21. Chapter Twenty-One - Summer
Summer
"So this new job would be in California?" Luca asks on the phone, which I've got jammed between my shoulder and cheek as I scurry through the house to pack for my upcoming flight. We’d made up a few days after our fight. And by that, I mean we both acted like it never happened, just the way we always do.
"Yes," I confirm, eyes darting over the mess in the room. "Oh, come on, where is my goddamn phone charger?"
It's not in the living room where I usually leave it plugged in right next to the couch and it's not in the bedroom either.
“That's pretty far away," Luca points out, and I roll my eyes.
"Oh, please. There are flights and all that. If you want to see each other, we can do that in no time. It’s not like I ever gave you shit when you had to shoot a movie in Canada or Europe."
I kneel on the ground and look under the bed for it, but it's not there either. God, I’m going crazy; where the hell could this thing be?
"Also, I've still got time. I'm only flying there to sign the contract, and I'd start in four weeks. By the way, I meant to ask you, do you have any recommendations for short-term rentals there? Just until I find something permanent."
"Let me ask my manager," he says with a sigh.
"Thank you." I get up and pace the bedroom. I am 80% sure it's in this room. But where?
"Anyways, Mom and Dad are taking me along to the airport, so I need to go. I still have to pack."
"Tell them to say hi to Aunt Cecil for me, will you?"
"Will do," I say and hang up the phone, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.
Think, Summer. If you were a phone charger, where would you hide?
This morning, I took it downstairs with me, plugged it into a socket in the living room, and then I started packing, and—oh god. It’s official. I'm either dumb or a lot smarter than I give myself credit for.
I press my palm against my forehead, then lean down and rummage through my overnight bag. Yep. There it is.
I'm almost done packing when I hear a knock from downstairs. Panicked, I check my watch, relaxing when I realize I still have another half an hour until my parents want to leave.
The two of them are off to visit my aunt in Canada for a week and since our flights leave from the same airport, we decided to carpool.
"Who is it?" I shout, but there’s no answer. So I hurry down the stairs and tear the door open, coming to a freezing standstill when I come face to face with a stranger.
"Who—who are you?"
"Hi, I'm Zoey," the girl introduces herself cheerfully and extends her arm for a handshake.
"Zoey?" I repeat, question marks written all over my face. One of her arms is in a cast, and that’s probably the reason for her messy ponytail—but who is she?
I know I've heard her name before, but for the life of me, I can't place it. And she must see that in my expression because she quickly follows up.
"Walker. Zoey Walker."
Oh.
I tense and quickly let go of her hand. "Right. What can I do for you, Zoey?"
"May I come in?" Hesitantly, I pull the door open for her and motion for her to step inside.
"I'm sorry, I'm actually packing," I explain and continue on to the living room. "Please don't mind the mess."
"I grew up with four brothers," she chuckles, looking around. "Trust me, this is nothing."
"So, how can I help, Zoey?"
"I just wanted to come here and have a little chat with you." She grins. "You know, girl to girl."
I stop with my back facing her and take a deep breath.
"Zoey," I start and stop myself, trying to find the right words, "that's so nice of you, but I don't think the two of us have anything to talk about."
"Well, I think we do," she disagrees and takes a seat at the kitchen island. "You know, for one I wanted to prove my brother wasn’t lying to you. I thought that was fair."
She lifts up her arm that's still in a cast.
"I just wanted to tell you that, indeed, he rushed to the hospital along with my other brothers after a rather unfortunately worded message from me."
Her expression turns melancholic, and I sigh, everything my mother ingrained into me about being a good host kicking in.
"Would you like some water?"
"Water would be great," she says cheerfully, shaking the wistfulness off her face, and I hand her a cold bottle from the fridge.
"Zoey, my issues with your brother have nothing to do with him rushing to be with you in the hospital," I start to explain, my eyes nervously darting to the clock over my fridge.
I think I can spare a few more minutes. The only thing left to do for me is attempt to close my carry-on suitcase and find an outfit for after landing, which I'll wear when I go in to sign the contract. That shouldn't take too long, it’s not like I have an array of clothes suitable for interviews or first days at a new job. God, I need to go shopping.
"I know my brothers are knuckleheads," Zoey says, a smile tugging at her lips as she pulls me from my thoughts. "They speak before they think—if they even do at all," she giggles, and it almost makes me break into a smile too. It’s like she’s describing my own brother.
"But their heart is in the right place, and I know my brother never intended to hurt you."
"Well, it was the outcome nonetheless," I say, my smile turning forced.
“You now,” she starts and twists her bottle open. “I don’t really remember our parents. I don’t remember the day everyone learned they wouldn’t be coming home.” She takes a quick sip of her water. “What I do remember are days, even years later, filled with sadness. Nights that I would hear them sneak through the house when another nightmare woke them up. They’ve been through a lot, Summer.” She gazes at me imploringly.
“What’s left of our family comes first, for each and every one of them. They will drop anything in a heartbeat In Adam’s case; I guess that includes Lily now, too. And it has the potential to include you as well.” She sets down her bottle. “And while I find them overprotective a lot of times, there’s also nothing I wouldn’t do for them.”
She shoots me a sad smile. “I wish you could have seen them when the burst into my hospital room, panic written all over their faces, because they assumed the worst. I’ve never seen them like that. It was such a traumatic situation for them.” She takes another deep breath. “I’m not saying it’s okay that Tanner ghosted you. But I really hope you’ll take the context into consideration and think about giving him another chance.” Her eyes dart to my living room.
"And judging by your wall stacked with flowers, he has let you know he's very sorry about hurting you," Zoey points out, but I can't find it in me to return her genuine smile. I should have had that bonfire.
"What are you scared of?" she asks, leaning her chin in her hands, curiously looking me up and down. "Girl to girl, pinky promise I won't tell him."
I take a deep breath, linking my pinky with hers.
"Zoey, I need a certain level of reliability," I explain, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "I need to know my partner won’t leave me high and dry, without a clue in face of an emergency. And ghosting is just not it.
"But is it really ghosting if you blocked him?" she wonders, lifting her eyebrow at me in challenge. "He told me he was about to get back to you but noticed you blocked him."
"Zoey. This whole thing is between your brother and me," I point out. “I won’t get into definitions of ‘ghosting’ in this context. That seems like straw-grasping at best.”
"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to point fingers. I’m kind of at fault for what happened so I feel obligated to make this right."
Now it's my turn to lift an eyebrow at her, watching her bite her lip anxiously.
"Zoey, this is not your fault." She rolls her eyes at me like a typical teenager, but I reiterate, "Really."
"Your brothers jumping at your call could make me like your brother all the more. But I can't be the kind of partner who is left behind and in the dark."
Zoey shakes her head, as it finally seems to sink in. With shock, I realize I have only about ten more minutes to pack.
"I really hate to kick you out," I say, not taking my eyes off the clock as if that will make time pass slower, "but I really need to get going. I have to catch a flight and still have some stuff left to pack."
"No worries." She slides off the bar stool at the kitchen counter, shooting me a genuinely happy smile. "Thank you for not closing the door in my face and hearing me out."
"Of course," I say, and before I know it, she throws her non-casted arm around me in a hug.
"It was good to meet you. Which airport will you be going to?"
"Philly," I admit, and she nods, her grin widening.
"Philly, huh? You know, my brother lives in Philly." She shoots me a wink. “Just saying.”
And I shoo her toward the door.
"Have a safe trip home," I say and close the door behind her before I rush to get the rest of my stuff together.
"Alright, honey." Mom stops me right in front of their gate, extending her arms for a hug. "This is us. Now, I hope you have so much fun in California." She presses a kiss to my cheek. "And make sure to tell us all about it, will you? Honey, I’m so happy for you!"
I grin, stepping into my dad's hug next. "Luca said to give his best to Aunt Cecil. Have a safe flight. Let me know when you’ve landed."
"You too," Mom says cheerfully and pulls her suitcase towards the check-in while I continue to walk down the terminal, checking my digital ticket again.
I still can't believe this company is actually flying me in, just to sign the contract and show me around.
The interview process had been nerve-wracking, with tons of technical questions and tests. I never thought I’d get far, but it’s not like I had any other opportunities lined up, so I just went for it, and when they sent me the offer, I was over the moon.
I never expected them to actually pay for my plane ticket as well, but they very graciously did. So, with a spring in my step, I come to a stop in front of my airline's check-in, blood draining from my face when I see the line in front of it.
Good thing I'm here early, thanks to my parents. It looks like this is going to take a while.
"I am so sorry, Miss Sheppard," the attendant says upon scanning my ticket, "but it appears this ticket is invalid."
"In- what now?" I ask, color draining from my face. That can’t be.
"According to our system, it was canceled this morning," she explains, and my heart starts beating in my throat.
"That's not possible," I stammer, fumbling my phone out of my pocket to pull up the company's e-mail with the ticket. "Here." I turn my phone to show the woman. "It says here it's been paid for and all."
"I'm so sorry, hon," she says empathetically, and I fight tears as I look at her. Her eyes are so full of sympathy, it makes me feel pathetic. "It says here it was canceled five hours ago. Did they send you another email? Or called you?"
"No," I answer, panic in my voice as I pull up my inbox and reload it. There's no new email. Not even in my spam folder. Nothing.
"Honey, why don't you step aside while you sort this out? Right over here." She motions for me to step away from the counter so she can help the long line of people that has formed behind me. "And if you know what's going on, I'll be right with you, alright?"
"Thank you," I say and quickly search the e-mail for the phone number of the person who sent me the ticket.
"Hi," I say when the lady I had gotten to know better during my interview process answers. "Jamie, this is Summer."
"Oh… Summer." Her voice already sounds way less enthusiastic than during our last conversations. In fact, it seems downright hostile.
"I wanted to touch base with you because I'm trying to check in for my flight right now, and it says the ticket I’ve been sent has been canceled?"
"Yeah," she says very matter-of-factly, all the warmth from our prior conversations gone. "They decided to go with someone else after all."
Fuck. This is exactly what I’d feared. My worst-case scenario.
I force myself to take a deep breath and fight back the tears. I can cry later.
"And nobody bothered to tell me?" I ask her in disbelief.
"We are sorry for any inconvenience caused," she says, not sounding sorry at all. No, she sounds like a robot, saying whatever it will take to appease me. I just lower my phone and end the call without another word.
"Thank you."
I do my best to shoot the check-in woman a genuine smile, before I walk off, carry-on luggage in tow, and dread turning heavier and heavier in my stomach. Before I know it, I've pulled up Luca’s number and call him, praying for him to pick up.
"Summer, what's up?"
"They canceled on me." I push past the emotions building in my throat, my steps picking up as I try to find a quiet corner.
"They what?"
"They canceled my flight." I clear my throat to keep from breaking into helpless sobs. "They didn't even tell me. The whole fucking line was staring at me, it was so humiliating."
"Where are you now?" Luca asks, alarmed.
"I’m still at the airport." I look around frantically until—yes! Finally, a quiet corner. I all but run over to it, and once I'm there, my knees just buckle, pain shooting through me as they hit the ground.
"Luca, I'm—" But as soon as I face away from the steady stream of people, all of my barriers break down.
"How could they do that?" I press out through sobs, curling together and making myself as small as possible. "I came all the way here, and now Mom and Dad are on their flight, and how am I going to get back? Luca, what do I do?"
"First thing you do is take a deep breath," he instructs me.
“Not an option,” I try to joke, sobs wrecking my whole body.
"Come on, Summer. Breathe with me." He tries to help me, but really, it's making me feel all the more pathetic.
"Where are you?" I finally ask, my heart sinking at his answer.
"I’m in New York for a small project," he admits, and I pinch the bridge of my nose, panic washing over me. Fuck. Of course. The one time I need him, he can't be there.
"I need a taxi," I finally press out.
But he answers with a disapproving sound. "I’m not putting you into a taxi all alone in that state you’re in.” He takes a moment to think. “Summer, do you trust me?"
"Of course," I whisper, leaning my head against my suitcase, the material rough against my forehead.
"I'm sending someone to pick you up."
"Well, I'll be the girl with the mental breakdown in the corner at Terminal Two."
"At least you still have your snark," Luca teases, and I force myself to take a deep, shaky breath. "Sit tight, okay?"
"Okay," I say weakly, still trying to catch my breath.
This day just went from hopeful to shitstorm within the blink of an eye, and I just can't take any more fucking whiplash.