenty minutes to get to the school.”
Chloe widens her eyes. “The test is right now?”
Monica shrugs. “I thought it would be a good idea for you to talk to him before the test—give him motivation to ace it.” She looks me up and down. “It’s not like his tutor can do that for him. I’ll be outside.” She smiles as she heads toward the door.
Chloe stands and does a shooing motion with her hands. “Go, get out of here.”
I stand and consider her. Georgia Tech isn’t far from where she lives. I hope some of her motivation for this pep talk had something to do with that, but at this point I can’t be sure.
“Are you staying for a while?” I ask.
She nods. “I’m here until the wedding…or until your mom kicks me out, whichever comes first.”
“Oh shit,” I say. “My mom.”
“We’ll deal with it after the test. Just go.” She turns me around and gives me a shove toward the door.
I slip on my flip flops and rest a hand on the doorknob. “Thank you, for coming here.”
She nods. “Good luck. I’ll be there when you get done.”
Chapter Fifty
Chloe
I wait for Landon in the parking lot of his high school. I’m afraid to go home right now. I’m not sure when or if my dad has talked to Cynthia, but what I do know is I want Landon and me to face her together. First off though, I need to make sure there is a Landon and me.
Monica dropped me here a half hour ago, and I’ve been waiting in the passenger seat of Landon’s Jeep ever since, my nails all down to the quick now.
The door opens, and Landon strides out, his brow furrowed, glancing around. He catches sight of me and slows down. I get out of the Jeep and stand beside it, rubbing my hands together as my heart pounds away.
“How did you do?” I ask.
He shrugs. “We’ll find out in a couple of days.”
I peer at him. “If you had to guess?”
He lets a hint of a smile through and gives a slight nod.
I close my eyes and cover my heart in relief, letting out a huge breath.
“How did you get here?” he asks.
“Monica dropped me off.”
He rests his back against the Jeep and kicks his foot over on top of the other one.
I take a chance and run a finger down his forearm, my hand shaky. He doesn’t move. “I’m so sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing closing you off. I was so afraid you were going to come to Cliff Ridge and miss this test.”
He squints at me. “It was Monica, wasn’t it?”
I shake my head. I can’t let her take all the blame.
“I knew you’d been through a lot at the police station, but you were distant before you even knew you had to go make that statement. It started that night after Monica left. She talked to you while I was on the phone with Mrs. Keeley, didn’t she?”
I don’t answer.
“I figured it out in there.” He points at his school building. “Mrs. Keeley mentioned something about our conversation and the light bulb went off.”
“Don’t be mad at Monica. She was only trying to help, and she wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t supportive of you like I should have been. I didn’t want to make you talk about it if you didn’t want to, then as the days went by I sort of downplayed what you deal with in my mind. I should have been encouraging you to go meet with her, not letting you off the hook.”
He frowns, looking down at his feet. “It’s not your fault I lost interest in school. This has been coming for longer than you can imagine. It’s so weird going from acing an AP Literature paper to failing a fourth grade level math test. Sometimes I can’t even figure out who I am. People see me as smart and expect a lot from me, and I can’t deliver, not all around. You were my escape from all of that. You didn’t have expectations or demands. You gave me a break from my learning disability, but it was up to me to pull myself back up and get my ass back to work.” He gives me a hint of a grin.
I tuck my hair behind my ear, but it mostly just springs back out. He takes my hand, and a shiver runs up my body like the first time he touched my hand lying on his bed that day listening to our playlist.
“The whole Georgia Tech thing,” he says, “does any part of why you want me to go there have anything to do with its proximity to your hometown?”
My chest burns. Busted. I rub my thumb along his hand. “It certainly didn’t hurt my motivation.”
He pulls me toward him, and I collapse against him, my head resting on his chest. I breathe him in. “Are we going to be okay?”
He rubs his hand over my back, and I close my eyes, relaxing for the first time since I left his arms last.
“We already are.”
Epilogue
Chloe
My dad checks his watch for the hundredth time.
The wedding coordinator puts a calming hand on his forearm. “I will let you know when it’s time to go up. Trust me, you don’t want to get up there too early—it will just be that much longer for you to have to sweat it out in front of all these people.”
My dad nods quickly.
The wedding coordinator gives him a smile. “You’re going to be just fine. I’m going to check on our bride.”
She nudges me and gives a nod of her head toward my dad, indicating I should calm his nerves. Boy, does she not know her audience today.
He turns to me. “How are you doing? Are you okay?”
I laugh. “I’m fine, Dad. I’m not the one getting married.”
He gives me a stern eye. “Don’t even joke about something like that.”
I giggle, sneaking a glance at Landon who has been gallantly ushering people up the sandy, makeshift aisle marked with candles in white paper bags, lighting their pathway toward the trellis, the ocean as the ceremony’s backdrop.
My dad brings his hand to his forehead, and in the process knocks his corsage off his jacket.
“Crap. That wedding coordinator lady has put that damn thing on me three times already.” He glances around like he’s a teenager about to get reprimanded for breaking curfew.
“Here.” I hold out my hand. “Let me try.”
He hands me the corsage, and I go to work pinning it on his tuxedo lapel. He looks all around at first, and then f
inally sets his gaze on me.
I step back, mission accomplished. “All good. Just try not to move your arms again and you’ll be all set.”
“You look beautiful today, sweetie. Have I told you that yet?” he asks.
I smile, still inspecting the corsage. He did tell me that at least three times, but a girl can’t really hear her typically distant dad tell her she’s beautiful enough times.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Thank you, for spending the summer with me.”
I look at the ground. “You sure you want to thank me? It almost cost you a wife.”
He waves that off. “Nothing like that. Her main concern was your mother. She didn’t want Karen to think you were at risk this summer because of her son. But, since your mom talked to her and let her know she’s fine with it, Cynthia’s been coming around.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Because of me her son is going to school five hours away from her rather than one.”
He gives a shrug. “That’s what I’m here for. To fill her empty nest.”
I smile. “I’m really happy for you, Dad. I really am.”
“Thanks, sweetie.”
The wedding coordinator starts heading our way with a plastered on smile. I hold a finger up to her, and she stops in her tracks, befuddled. I give her a look that says I’ll just be a second, and then plead with her wordlessly. She must understand, because she graciously backs away with a stern look that says I better make it quick.
I turn toward my dad who is back to glancing around the beach, hopefully not looking for an escape route.
“Dad,” I say.
He looks up.
“I needed you,” I say.
He blinks, furrowing his brow.
I look down at my hands. “Last May, when Mom picked me up from the pontoon boat. She told you not to come, but I really could have used you there.”
He puts a hand on my arm. “I hope you know I would have come if—”
“I know you would have. Actually, I didn’t know that. Not until Mom told me last week. I had no idea. But I know it now. And I know you tried. And I want you to know that if you would have come…if she would have let you come…I would have liked that.”
“Sweetie—”
I start in a rush. “I mean that would have been crazy because I was scheduled to come here in just a few weeks, and so it wouldn’t have made any sense for you to come all the way home just to be in the house with me but—”
He takes my other arm squaring himself in front of me. “It doesn’t matter what kind of sense it makes. I always want to be there for you when you need me.”
I nod, doing my best to hold back the tears.
He lets his shoulders fall, averting his gaze. “I know I’m not the easiest person to…talk to, but I want you to know that if you need me…I’m…”
He swipes at his eyes which sends the tears flowing out of mine. “I want to get to know you, Dad.”
He nods, his expression strained. “I want to know you, too.”
I throw my arms around him, and we hold each other there on the beach behind the gathering of people who have come to see Cynthia and my dad exchange vows. I bring him in tight, holding onto him like I haven’t seen him in a lifetime. In a way, that’s the case.
I catch sight of the wedding coordinator who stands about fifteen feet away, hands held in front of her, waiting patiently for us to finish our moment.
I pull away and motion toward her. My dad nods and hands me the fancily-folded handkerchief from his pocket. “I love you, honey, with all my heart.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
She’s by us now, with a guiding hand on my dad’s back. “It’s time.”
He nods and gives me a wink before making his way to the top of the aisle.
As my dad leaves, Landon heads toward me.
“Landon,” the coordinator says. “It’s time for you to get your mother.”
He nods. “I’m coming.”
She walks away with two taps on her watch and a raised eyebrow.
He turns to me. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “I’m great. I just finished the list.”
He starts to pull at his handkerchief, but I stop him. “Save that for your mom. I’ve got my dad’s here.” I show him the waded up mess in my hand.
He nods and rubs away a tear under my eye with his thumb. “You’re so amazing, Chloe…the person you’ve become since that day just a couple of months ago when I met you at your car in my driveway. I can’t even equate you with that girl.”
I giggle. “Me either.” I squeeze his hands. “Thanks, for helping to show me the way through.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t take any of the credit. You did every one of those things on that list by yourself.”
I look down at our clasped hands. “The list was good for me, but you showed me where to set my bar.” I meet his gaze. “And I gotta tell you, it’s sky high.”
He smiles. “Right where it should be.”
We hold each other’s gazes until he rests his forehead against mine, and we close our eyes. I drink in his touch, his scent mingling with the salty ocean air.
He squeezes my hands and pulls away. “Hey, look at this text I got just a minute ago.”
He holds up his phone showing a text from his Georgia Tech coach asking him when they could set up a time to talk.
My hands go to my mouth and I meet his gaze. “Oh my God, Landon. Do you think you made it?”
“I doubt he’d want to set up a time to talk if I didn’t.”
I throw my arms around his neck. “I’m so proud of you. You have no idea.”
“I owe it all to you.”
I shake my head. “Not at all. You’re the one who put in all the work.”
He pulls me to him and lays a kiss on me right there in front of anyone paying attention. A seagull caws as an ocean breeze blows my hair onto our faces, but it’s perfect anyway. I pull away from him, and he smiles at me. For the first time I notice a freckle on his bottom lip that I never knew was there, and I imagine all the things we have left to discover about one another.
The wedding coordinator waves us over.
He turns to me with a quirky smile. “All right, little sis. Are you ready to do this?”
I pinch him in the side for the nickname, and then I meet his gaze with a grin. “After this summer, I’m ready for anything.”
The List:
1—Go up and talk to a boy at a party.
2—Wear a bikini to the beach.
3—Take a self-defense class.
4—Sing karaoke.
5—Send a plate of food back at a restaurant.
6—Express your true feelings to someone.
7—Have a real conversation with your dad.
8—Say no to something you would otherwise say yes to out of convenience of non-confrontation.
9—Stand up to someone.
10—Kiss a boy you like.
The Playlist:
Band of Skulls—“Brothers and Sisters”
Beach Slang—“Bad Art & Weirdo Ideas”
The Moth & the Flame—“Young & Unafraid”
Beware of Darkness—“Sweet Girl”
The Arctic Monkeys—“R U Mine?”
Foals—“Stepson”
Death From Above 1979—“Virgins”
St. Lucia—“Physical”
alt-J—“Every Other Freckle”
Civil Twilight—“Letters from the Sky”
Editors—“Ocean of Night”
My Goodness—“Sweet Tooth”
Kings of Leon—“Family Tree”
Wolfmother—“The Love that You Give”
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club—“Lose Yourself”
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Acknowledgments
Huge thanks and gratitude to my editor, Heather Howland. I so appreciate your willingness to take a chance on me and invest so much time and energy into this book. I am forever grateful!
To Kari Olson. I’m so thankful for your developmental editorial direction and for hanging in there with me!
To Samantha Harris for answering my questions about living with dyscalculia and for providing so much information on the learning disability via her YouTube videos. I encourage anyone who thinks they might be struggling with dyscalculia to watch her videos on the subject. Her channel is seharris11.
To Ella Cain, my favorite teenager on earth, who answers all my texts and many questions about life in her world. (Sha!)
I can’t imagine my writing world without: Greg Howard for daily affirmations and accountability (our morning talks are like flecks of gold!); Jess Calla, the very first reader of this book and my Jersey girl sister; Holly Mathis who keeps me in compliments and feeling like a million bucks; Victoria Austin who always inspires me to keep learning; and all the MCRW girls and guys who I love doing this writing thing with!
To my son, Collin, for letting me have time to write and for your welcome interruptions. Nothing fortifies me like a hug from you!
And finally to my husband, Jody, for unending support and love. I know how lucky I am to have you, and I’m grateful every day for your presence in my life. There’s no one more considerate on this earth. You are my own personal romance hero, and I love you so much.
About the Author
Melissa Chambers writes contemporary novels for young, new, and actual adults. A Nashville native, she spends her days working in the music industry and her nights tapping away at her keyboard. While she’s slightly obsessed with alt rock, she leaves the guitar playing to her husband and kid. She never misses a chance to play a tennis match, listen to an audiobook, or eat a bowl of ice cream. (Rocky road, please!) She’s a member of RWA including several local and online chapters thereof. She holds her B.S. in Communications from the University of Tennessee.
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