Chapter 30
Summer
Justin has to be at the marina early, so I watch him from the bed as he dresses, pulling on the same shirt and shorts as the day before.
His hair is a disheveled mess and his blue-green eyes are still sleepy.
He vanishes into the tiny bathroom and I lay on the bed, listening to the early sounds of morning at the trailer park.
Ms. Dorothy, from next door, is outside walking her dog—talking to him the whole time.
I also listen and smile as Justin struggles in the tiny bathroom but comes back out, running a hand through his hair.
“Thanks for letting me crash,” he says, climbing over the bed.
I hold up my hand. “If you come back over here, I may not let you leave.”
He sighs. “I may not go, and then Bobby would see my Jeep out front, track me down and drag me out of here anyway.” I blinked, processing that information. He frowns. “What?”
“Your Jeep. It’s out front.”
“Uh, yeah. We drove it home last night.”
I jump—no scramble—out of bed and race to the door, blocking Justin.
His eyebrows rise to the top of his forehead. “Babe, what the hell are you doing?”
“You can’t go out there.”
“Why not?”
“Ms. Dorothy will see you and what will she think?”
“She’ll think about how much she loves me and offer me an apple fritter.” He tugs on his hoodie.
“I just…”
He frowns and shifts closer to me—not like there’s much room in here already. “What’s going on?”
“It’s hard, publicly, to juggle you all. I feel weird about it. Like I’m a little...”
“A little what?”
“Loose.” He fights a smile. I hit him in the chest. “I’m serious.”
He sighs. “I get it. I understand. Do you think I wanted to tell everyone at school I’m sharing the hottest girl ever with my best friends? It sounds weird.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Is it weird?”
“I don’t know, but it works for us, don’t you think?”
His hand slips around my waist. “It does, but I don’t want to make things awkward for anyone. I also don’t want to continue my trend of secret relationships. What I had with Mason was a mess.”
“What you had with Mason was a crime.”
I nod, feeling the wave of shame for letting myself get into that.
Justin studies me for a minute. “Mason had the upper hand and was a manipulative, abusive prick. The difference between us and him is that you’ve got a voice—the biggest voice in this relationship. Use it. Tell us how you feel. Tell us what you want.”
“I think for right now, I’d like to keep this out of the public eye. Until I get used to it a little more and people get used to seeing us around.”
“You’ve got it. We’ll be discreet.” He kisses my forehead. “We’ll make sure to keep the public displays limited until you’re ready. I’ll park over at Bobby’s from now on. All of us will.”
“Thank you.”
“You want me to give you a ride over the bridge before I go into work?”
“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.” It’ll give Dorothy and any other nosy neighbors an excuse why he’s here. “Do you think the other guys feel the same way? Is it awkward for them too?”
“I think it’s different for all of us, but no one wants you to be uncomfortable, Summer. The whole thing is a little unconventional, but we can make a plan. You can meet Whit at the apartment. Pete at his place. You and Nick can come up with arrangements. We’ll figure it out.”
“I should have said something sooner.”
“Hey.” He tilts my chin. “This is new for all of us. We didn’t get together until the end of last summer and we were all apart during the year.
You’re right. It’s a small town and we’re used to living under the microscope.
” He smiles. “This is your first time as a townie. It’s going to take some acclimating. ”
“You’re the best, did you know that?”
He grins wide. “Actually, I did.”
He’s so arrogant, but it just makes him sexier. That confidence? I could use a dose of that myself. I just hope with a little time and some practice, I’ll get there.
“Have a good day,” I say, giving him one last quick kiss. I’m already breaking the PDA rule. We’re sitting in the Jeep outside the book store. Anita’s car is already in the little parking lot between the shops.
“You, too.” He watches me get out of the car. “I’ve got a business meeting down in Myrtle tonight—something Richard goes to every month.”
“Okay. Be safe.”
He nods. “I will.”
He drives off and I turn to walk up the walkway to the cottage.
One of the girls from the night before--the redhead, Jessica, I think--is walking my way, carrying two coffees from the little grocery two doors down.
I consider bolting for the porch, pretending I don’t see her, but no.
That’s wrong. This is my world now. I need to be friendly for the sake of the shop and my mother’s business.
I step to the side, giving her room to pass and say, “Hi.”
She looks up in surprise. “Oh, hi.” There’s an awkward beat. “Just getting my daily dose of caffeine, you know.”
“For real.” For real? Sigh. I was going to need to work on my social skills. Get my brain together—spending the morning with Justin doesn’t help my brain. He leaves me in a fog. “Have a good day.”
“Same,” she says, with a quick grin.
Feeling accomplished, I walk to the shop and use my key to unlock the door. It’s early, so we’re not open. I hear Anita in the back and find her pulling a mug off the shelf.
“You’re not supposed to drink those are you?” I ask.
“I get one a day. That’s what my doctor said.” She gives me a look. “Don’t judge.”
“How was the doctor?” I ask. “Everything okay?”
“Yep. Six weeks and counting.”
“I can’t believe you have to carry that around for six more weeks.”
“Dude. Did you just say I’m fat?”
Shit. Not used to pregnant ladies! “No! I’m just…I can’t imagine it. Being pregnant and just…all the things. You look fantastic. I mean, I think you looked better in your bikini the other day than I did.”
She rolls her eyes. “Stop. I think you look better this year than last. You’re a little curvier. Softer. The guys like that, you know. I think Bobby likes me big and pregnant. I swear he’s sniffing around me like a hound dog.”
I knew what my boys liked—but yeah, if last night with Justin was any testimony, he liked something to hold onto.
Anita’s eyes narrow. “What are you thinking about?”
I shrug and take a sip of my coffee.
“Don’t think I didn’t see Justin’s Jeep at your place last night.”
“Ugh.” Suspicions confirmed. I raise an eyebrow. “Spying?”
“Duh, obviously.”
“He’s showing me townie stuff. Last night we went to The Camp.”
“Ohhh, really? You know that’s where Bobby proposed to me.”
“At the skate park?” I try not to sound too judgmental. Trying, so hard.
“Yeah, it was really sweet, like something out of some indie teen movie.” She looks down at the small diamond on her slightly puffy hands. “What’d you think?”
“It was fun. I had no idea it was back there. We saw the girls that work at the boutique next door—Isabel and Jessica?”
Anita waves her hand in a passing motion. “No surprise. Justin wasn’t lying when he said it was a townie hangout.”
“And some guy named Avery.”
“Oh god, Avery was there?” She brushes her hair out of her eyes. “Some things never change. That dude is too old to be trolling the Camp.”
“Well, he’s a huge fan of Mom’s. He said he was going to bring a book by for her to sign.”
“Huh,” she says, walking to the front of the store. It’s time to open. “Who knew Avery can read? And non-fiction, at that.”
Since we don’t have a toddler group or anything specific planned, Anita buckles down to add some new books to the computerized inventory list, and I spend the morning in Mom’s office sorting through the mail.
It takes a while to work out the sorting system, but after a while I get the hang of it.
I also find myself lost in the letters sent to my mother.
Dear Ms. Barnes,
Your book Scars From a Killer struck a chord with me. My sister Amelia was murdered fifteen years ago…
Dear Ms. Barnes,
Your courage to share your story and reveal the horrors of living with being a survivor has made me confront my own past as a victim of violent crime…
Dear Julia,
Can I call you Julia? I feel like after reading your book, I know you. Thank you for offering such a detailed account of Donald Gaskins’ crimes…
The letters go on and on, each personal and compelling.
I flatten them into a stack and put them in the cubbie for fan mail, making a note to tell my mother to read them as soon as she gets back.
Only two letters fall in the “psychos” category, and frankly, I’m not even sure if they count.
Both are just a little over the top, professing their love for my mother and her works.
I’ve finally made a dent in the mail when a text comes through from my mother.
Spending the day in Seattle! It’s cold and I need to feel the sand on my toes!
Great news though—my agent passed on a request from the New York Times.
They want to interview us about the book.
Yes, US! They want to do a story on our family, the area, and all that. Great press for the books and store!
I reply quickly: Tell me where and when and I’ll be there!
Expect a call soon. They’ll interview us separately and then again together.
She adds that they’re headed into Northern California the next day and that she’ll see me on the 6th—the day after her visit to LA. Then a hug emoji.
Another text comes through a minute later. It’s Whit.
Want some lunch?
I respond in all caps. YES!
I’ve managed to get most of the desk clear by the time the bell on the door chimes, followed by Anita’s loud greeting.
“She’s in the back,” I hear her say and I stand, straightening my skirt from sitting on the floor.
I’m about to get up to go meet him when he appears in the doorway.
Whit’s tall, lean frame fills the space.
His skin is already deeply tan—did he ever lose it?
And he wears a tank with Ocean Beach Surf School across the front.
He carries a box of delicious-smelling pizza in his hands and I smile.
“Is that smile for me or the food?”
“Is it wrong to say both?”
“Nope,” he says, entering the office. “I think that’s an acceptable answer.”
He holds the square box at his side and bends down to kiss me. He tastes like the sun and surf. He pulls away and I take the box, leaving it on the desk. I flip open the top and notice two pieces are missing.
“Your cousin snagged those on my way in.”
“I’m eating for two, you know!” she shouts from the front.
I roll my eyes and shut the door from her nosy ears, then we grab slices and napkins and sit on the small gray loveseat against the wall. The pizza is amazing, perfect crust and lots of cheese. “Tell me about your day.”
“Not much going on…I have a few lessons this afternoon. School isn’t out so it’s not super touristy yet, although there are enough college students down for Beach Week to keep us in business.” He laughs. “They just don’t get up until noon.”
“Beach Week?”
“It’s a thing down here. All the colleges celebrate the end of the school year with a trip to the beach. Lots of fraternities and sororities.” He glances around the room. “They’re probably too hungover for book shopping, but the guys love to show off for the girls, pretending they can surf.”
I think about how Whit and Justin look out on the water. I understand the appeal.
“You kind of love your job, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I kind of do. If I could work there all year, I would. But you know, school and all that.”
Whit’s family has a legacy of attending the Citadel. He hates it but finished his first year. I thought maybe once he attended he’d like it better, but there’s a hint of depression about him when it’s brought up. I hate that he feels so stifled and saddled with this obligation.
“Maybe—” I start, but he cuts me off, kissing me on the lips.
He moves diligently, lingering on my mouth, jaw, and neck.
Whit’s a confident man, which is why it’s surprising he hasn’t pushed our relationship further.
He seems experienced, although I don’t ask, I just know all the guys have a notoriety around here for short-term relationships.
Maggie and Ivy made that clear last year.
But nothing about Whit feels temporary when he kisses me.
Not the way his lips travel down my throat, near my collarbone, and across my chest. Shivers tremble along my spine.
I’m breathing heavy when he comes to a slow stop. “You’re going to spoil me for lunch if you keep doing things like that.”
“You think lunch was good, wait ‘til you experience dessert.”
He smirks at his own cheesiness, but then surprises me by moving to the floor and nudging my knees aside. He’s tall, so even in this position our faces easily meet. His kisses continue to burn. I feel desire pooling in my belly, dampening the cotton between my thighs.
I’m wearing a skirt that comes to just above my knees and his hands push under the fabric, sending tingling sensations across my skin.
Everything is heightened, wanting, but he’s slow and intentional—a side of Whit I’ve only seen out on the water—in his peaceful, happy place.
Justin is horny and playful. Pete, sweet and attentive. Nick, quiet and sure.
Whit? We’ve never gone this far, which is confusing, but maybe the time wasn’t right. Maybe that’s why he’s placing gentle kisses along the inside of my thigh. Maybe he was waiting for this moment.
I expect him to pull away and remove his pants.
I expect him to come back to the couch and settle me astride his hips.
I don’t anticipate his hands pulling at my sides, shifting me to the edge of the couch.
His fingers hook in the sides of my panties.
He looks up and asks in a deep, questioning voice, “Is this okay?”
I nod, words caught in my throat. I have never done this before and the thought terrifies me, knowing someone can be so close, so intimate…they’re not just in you, they’re tasting you.
Whit’s eyes cloud as he focuses between my legs, his hands spreading me wider. The pads of his fingertips are gentle as he explores. I exhale a breath of nerves as the heat of his mouth warms me. When his tongue touches me I cry out, surprised at how sensitive it feels, how good.
I thrust my fingers into his shaggy hair and any and all thoughts vanish from my mind. All I can think is how this…this is amazing. It’s more. It’s everything.