Chapter 15
Emma held up two swimsuits—a navy one-piece in her left hand and a coral bikini in her right—and turned to Kate with the serious expression of someone facing a life-altering decision.
“One-piece, right?” she asked Kate. “It’s…appropriate.”
“For a nun,” Kate replied with a smile. “Not a seventeen-year-old with a gorgeous figure.”
Emma made a face. “Please. What has this figure done for me but make me a social pariah and the laughingstock of Eastmont High School?”
“No one from Eastmont is within a thousand miles. You’re going down to the beach with your seven-year-old cousin, which is a huge favor to Crista, by the way.
” Kate stretched out on the king-sized bed she and Emma had been sharing.
“I mean, I need a nap after an afternoon with Atlas, but Crista’s almost five months pregnant.
Thank you for taking Nolie while Atlas sleeps.
I’m sure you didn’t expect your summer vacation to turn into non-stop babysitting. ”
“It’s fine, but I’m still going with the one-piece.” She tossed the bikini back into her suitcase—the pile of chaos she insisted on living out of while they were here—and headed toward the bathroom. “Maybe a cover-up, too. God forbid some random guy sees my skin and slaps me all over the internet.”
“Emma.”
She turned, flashing an unexpected smile. “That was a joke, Mom. I’m okay. Better than okay. Down here, I can actually forget the hot mess that is my life.”
When she stepped into the ensuite, Kate stretched out on her side of the king bed with a contented sigh.
Emma was okay. She was chatty again, having a blast with the “littles,” as she called Atlas and Nolie. She was not the same girl who’d arrived in Destin a few weeks ago.
Eli always said the place was magic, and he wasn’t wrong.
Something had shifted in Emma since the day she went out on the boat.
So maybe it wasn’t magic. Maybe it was… Her gaze slid to the Bible on the nightstand. Emma read it in here alone, and sometimes at night. A satin ribbon held her place toward the end, whatever Eli had recommended she read.
Kate had no idea if the Bible had helped in Emma’s transformation, but something had. Not overnight, and not in any single dramatic moment, but gradually.
She laughed at breakfast now, easily volleying with Jonah or Crista about her weakness for Pop-Tarts. She volunteered to go grocery shopping with Vivien, happily played games with Nolie, stepped in to change or feed Atlas, and loved to play Wordle with her Grandma Jo.
Best of all, in the days while Eli had been in Atlanta, Kate and Emma had been together a lot, laughing, talking, and just soaking up the sun. She’d helped Kate plan a “dream date” she was going to spring on Eli when he got back in—she peered at her phone to check the time—less than an hour.
Thank goodness. She’d missed him so much. When Eli was gone from the Summer House, it was like someone had pulled the plug and nothing worked quite right or was nearly as bright. The break had given her perspective and a bone-deep desire to hold him in her arms again.
Emma emerged in the navy one-piece and leaned over to miraculously produce a pair of white cutoffs from the suitcase mess. “And these.” Stepping into them and pulling up the zipper, she smiled. “Perfect for my date with a seven-year-old!”
“Have fun.”
“Oh, we will. Much to Crista’s dismay, I’m teaching Nolie a whole new language.”
Kate looked over the rim of her glasses. “Spanish?” Emma had taken it for two years now, but teaching it?
“Teenager. She called Grandma Maggie ‘bruh’ this morning.”
“I bet that went over well,” Kate deadpanned.
“No cap.”
Kate frowned, not following. “Translation?”
Emma just laughed. “Nolie will tell you. Bye!”
“Bye, honey.”
As she opened the door to walk out, Emma slowed and turned back to Kate. “Eli’s on his way back, right?”
“In less than an hour. Maybe forty-five minutes.”
“But who’s counting?” Emma quipped. “It’ll be good to see him. I have a few things I want to talk to him about. And”—she pointed at Kate—“so do you, so don’t chicken out on the epic date we planned.”
“I will not, I promise.”
“Toodles, Mommy!”
When she disappeared—leaving the door wide open—Kate lay on the bed, letting the quiet settle and the anticipation build.
Had Eli missed her as much as she’d missed him? They’d talked on the phone once or twice a day, shared texts that were warm but careful, the way you communicate when you love someone and aren’t sure where you stand.
They weren’t fighting. They were just two people who’d been honest with each other at two in the morning and hadn’t figured out what to do with that honesty yet.
But she had a plan, thanks to Vivien’s diary, of all sources of inspiration.
Reaching for her phone on top of the comforter, hoping for a new text from Eli, her hand brushed Emma’s phone.
She went without her phone? If that wasn’t a major shift in the universe, she didn’t know what was.
She picked up her own phone. No new text from Eli, but she had a missed call from Matt. She tapped her son’s name, and he picked up on the second ring.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, sweetheart. I saw you called. Did I miss anything?”
“No, I just wanted to tell you about fishing,” he said, his still boyish but clearly deepening voice filling her ear and heart. “We went up to the lake for a few hours and got some fish. Dad’s grilling tonight.”
“That sounds fun. So, everything is good there? You’re not missing Emma?”
He choked. “Please. There’s no drama and I own the bathroom. No complaints.”
There never were any with this kid, she mused with a smile. Matt had been a breeze from the day he was born—chill, sweet, and stable.
On the bed next to her, Emma’s phone vibrated a few times, making Kate hope she wasn’t missing anything important.
“Is she okay?” Matt asked, proving that he really did care about his sister, bathroom issues or not. “She barely texts me back.”
“She’s great, actually. Really great. She’s at the beach right now with Crista’s little girl.”
“Cool. Well, my friend Ashton has a sister in her class. He said things are still…dicey.”
Dicey? What did that mean, she wondered as the other phone hummed again.
Of course, Matt knew what had happened, but the whole thing made him a little uncomfortable. And now he was dealing with the aftermath, two grades below his sister.
“Well, hopefully they’ll get undicey before school starts,” Kate said.
She frowned at the noisy phone, spotting the group chat name “ride or dies” at the top. Kate knew that was about twenty girls from school, all headed into their senior year.
Something was going on with them. Would Emma care?
Or…was it about Emma?
“I dunno,” Matt said, sounding either distracted or cagey.
“What do you know?” Kate asked, trying not to sound too anxious. “What did Ashton say?”
“Well, we don’t talk much about it because…”
“Yeah, I know. She’s your sister.” The endless vibrations continued, and Kate stole another look at the phone screen flashing like a strobe light.
She caught one line, the first few words of a text.
has anyone seen the screenshot bc someone said there’s a new
She swallowed hard. “Matt? What’s going on?”
He stayed silent except for a sigh, making Kate sit up straight and stare at the group text.
she is so not coming to my party not after this
Kate stared at the words texted from someone named Micki.
Some ride or die you are, Micki.
“It’s nothing,” Matt said, pulling her attention back to her own phone. “I just heard there’s a…petition or something to get her off the volleyball team.”
“What?” Kate croaked the word, her heart slamming. “They can’t do that! She’s their star setter! They couldn’t win a game without her.”
“I don’t know, Mom. It’s just…people talking.”
She glanced at the phone and saw someone reference the name Coach How. That was their volleyball coach, Delia Howington. She loved Emma. She’d never…
Or would she?
Something had these girls chatting hard.
“Hey, Dad needs help with the grill,” Matt said quickly, making her wonder if Jeffrey really did need help or if her son wanted an escape. “Gotta go. Say hi to everyone.”
“Okay, but…” She sighed. “You’re sure you’re good, honey?”
“Mom, I’m fine. Happy here. Don’t worry about me, really.”
The implication was clear in his voice. Worry about Emma, not me.
But what could she do if they kicked Emma off the team?
“All right. I love you, Matt.”
“Love you, too, Mom. Bye.”
She hung up and set her phone down and stared at Emma’s, watching one text come in after another, reminding Kate why she hated the entire concept of a “group chat.”
But not so, seventeen-year-old girls. Not when they had a mission and obviously no heart in the lot of them.
Kate glanced at the trainwreck on the bed, unable not to stare, and saw Emma’s name again and again in the preview text.
She absolutely refused to look at her daughter’s phone or open it to read this chain of nastiness. But why were they including—
An all-cap swear word flashed, followed by “she’s still on here,” and a minute later, it all stopped, followed by the flash of a notification: You have been removed from this group.
Well, that answered a few questions. Yes, the texts were about Emma. Yes, they were trying to get her off the team. And yes…that poor girl shouldn’t have to go back to the worst possible senior year.
Kate’s vision blurred as she tried to imagine what Emma would feel when she saw that chain of messages. Because they could delete her from the group, but not the six hundred texts that proved they were heartless. Emma would be crushed and go spiraling right back into moody misery.
For one crazy second, Kate considered deleting the thread. It would be easy. Emma didn’t have a password—that was a family rule in case of emergency. But that rule held for one reason: trust. And opening her phone and deleting a thread would be…beyond the pale.