The Summer Deal

by Jill Shalvis

  “Wrong,” Kinsey said.

  “Us guys are always the ones in the wrong,” Max said.

  Eli glared at him and his brother held up his hands in surrender.

  Brynn was gone. And he wasn’t quite ready to examine why he was so bugged by that fact. Or why he felt every bit as protective over her as he did about Kinsey, albeit in a very different way. He loved Kinsey like a sister.

  Nothing he felt for Brynn was sister-like.

  Kinsey was back to cutting carrots. She now had a pile of them in front of her that would take them a week to eat, a rare tell from her, and he felt anger bubble up. “Let me get this straight. You had the opportunity to tell her everything and you didn’t.”

  “Don’t.” Kinsey pointed at him with her knife. “You weren’t there. And anyway, what did you expect me to do? Tell her that my dad’s a dick who, by the way, cheated on my mom and donated sperm for cash, which makes us sisters? That in spite of what it might look like, no worries, I’m not telling her now so that she’ll give me a kidney? Come on, Eli. She’s not going to buy any of that. Plus, it’s sort of frowned upon to discuss that sort of thing in front of children. ‘Sperm’ isn’t exactly on the spelling list.”

  “Wait, you think Brynn’s gone gone?” Max asked, sounding disappointed. “As in not coming back?”

  “Would you?” Kinsey asked.

  “Hell no,” Max said. “You’re scary as fuck.”

  Eli took the knife from Kinsey’s hand before someone got stabbed with it. Like Max. And then he waited until she met his gaze. “You messed this up because you’re afraid to get close to her.”

  Her eyes went shiny. “That wouldn’t make me a very good person.”

  He let out a breath. “You are a good person. You’re one of the best people I know. You’re just afraid to love even one more person, because you think you’re a walking expiration date, and you don’t want anyone to hurt other than you. Fix this, Kinsey. Fix it for yourself.”

  “I can’t,” she whispered.

  “Why?”

  “Hi, have you met me?”

  He looked at her. She looked at him right back, letting him see what she rarely let anyone else see. Regrets. Sadness. Fear. It was the last that squeezed his damn heart and had him shaking his head. Because he knew she wouldn’t make a move toward fixing things with Brynn. He could tell she felt . . . frozen, like it’d been her who’d put a decision-making moratorium on herself, and not Brynn—who appeared to be making decisions just fine.

  BRYNN WAS SITTING in her moms’ kitchen, slowly being smothered to death. It was her own fault, of course. She’d told them she was coming back because the house hadn’t worked out, which had sent them into private-investigator mode.

  “Did someone hurt you?”

  “Was someone mean to you?”

  “Do we need to call the police?”

  “No!” Brynn said. “Look, I know I told you that I thought Kinsey and I could make peace and become friends. And I thought the same thing of Eli.”

  “But . . . ?” Olive asked.

  “But . . . now I’m not so sure on either.”

  “Is it because you like Eli?” Raina asked.

  Just when she thought she might be smarter than them . . . “I don’t know.” She paused. “Maybe. A little.”

  “And that’s bad?” Raina asked.

  “I’m not sure I’m ready to feel . . . things again. I need to clear my head.”

  Olive didn’t want to let it go. “But—”

  She held up her hands to ward them off. “Look, I’m going to be fine, no one’s done anything to me. I just don’t want to discuss it right now, okay?”

  So they switched tactics.

  “Try this, baby.” Olive handed her a mug.

  “Wait,” Raina protested. “I’m making her a special tea blend.”

  “Trust me. She’ll want mine,” Olive said.

  Brynn sipped from the mug. It was a hot toddy with a whole bunch more alcohol than hot water.

  “Don’t tell your mom,” Olive whispered.

  Twenty minutes later, as she was sitting on the couch, with Catherine the Great claiming her lap, Raina handed her a napkin with two small cookies in it.

  Never one to turn down cookies, Brynn still hesitated. “They’re not . . . special cookies, are they?”

  “Just a little bit special. For your anxiety, baby. Don’t tell your mom.”

  So that was how Brynn ended up a little toasted and also a little high. But the joke was on her moms, because now she was too sleepy to spill her guts and admit she’d actually been delusional enough to think she’d become a part of the Kinsey, Max, and Eli gang, that she meant something to them, that she belonged. That she was embarrassed it wasn’t like any of that. She was nothing more than a paying renter, filling a spot.

  But more than any of that—much, much more—she’d come home because Kinsey didn’t need the complication of Brynn being there upsetting her.

  The doorbell startled Brynn awake and Cat into hissing. She figured her moms would get it, but oddly, they’d made themselves scarce. So she got up and looked out the peephole, and suddenly she knew where her moms were.

  Hiding out at the top of the stairs, straining to eavesdrop.

  Because Eli stood on the porch, hands braced on either side of the doorjamb, head down, studying his shoes. When she’d swallowed her heart out of her throat and back into her chest, she opened the door.

  He lifted his head. He’d lost the suit jacket, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt. The sleeves were shoved up his forearms, his hair was mussed, and the dark lenses on his sunglasses were a nice finishing touch to the whole Frustrated Male look he had going on.

  She lifted her chin. “If you’re here to tell me I need to apologize to Kinsey, don’t worry. I figure me being gone was apology enough.”

  He tugged off the sunglasses and shoved his fingers through his hair, solving the mystery of the tousled look. “How about I apologize to you,” he said.

  She stared at him. “Go on.”

  “I’m sorry.” He drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry one of my roommates is a compilation of every cliché of a surfer there ever was. I’m sorry the other roommate’s always on edge and irritable and . . . well, downright mean as a snake. And I’m sorry if not knowing about Kinsey’s condition made you feel like you weren’t a genuine part of the household.”

  She sucked in some air. “How did you know?”

  “Because you’re kind and caring, and you attach easily, even when you don’t want to. I can imagine how you felt when you saw inside Kinsey’s lunch box.”

  “Yeah? How did I feel?”

  “Sick, probably, with worry and concern, like the rest of us are. She’s dealing with a lot, always has been, but this isn’t about her. It’s about you, and no one meant to make you feel left out.”

  She gave him a long look.

  “Okay, neither me nor Max meant for that. Kinsey is . . . well, Kinsey. Please come back, Brynn. Give us another chance.”

  Hating that she was tempted, she started to shake her head.

  “Wait, before you say no, maybe just think about it?”

  Like she’d be able to do anything else.

  Taking her hand in his, he squeezed it gently and lifted it to his mouth, kissing her palm.

  A skitter of awareness went through her.

  “Maybe you’ll think about that too,” he said quietly.

  She did nothing but, all night long.

  Chapter 13

  From fourteen-year-old Brynn’s summer camp journal:

  Dear Moms,

  OMG, it’s asparagus this year. And whenever a girl eats any, the boys yell, “Don’t eat the stinky tinkle sticks!”

  Boys are so dumb. Why didn’t you ever tell me that?

  And why do we only get one veggie for the whole camp?

  Also, everyone’s got boobs but me. I know you said it would happen, but WHEN? Kinsey’s boobs arriv
ed. Everyone’s boobs arrived.

  Except mine.

  Kinsey said, and let me quote, “Nice mosquito bites.”

  I’m not going to put on my bathing suit. I’m not going swimming. Which, because it’s a million degrees, means I’m going to die. Good-bye, Moms, we had a good run.

  Love,

  Your thoroughly dead daughter

  THE NEXT DAY after work, Kinsey was frustrated. She’d tried to see Brynn at school, but her sister had refused to talk to her during class and then had sneaked out at the final bell before Kinsey could catch her.

  Both Max and Eli gave her a wide berth until she finally tossed up her hands. “Look, it’s not my fault she’s gone.”

  “Actually, it kinda is,” Max said.

  Eli didn’t say anything, just leveled her with those steel-gray eyes that never failed to reach into her soul and remind her that she wanted to be a better person than she really was.

  Dammit.

  She spun on her heel and left. Using the GPS to get to Brynn’s moms’ place, she parked on the street and eyed the small, modest but well-kept home. The grass was a little long, but vibrant green. The two oaks were thick and lush. Gorgeous, colorful flowers lined the walk and filled planters along the porch railing. She had no idea what kind of flowers, because she’d never been impressed by flowers before. And she’d certainly never grown any.

  One of the moms—Kinsey didn’t know which one—answered her knock. She was petite and wore a long, flowy, whimsical sundress covered in bright sunflowers. “Can I help you?” she asked Kinsey with a sweet smile.

  “I’m looking for Brynn. I’m Kinsey Davis. Her . . . roommate.”

  Her mom looked interested in this information. “I thought she wasn’t taking the room after all.”

  “There was a . . . miscommunication. We very much want her to.”

  Brynn’s mom’s smile warmed. “I’m Raina. And I remember you, you know. I haven’t seen you in years and years, not since Parents’ Day at summer camp in . . . goodness, eighth grade, I think. Come in.”

  “No, don’t let her in.” This was from Brynn, who was suddenly standing behind her mom.

  Raina shook her head at her daughter. “Hiding from your feelings is never a healthy choice, baby. And it plugs you up, remember?”

  Brynn banged her head against the doorjamb a few times.

  Kinsey smiled at her sweetly. “We wouldn’t want you to get plugged up,” she said.

  Brynn rolled her eyes, gently nudged her mom aside, and said, “We’ll be outside talking. Do not listen in.” She then shut the door.

  Kinsey opened her mouth to say something, but Brynn held up a finger and cocked her head at the closed front door. “Mom, I can still hear you breathing,” she called out.

  “Dammit,” came Raina’s voice. “It’s my allergies. There’s a lot of pollen today. I’m going to go sit in front of the humidifier.”

  Again, Kinsey opened her mouth, but Brynn shook her head. “Not yet,” she whispered, then said loudly, “Let’s go to McDonald’s for a Big Mac and fries, the extra-large order with extra fat.”

  Nothing from the other side of the door.

  “Okay,” Brynn said with what looked like relief. “She’s really gone.” She eyed Kinsey coolly. “What are you doing here?”

  Kinsey paused. “You, um, have nice toenail polish.”

  Brynn looked down at her sparkly purple toes. “You came here to say that?”

  “No, I came here to say you suck at fighting. But we have that deal where I have to say something nice to every not-so-nice thing.” She drew a deep breath. “You’re not supposed to go away when you get mad. You’re supposed to fight back. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that?”

  “No,” Brynn said.

  “Well, it’s true.”

  “Okay,” Brynn said. “So let’s fight. You’re sick. Like really sick.”

  Kinsey sighed. “Yes, but don’t you dare look at me with pity.”

  Brynn let out a choked laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

  The front door opened. It was the other mom, or so Kinsey assumed. This one was wearing a suit dress and heels that Kinsey drooled over.

  “Honey,” this mom said to Brynn. “Even I don’t leave friends out on the porch.” She smiled at Kinsey. “Hi, I’m Olive.”

  “She’s not a friend,” Brynn said. “This is Kinsey, from summer camp. You remember, the one I complained about every time I got to call home.”

  “Ah,” Olive said, and looked Kinsey over for a long beat.

  Kinsey squirmed a little bit. Embarrassed, she realized, at what a shithead kid she’d been. She gave a little wave and a grimace. “Camp was a long time ago.”

  “True,” Olive said, and stepped back, gesturing for them both to come inside the house.

  Brynn hesitated, but not Kinsey. She took the only “in” she was likely to get and entered the living room.

  “Raina’s making tea,” Olive said. “She also has homemade cookies.”

  “Don’t eat the cookies,” Brynn said quickly to Kinsey.

  “Not those cookies.” Olive shook her head. “I made her throw those out. You can eat the new ones and still pass a drug test.”

  Kinsey blinked and looked at Brynn. “Your mom makes pot cookies?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  Okay, then. She smiled at Brynn, surprised. “You get more and more interesting.”

  Brynn rolled her eyes. “Mom, we need a moment.”

  “Understood.” Olive moved to the kitchen.

  Again, Brynn shook her head when Kinsey began to speak. She gestured for Kinsey to follow her and led her down a hallway to a bedroom that appeared to be a shrine to Brynn’s entire life, between the corkboard wall covered with pictures and the shelves filled with trophies.

  “Who did you steal all the athletic awards from?” Kinsey asked.

  “They’re participation awards. I sucked at all sports, as you well know.”

  “And the Backstreet Boys poster on the back of your door?”

  “It was a phase.” She swiped her forehead. “You’re making me crazy anxious.”

  Kinsey let out a low laugh.

  “You think this is funny?”

  “No,” Kinsey said. “I just thought I was the nervous one. And I don’t even do nervous anymore. I’ve learned that being anxious about shit ahead of time just means I’ve got to be anxious twice. I’m no Miss Merry Sunshine, but sometimes it helps to just think as positively as possible.”

  Brynn slid her a look. “That’s . . . surprisingly astute.”

  “Yeah, yeah. But since my natural state is to be Eeyore, sometimes it’s a process.” She looked at her sister standing in the middle of her childhood bedroom, a grown woman surrounded by her past, which by all accounts had been happy and sweet. Still, she had her arms crossed, her expression pissy.

  Like her life had been so hard. It was a bunch of BS really. Yes, she’d come over here with the intention of opening up, but having watched Brynn with her awesome, loving, weird moms, suddenly she didn’t want to.

  Because what did Kinsey have? Let’s see. She had a con artist for a dad, a mom who was only around when she needed something, and a messed-up kidney.

  “So?” Brynn asked. “Why are you here? You made it pretty clear we’re not friends.”

  “Maybe I want to be. Friends.”

  Brynn laughed.

  Annoying, even if she deserved that. “You’ve had things pretty good, you know that? Good health, even if you’re constipated.”

  Brynn sighed.

  “Hell, even my best friend likes you.”

  Brynn met her gaze. “Does that bother you?”

  “Not even a little. I like seeing Eli open his heart. He doesn’t do that, you know. Like . . . ever. His relationships with women are superficial at best. It’s because he thinks he’s faulty.”

  “We’re all faulty.”

  Kinsey gave a grim smile. “True, but some more than others. Although Eli’s o
nly fault is seeing the best in people like me, even though he’s had it rough. Did you know he was pretty much rejected by both parents and then sent away at age ten because they didn’t have time to be bothered with him? That scars a kid, Brynn, big time, and yet he’s still a great guy. He deserves a really great woman, but the one time he allowed himself a serious relationship, she tossed him aside for a promotion on the other side of the country. That was five years ago,” Kinsey said. “And now he doesn’t commit his heart because he sees himself as disposable.”

  Brynn was standing there, arms still crossed. “Is there a reason you’re telling me all of this?”

  “Yes. If you hurt him, I’ll have to kill you.”

  “I’m going to pretend you’re joking, but I get it. Everything I know about Eli tells me he deserves the moon.”

  “Damn right,” Kinsey said. “But this isn’t about Eli. Or you and Eli, even though he thinks you have a good ass, which is annoying because it’s true.”

  Brynn blinked. “Then what is it about?”

  “It’s about just you. Your life’s all put together.”

  Brynn’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “Are you kidding me?” Shaking her head, she laughed. Then she kept laughing, eventually having to bend over and put her hands on her knees.

  Pissed off, Kinsey turned toward the door.

  “Wait.” Her sister seemed to make an effort to get herself under control. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry you’re sick. I really wish you’d tell me more. I’m also sorry that you didn’t get good parents. And that I fell into a fun job and you didn’t. Your job’s hard, because you mostly only get to hear about problems and have to help people fix them. That’s got to be draining. But you need to know that my life is about as far from put together as it can be.” Brynn spread her arms, gesturing to her shrine. “I mean, yes, my moms are amazing, but they can also be a bit smothering. I can’t find myself to save my life, and my résumé makes me look like a ping-pong ball.”

  “Yeah, well.” Kinsey drew a deep breath. “It’s all subjective, I guess. You’ve got two moms who care, good health, and a very annoying way of being sweet and kind—two things I can’t manage on my best day.”