Chapter 29
SUMMER
“Breatheeee, Summer.” I exhale long and slowly, manifesting my way into winning today. “You will win this bid. You will own a cottage. All your work will pay off.”
“The Maverick of Hockey scores!” . . . “He just locked down league MVP, Josh.” . . .
“Ohmmmm,” I hum with pinched fingers, meditating to the sound of Daniel winning four years ago blaring from my computer.
“You’re still watching his old games?”
“Cheez-Its on a cracker.” Opening my eyes, I grab my chest but then slam my laptop closed like I was caught watching porn. “You scared me, Fall. Announce yourself.”
“Do you prefer I go with ‘I, Lady Autumn of the Seasons of Mountain Laurel Cove’?” She cracks herself up. “Or does shouting ‘I’m coming in’ work better for you?” She sits in the chair at the desk, crossing her legs and looking bored.
I drop my hands beside me on the bed, and I roll my head to the side to see her. “A knock will suffice.”
“The door was wide open. Isn’t that the universal signal for come on in?” She turns toward the mirror and takes a green bauble necklace down to try on. “Still blue over your beau?”
“I half watch just to see him or hear his voice in interviews. It relaxes me.” My arms fall wide beside me. I don’t tell her that I fall asleep with his games playing and have been spending time learning about hockey. “I’m hopeless.”
“You’re not. You’ve just lost some of your spark. You’ll get it back, and you don’t need a man for that.”
“What about a cottage? Think that would help?”
Getting up, she comes and flops on the bed next to me. “A cottage should do it.” Rolling over, she says, “Will you fasten this for me?”
“It’s not helped that I’ve worked so much at the Honey Hive this month.” I sit up again and take the clasp of the necklace and hook it together. “Fall, I’ve been putting in forty- and fifty-hour shifts to help get the shop off the ground.”
“July is peak tourist season, Sum. I even picked up a Honey Hive shift after a twelve-hour shift at the hospital.” She rubs my arm. “I know Winter appreciates our help.”
I know she’s right and that Winter does appreciate it. But even if she didn’t, I think I’d probably find myself doing the same thing, anyway. I can’t fill every minute of my day with old hockey videos.
“I keep thinking maybe it’s a godsend to keep me occupied. The other cottage has had a lot of turnovers, too. A new renter every week. Cleaning, prepping, shopping. My spark is exhausted.”
And … sad.
I catch my sister’s kind eyes and the sympathy she has for me.
I’ve tried desperately to keep myself busy and moving, filling every moment so I don’t have time to think too much about him.
It’s kept me from having a total meltdown because I don’t have time for it.
But seeing my sadness reflected hits hard, and when she places her hand on top of mine, my bottom lip begins to quiver.
“I miss him,” I whisper, the words freed in the room for the first time.
Will I ever be able to catch them to hide in the back of the closet and ignore again?
I’ll have to. They’re too heavy to carry around and weigh my shoulders down.
“I’m afraid of how terrible it’s going to be when I’m not so busy that I have to sit with my feelings. ”
Taking my hand between both of hers, she says, “He’s an athlete who travels a lot for his job. This isn’t a one-off. This is how it’s going to be more often than not. You, sweet sister, need to figure out if this is the life you want, if it’s one you can live with or not.”
“That’s what I was trying to do with the meditation. Figure out life’s path for me.”
She grins. “Have you tried a shorter, deeper ohm?” She slides off the bed to admire the necklace on her neck in the mirror, her gaze latching to mine in the reflection.
“I can’t tell you anything.” I know I can trust my sisters to take our secrets to the grave, but it’s fun to still tease her.
“You can. Always, and it will stay between us.” Walking to the door, she waves her arm in the air.
“Put the hockey game back on.” She laughs.
“If it works, it works, and I’m sure there’s some peer-reviewed study to back the science behind seeing a partner succeed as encouraging and motivating …
or something like that. Can I borrow this necklace? ”
I don’t need an obscure study to tell me that seeing and hearing the love of my life puts me in a better mood. I feel it as strongly as his love for me. “Yes. It looks good on you. Where are you going?”
She grabs the doorframe and balances her weight with a smile that feels like she’s up to no good.
“Lunch date. I’m off for the next two days, so I said yes.
He came in with a broken arm last night.
” She giggles. “As you know, it’s hard to find a guy in the Cove when they aren’t spontaneously dropped into your lap or renting the house next door.
Lucky you. What a score.” Her giggles turn into all-out laughter. “Good luck today. You got this!”
“Thanks, and good lay to you. Oh my God. I mean, good day. Have fun.” I fall back on the mattress again. “Oh, forget it.”
I hear her laughing as she trots down the stairs.
Opening my laptop, I push play and close my eyes to absorb the positivity of Daniel winning the Chalice a few years ago. His voice is a balm to my aching heart, even if it’s a post-game interview and I have no idea what they’re talking about.
His laughter and the cadence of his words—I miss him. Not just his presence. I miss his soul caressing mine, waking up with his eyes on me, and the sweetest smile already on his face. I miss the way I love you never came forced but flowed like a river from his heart to mine.
I squeeze my eyes closed, so tired of crying all the time and this constant hole in the middle of my chest that food or even a phone call won’t soothe.
I need him. I need to be held in his arms again, to see the way he looks when he’s touched heaven, deep inside me.
I miss how he calls it like he sees it, and those eight ab muscles of his.
I miss him. And I miss Roman and the way that kid livened up our house and Dolly again.
I miss both of their sweet hugs. And Daniel’s kiss on my head.
Touching my forehead, and it’s just me with no traces of him anymore.
The tire no longer spins, and the swing has been empty since they left.
I’ve found myself running to the cottage when the loneliness gets to be too much, searching for any sign—a morsel left behind—that he was real.
That we were real. That he really existed in my world and not just on my laptop or a voice on the other end of a phone call.
Curling onto my side, I let the next video play as I wrap myself up in my own arms to keep from falling apart again. It won’t work. It never does, but I’m all I have left of what we once were.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Sportscasters arguing about the greatest of all time weaves into my periphery. I open my eyes, seeing the video sideways. “Daniel Sutton,” I reply, as if I’m part of the conversation.
Buzz.
Oh no!
“The cottage,” I gasp.
Popping up, I grab my phone and turn off the alarm.
I push out of bed, scrambling to change into the clothes I planned to wear to the meeting.
Rushing through a quick freshen-up, I slip on a pair of flats and grab my laptop before stopping and looking out the window.
A storm is coming. This better not be an omen.
I run down the stairs, and each old creak squeaks when I land on it. “Slow down before you fall, honey.” Dolly is waiting in the entry with a glass of orange juice and two sausage links. “Thought you could use the energy and protein.”
I kiss her cheek. “You’re the best.” Taking the juice in my free hand, I say, “Shove them in.”
She pokes the sausages into my mouth and then hands me my keys on the way out. “You can do it, Summer. Proud of you for chasing your dreams.”
I waffle my head since I can’t speak with a mouth full of breakfast meat. Still chewing, I don’t make it to my car before I hear, “And tell that old bag to do the right thing or she’ll be dealing with me.” I want to laugh, but I’ll choke if I do. And I’m not entirely sure she doesn’t mean it.
Shoving my laptop in the car, I finally swallow and wash the food down with the juice. Cocking an eyebrow, I turn back. “I won’t be telling her that, but I appreciate you having my back.”
“Rain is coming this way. Slow down so you don’t get in an accident.”
“I want to get there before it pours.” Probably not the answer she wants to hear. “Bye, Dolly.”
The speed limit is way too slow when I have to be somewhere important. Driving behind a row of tourists sightseeing makes it worse. “What are we taking a Sunday drive here? No. We’re not.”
The sky splits in two, sending a downpour to take over the town. A blanket of heavy rain won’t keep me from winning the cottage. I lay on my horn out of pure frustration and consider breaking the law by going around the three slowpoke cars.
“I’m starting to sound like a certain hockey player with a penchant for rule breaking,” I say softly, my heart clenching as his voice echoes through my head. “Rules are made for breaking.” The voice of the devil plays on repeat in my head. Do I? Should I?
The time on the dashboard urges me to drive the defense down the line.
I don’t know what sport that’s from, but that’s what I’m going to do.
It’s the only way to put in a bid on time.
I slam the pedal to the floorboard and drive like a speed demon down the two-lane road, cutting over into the other lane to pass the slower drivers.
The headlights hit me first. A horn blares straight at me. I swerve back into my lane at the last minute to avoid being run over by a semi-truck. I check my rearview mirror for the other cars. “I did it. Daniel would be so proud of—”
Wheels spinning.
Tires skidding.