Chapter 16
Twenty-four hours later, my phone vibrates under my pillow. Half asleep, I roll on my back and check the screen. It’s a text from Irene, a picture really, with the caption, “Mason won’t tell us anything.”
I stare at the photo.
“Holy crap,” I say aloud.
“What?”
I roll over and see my mother at the hotel table she’s using as a desk.
She’s got her hair back and her glasses perched on her nose.
To be honest, it’s weird not waking up in the camper, but when I told my mom that I was ready to go back home and face reality, she said she wanted to come with me.
I promised her she could be back for the Fourth.
I have little doubt she has a certain Hawkins man she wants to spend it with.
Our schedule is tight, but right now we’re in Charlotte, North Carolina on the way back to Nashville.
“Irene just sent me this picture of Mason.” I crawl out of the bed and hand her the phone. She squints and looks at the picture.
“Someone gave him a black eye, huh?”
“Looks like it.”
She looks over the phone and at me sitting on the edge of my bed. With a raised eyebrow she asks, “Any idea who?”
“I’ve got a couple suspects in mind.” I think of which boys had vanished off that dock when Pete and Justin got me out of the water. I wouldn’t want to be on the other side of either Nick or Whit’s fists. I look at the photo again.
“Do you think he’ll press charges?” I ask.
My mother stares at me for a brief moment.
“Not if he doesn’t want to explain why he followed an eighteen-year-old student to South Carolina in the first place.
” I get out of the bed, searching for my clothes for the long car ride ahead.
My mother busies herself with her work but pauses to add, “I know you think you’re running to fix your past, but are you sure you’re not just running away again? ”
“From who?”
She stares at me. “Whoever gave Mason that shiner. Whoever cares about you back in that little beach town?”
“This is something I need to do,” I tell her, heading for the bathroom. We’re still sharing tight quarters but at least my elbows don’t hit the walls in the shower. “And those guys on the beach…they’ll be okay. They’ve got plans.”
Again, I feel my mother’s eyes on me, but I’ve made my decision. I’m dealing with my past so I can face my future. A future I know good and well doesn’t involve four guys from the beach.
Headmaster Yancey blinks from across the desk. I’ve just told him about Mason and our relationship. His bald head shines from the overhead lighting and his lips purse in a thin line. My mother holds my hand and I feel her nails dig into my palm. He thinks I’m lying. He’ll take Mason’s side. He’ll—
“I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
Happened to me.
Happened. Not you were involved. Or you participated in, which are words more familiar to my truth, but I knew the minute I walked in here one of two things would happen. They would believe me, or they wouldn’t.
I breathed out a sobbing sigh of relief.
He believed me, not only that he’d recently become aware of some other issues concerning Mason.
“This information, along with his recent arrest, will not be tolerated at our school. I can fire him for the arrest, that’s a direct violation of his employee contract, but don’t worry.
We’ll follow up on this allegation and see it through. ”
“Arrest?”
He looks down at a piece of paper on his desk. “Down in Ocean Beach, South Carolina. Disorderly conduct. Public intoxication.”
Mom and I glance at one another but say nothing. I think this may finally be over. For real this time, and I’m okay with that. I just want to move on. Move forward.
Taking a deep breath, I say, “I do have one question.”
“Go ahead?” Mr. Yancy’s voice is kind. His eyes hold sympathy. I don’t want it, but it is what it is.
“I was supposed to go on the trip to France but when everything imploded with me and Mas—Mr. Lowery—I backed out because he was a chaperone.”
“I see.” He leans back in his seat. “Obviously he will not be going on the trip but if you’d like to go, I’m fine with that.”
The trip is in forty-eight hours. If I rush, I think I can pull it off. “Can I let you know tomorrow?”
“You can let me know until the students meet at the gate. It’s your decision to make, Summer.”
It’s nice to hear, I think, as we exit the office and walk down the empty school hallway. I have a choice in what’s ahead in my life. From now on, I plan on making the right ones.
“So, tell us everything,” Catherine says. We’re in the mall food court, clustered with Irene around a small table.
“It’s been an interesting summer, that’s for sure,” I tell her. “I met some family I never knew existed, learned all about the most notorious serial killer in South Carolina history, and spent most of my days on the beach.”
“Your tan is fabulous,” Irene says, eating a forkful of salad.
Catherine and Irene are my oldest friends.
They’re the ones I turned my back on when I was busy sneaking around with Mason.
I’d called them once my mom left that morning, intent on getting back to work, the beach…
Richard? We left with the understanding I was going to France.
My bag was packed. All my paperwork in order.
We hugged. Cried, but it was also good to be alone in a big house for a minute. I just needed a chance to breathe.
“The beach is beautiful. I learned a lot about the area, hung out with some locals, ate a lot of fried food.”
“Guys?”
I shoot her a look, but that doesn’t stop Catherine from continuing. “Someone gave Mason that black eye. Looks like something a protective guy would do.”
Someone. I’m not even sure who.
I rest my elbows on the table and play with the straw from my drink. I’m tired of holding secrets. I’d almost ruined our relationship once that way. “Okay, yeah, I met a few guys. Four of them.”
“Four?” Catherine’s blue eyes bugged out.
“Best friends. They grew up down there and work in the area. They surf and play hard. They’re fun. Two are in college already and the other two are headed to the Citadel in the fall.”
“Oh, military guys. Rawr,” Irene purrs. I shake my head. “Who did you like the best?”
I can’t lie. “I don’t have a favorite. I liked them all.”
The girls glance at one another and laugh. “So, what? You’re crushed on all of them?”
I smile. “Yeah, I guess so. They’re okay with it. It was just a causal thing. Just a summer fling.”
“Flings,” Irene says, accentuating the ‘s.’
I shrug and give them a knowing smile. Catherine’s eyes bulge impossibly larger. “Did you kiss them? All of them?”
“Maybe,” I say slyly. But in the middle of that busy suburban mall, I can feel the heat of their mouths on mine. Their strong hands on my body, and I miss them. “They’re really great.”
“And you left them?” Irene asks.
“I came home—to go to France!”
Catherine puts out her hands to either side and balances them like weights. “Hmmm…France or four hot beach guys. Which to pick. Seems like a no-brainer, girl.”
“You’d pick the guys?” I ask, seriously.
“Maybe,” she replies, taking a sip of her drink. “If I liked them enough.”
That was the question. How much was enough? And what if it was too much to just have to leave them again anyway?
“So what time are we meeting tomorrow?” I ask, changing the subject. Even though it’s impossible to stop thinking about them, I can control speaking about them. It hurts too much to dwell on them.
“Eight,” Irene replies.
“In the morning?”
Catherine rolls her eyes. “Look at you, getting all soft, lazing around the beach all summer.”
“I’ll be ready. My mom scheduled a taxi to come pick me up. I’ll make it.”
“I’ll text you, too,” Irene says with a smile.
“Thanks.”
The conversation diverges again, the way it tends to with friends; from what we’re packing to who’s going on the trip, to the places we want to see.
It feels normal. It is normal, and if I can get through this lunch, I can get on that plane.
That’s what I tell myself all the way home, but when I pull into the driveway there’s already a car waiting for me.
Not a car, but a Jeep with South Carolina plates, and my stomach drops like a stone while my heart races like a humming bird.
I almost fall over myself opening the door.
A lone figure sits on the front step waiting for me, but it’s not Justin. No, the build is bigger, hair darker.
“Nick?” He stands and watches me cross the sidewalk. “What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t really think we’d let you go without a goodbye, did you?”
“We?”
I look around but no one else appears. No Whit or Pete. Certainly, no Justin. I knew how much I’d hurt him that night before I left. There’s no way he’d be here.
“Okay, me. I’m the only one that isn’t too stubborn to come up here.”
“You came up here for a goodbye?” I ask, feeling my heart hammer around my chest. Seeing him here, at my house, in my world, rocked me.
He takes a step down, closing the space between us. He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me until our bodies are pressed together. “You and I have unfinished business,” he says, mouth close to mine. “And you’re not leaving the country until we’re really done.”
My hands tremble and the bag I’m carrying in my hand falls to the ground. With two strong arms, he lifts me until we’re face to face and he kisses me right there in the yard.
His mouth is warm and his tongue bold and I’m panting when he’s done. “D-do you want to come inside?” I ask, still a foot off the ground.
“I thought you’d never ask.”