Chapter Twenty-Six
The Fourth of July weekend turns Beachside Burgers into a madhouse.
The place is packed wall to wall—families wearing matching patriotic shirts, sunburned tourists with sandy feet, kids with damp swimsuits beneath their clothes.
The fryer hisses with fresh batches of fries and onion rings, while the grill radiates enough heat to turn the kitchen into a furnace.
I’m elbow-deep in soapy dishwater, scrubbing ketchup-crusted plates, when Jim’s voice booms over the noise.
“Burke!”
I glance up, hot water dripping down my forearms. “Yeah?”
He leans around the corner, apron streaked with grease. “Your friend’s here. Table six.”
“My friend?” I echo, face scrunched with confusion.
Jim jerks his head toward the dining room before disappearing back into the chaos.
Curious, I peel off my gloves and push through the swinging doors.
The restaurant is packed. A line of customers snakes behind the hostess stand. Waitresses putter around frantically, weaving through the crowd while balancing overflowing trays of greasy food.
I scan the tables, eyes snagging immediately on one figure.
Hunter.
He’s sitting at table six, somehow managing to look completely unbothered in the middle of the mayhem. His laptop is open in front of him, screen glowing, while he forks through a bowl of salad. His dark hair falls into his face as he types, the corners of his mouth tight with concentration.
He’s a burst of pastel in a sea of red, white, and blue—drowning in an oversized pink T-shirt that swallows his frame, khaki shorts loose around his thighs. My chest does this stupid stutter thing as I cross the floor.
“Hey,” I say simply.
His head lifts, eyes flashing wide before softening. “Oh. Hi. Didn’t know you were working today.”
“Yeah, well, it’s one of the busiest weekends of the year. All hands on deck.”
“No kidding. The crowd at the beach last night was insane.” He fiddles with his fork as his eyes dart between mine, like he’s searching for answers in them. “Speaking of last night… do you have any regrets?”
My stomach twists when I think about last night—kissing him on the sidewalk in public. Honestly, I don’t know what came over me. It was like an unseen force was pulling me toward him. It was a reckless spur-of-the-moment act of courage.
I don’t regret it.
“No,” I tell him with a soft smile. “Last night was great.”
A crack of relief slips through his tension. “Cool.”
Behind me, the kitchen explodes with more clattering dishes and shouted orders.
“I should get back to work,” I mutter, thumbing over my shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the beach, okay?”
“Yeah. Sounds good.”
He looks at me hesitantly, like he’s not sure if he should give me an awkward fist-bump or a stiff hug to say goodbye. Instead, I lean down and kiss him—a quick press of lips, nothing scandalous. Still enough to send a fizz of electricity through me.
Hunter blinks, cheeks flushed.
“Enjoy eating your nasty salad,” I tease as I pull away.
I feel his eyes on me as I walk back into the kitchen. At the sink, Jim nudges my hip and gives me a knowing look.
“Wow,” he drawls, smirking. “You guys are pretty close friends, huh?”
I clear my throat, staring at the soapy water to avoid his gaze. “You saw that?”
“Uh-huh.” He doesn’t sound mad or judgmental, just amused. He gives my shoulder a firm squeeze. “Good for you, kid.”
He disappears through the doors, leaving me alone with the steam and dirty dishes. I slide my gloves back on and dunk my hands into the scalding water. Somehow, my chest feels even warmer.
***
Hunter and I sit shoulder to shoulder on the dunes, hot sand beneath our legs, lunch boxes spread out between us.
This—being out here in the open with him—feels a hell of a lot better than sneaking kisses in the maintenance shed. That place reeked of gasoline and mildew. Out here, a light breeze tugs at Hunter’s hair, carrying the scents of lake water and damp grass.
Hunter unwraps his tofurkey sandwich, dirt still caught under his nails from pulling invasive plants all morning. He’s halfway through a bite when his phone buzzes. He groans and rolls his eyes when he looks at the screen.
“Sorry. I should take this,” he mutters, wiping his fingers on a napkin before answering.
I try to focus on eating my ranch-flavored chips, but his voice sharpens in a way that makes it impossible to ignore.
“Hey, Mom.” A pause. “Yeah.”
The conversation stalls into a series of clipped, flat replies.
“I don’t know if I’m coming,” he says, dragging a hand through his hair. His shoulders hunch tight. “I’ll let you know tonight, okay? I’m in the middle of something right now.”
He hangs up quickly and bites into his sandwich, chewing hard.
I clear my throat. “So… what was that about?”
He exhales sharply through his nose. “My parents are throwing a birthday party for Landon and me next weekend. They keep asking if I’m coming home for it.”
I blink. “Wait—it’s your birthday soon?”
“Yeah. July thirteenth.”
I swat at his shoulder. “You’re such a dick! Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugs bashfully. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Of course it is. It’s your birthday.”
He avoids my eyes, fiddling with his beeswax sandwich wrap. He’d mentioned it once during a rant about reusable plastic alternatives—adorably passionate, hands flying—and the memory almost makes me smile now.
“My parents always threw these big birthday parties for Landon and me,” he says quietly.
“It never stopped, even after we grew up. Guess it’s a twin thing.
” He shrugs again, but the gesture looks heavier this time.
“Honestly, I don’t even know why they care if I show up.
Landon’s their golden boy. I think they just invite me out of obligation. ”
Something tightens in my chest. I can picture it too clearly—Hunter sitting on the sidelines while everyone fawns over Landon.
I may not know all the gritty details of their relationship, but I’ve learned enough to decide I don’t like him.
Especially after learning that he’s still best friends with Hunter’s shitty ex-boyfriend.
I knock my knee against his. “I’ll come with you, if you want company.”
He hesitates. “What about Maddie?”
“She’ll be at a sleepover next weekend.”
Hunter finally looks at me, eyes wide. “You’d really do that? You’d come with me?”
“Yeah, sure,” I say, trying to sound casual about it. “I’ve never been to Detroit. You can show me your hometown.”
His smile breaks free then, shy but genuine. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”
I lean in and kiss him, soft and unhurried, his lips warm beneath mine.
For once, there’s no rusty garden tools digging into my back, no hiding in shadowed corners, no fear of being caught.
Just sunlight spilling over our skin and the faint scent of lake water drifting through the air.
And in that moment, I know I’d choose this over hiding, every single time.
***
I shove another T-shirt into my duffle bag and run through my checklist one more time. Toothbrush, insulin, lube (just in case)—check, check, check. The bag’s still half-empty, and I keep pacing my room like I’ve forgotten something.
Truth is, I haven’t spent a night out of town since I moved back home, and the thought alone makes my stomach knot.
On my way down the hall, I pause outside Maddie’s bedroom. She’s been… quieter lately. More withdrawn. I keep wondering if it has something to do with Stephen showing up at court. I haven’t asked, figuring she probably needs space to deal with it in her own way.
I knock gently and peek my head inside. “Hey, Mads. Can I come in?”
She’s sprawled across her bed with her earbuds in, watching a slime-making video on her phone. Her room smells like strawberry lip balm and cotton candy body spray. She pulls one earbud out and shrugs. “Sure.”
I step inside, leaning against the doorframe to keep from hovering too much. “So… I’m heading to Detroit this weekend. Hunter’s parents are throwing a birthday thing for him and his twin brother.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You’re going with him?”
“Yeah,” I say, shifting the strap of the duffle bag on my shoulder. “But you’ll be at Leah’s sleepover, right? Just text me if you need anything. I’ll keep my phone on me.”
Maddie squints at me, suspicious. “Are you two… like, dating or something?”
The bluntness of her question makes my throat tighten. “It’s… complicated. We’re hanging out this summer,” I say vaguely, rubbing the back of my neck.
She tilts her head at me, eyes narrowing like she’s connecting the dots. “So does that mean you’re…?”
My chest feels heavy, but I force myself to meet her eyes. “Yeah. I’m gay.”
Her face softens, no hesitation. “Cool.” She says it like I just told her a mundane fact, not an earth-shattering confession. “I like Hunter. He seems nice.”
A laugh slips out of me unexpectedly. “Yeah. He is.”
“Well, I hope you have fun with your boyfriend,” she says, drawing out the word with a teasing grin.
I roll my eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.”
I cross the room and ruffle her hair just to annoy her, earning a dramatic slap at my hand. “Ugh, stop that!”
“Then stop making fun of me,” I shoot back, scowling half-heartedly as I back toward the door. “I should get going. Long drive to Detroit. Have fun with Leah.”
“Hey, Mase?”
Her voice makes me pause. “Yeah?”
She’s sitting up now, looking smaller than usual in her oversized hoodie. “Thanks for telling me. About Hunter. You know I love you no matter what, right?”
I smile at her, something loosening in my chest. “Yeah, I know. I love you, too.”
I shut Maddie’s door and step into the living room. Mom’s curled up on the couch with a blanket pulled up to her chin, the TV humming softly in the background. She looks pale, tired, but she manages a small smile when she sees the duffle bag slung over my shoulder.