Chapter 10
COLT
The last time I sat in the passenger seat of Summer’s old truck was four years ago.
She’d had Chicken Fried playing on the speakers while she shouted the lyrics.
She called the song a classic. Not sure it quite fit the classic requirement, but I couldn’t hear that song and not think of her singing along.
The windows had been down because they were busted and the heat was something else entirely.
She didn’t care about the heat. She’d been so happy.
I remembered resting my hand on her bare thigh without thinking about it.
Those summer days were the best times of my life.
I glanced down at her leg now. Joggers. Right. What I wouldn’t give to have my hand sliding over her silky skin. Gently squeezing her toned thigh as I opened her legs.
My body jerked, my cock stirred at the thought of being inside her.
What the hell was I doing? I needed to get my head straight.
This wasn’t four years ago. She wasn’t mine to look at like that.
She’d made it pretty clear on the beach the other night that whatever existed between us was ancient history.
I had a business to run and a partner who was already threatening to sue half the town over a pile of dog shit.
I did not have the bandwidth to sit in a truck and think about Summer Banks’ legs or other parts of her scrumptious body.
The radio filled the silence between us, some country station that wasn’t exactly clear but good enough.
She reached over and cranked the volume without hesitation, like she always did when a song she liked came on.
I didn’t recognize it for a beat, and then the lyrics settled in and I almost laughed.
Choosing Texas.
Of all the songs on all the stations in all of southern California.
I watched her out of the corner of my eye.
She was drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, her elbow propped on the window ledge, the night air moving through her salt-stiff hair.
She looked every bit the fantasy that had kept me company on more sleepless nights than I was ever going to admit out loud.
There was something about her that was completely effortless.
She wasn’t trying to be anything. She just was.
I’d met women who had been sculpted and curated and perfect in every sense of the word.
Summer was salty—literally. Sun-drenched and gorgeous.
She sang along under her breath, just the chorus, just enough that I could hear it. I realized I was staring at her mouth. Watching her lips form the words. She turned her head and caught me ogling.
I didn’t look away. I’d already been busted.
She stared back at me long enough to let me know she’d seen it.
Then the corner of her mouth pulled up just slightly and she turned back to the road.
No comment. No smug remark. She knew I was thinking about old times just like I knew she’d had a thought or two about our past.
The truck slowed as she took the turn onto our street.
Our house came into view first because how could it not.
The driveway was lit up like we were expecting a plane to land.
Next to it, the Banks house sat quieter.
Her house belonged. Ours was a beautiful eyesore.
I was going to talk to the groundskeeper about turning down the lights.
I never realized how obnoxious it was until just then.
She pulled into the driveway and cut the engine.
The music stopped mid lyric. There was a white SUV already parked in the drive.
I noticed the rear bumper as she pulled alongside it.
One of those stick-figure family decals.
A woman figure and two kid figures, no dad figure in the lineup.
The absence of it was its own kind of statement.
I thought about what Summer had told me on the water.
He doesn’t have anything to do with the kids.
I looked at those two little stick figures and felt sad for them.
The truck ticked as the engine cooled.
Neither of us moved immediately. She pulled the keys from the ignition and stared out the window.
It was the same kind of loaded quiet I remembered from before.
The kind that meant too much was sitting unsaid and neither of us was quite ready to be the one who said it.
Saying anything felt wrong. Saying nothing was also wrong.
I should get out of the truck. Walk across the property line and go inside and drink a cold beer and figure out what the hell I was going to do about Judd and the building. I didn’t move.
She was the one that opened the door and got out. Whatever opportunity I had was gone. I got out, went around to the bed of the truck, and pulled both boards out. I leaned hers against the tailgate and picked mine up.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said.
“Sure.”
She stood on her side of the driveway with her board tucked under her arm and her keys dangling from her fingers. The porch light from her house highlighted her face. She looked the same as she did all those years ago. Fresh faced and sun kissed. I stood on my side with my board.
I couldn’t help but look at the gate set into the fence line between our properties, half-hidden by the overgrown jasmine.
The gate was unnecessary. I don’t know why either property owner kept it.
The gate was part of the property before my father had bought it and expanded the house.
Forty years ago, the gate separated two average houses. A sign of change.
I couldn’t help but smile thinking about the many nights I’d crept across the property line.
Three summers of waiting until the lights in her father’s bedroom went dark and I’d sneak over or she’d slip through to my side.
After that first summer, after she moved out of the beach house, she’d stay in the guest room at my place on the nights it got too late to drive back to the loft she shared with Capri. We’d lie awake talking until sunrise.
“I used to know exactly how many steps it was from our property to your back door,” I said. “Staying in the shadows and making sure I didn’t turn on the security light your dad set up because he was certain raccoons were a problem.”
“I remember those nights,” she said. “Poor raccoons taking the blame for your clumsy ass knocking over the trashcan.”
I laughed. “It was dark.”
“You were drunk.”
“True.”
“Although I was the drunk one that tripped over the path light and broke it.” She grinned. “Dad thought the raccoons were pulling them out of the ground.”
The memories were so good. The best times of my life. It was stupid to stay away. I had deprived myself.
“I’m sorry I never came back,” I said. “I should have. I meant to call. Just to check in. See how you were doing but it felt wrong. It felt…”
“Insincere?” she asked.
“No.” I shook my head. “No, that’s not it at all.”
Did she really think I didn’t care? That it was easy? All these years, she thought I walked away because I wasn’t thinking about her.
“I never stopped thinking about you,” I said. “Not once. I want you to know that.”
“Colt, I don’t need to hear it. It was a long time ago. Water under the bridge.”
She wasn’t saying it with cruelty. More like she was protecting herself. From me. She didn’t have to say the words. I understood. And dammit, it pissed me off that I had hurt her.
“Okay,” I said. “But—”
“Nope. Not doing all that. It’s been four years. Let it lie.”
I wanted to push. Explain myself. But I realized that was for my benefit, not hers. Reopening that old wound didn’t help her. She had gotten over me and wasn’t interested in looking back. I didn’t blame her.
“I should go in. I’ve got an early morning.”
“Lessons?” I asked.
“Yep.”
I wanted to ask if I could see her. Coffee. A walk on the beach. Anything. I was desperate for her time and attention.
“Goodnight, Colt.”
Moment over. I missed my chance.
“Night, Summer.”
She walked up to her back door and let herself in without looking back. I stood there for another moment in the dark, listening to the water below, before I picked up my board and walked back up to the house.
The kitchen was lit up when I came in through the back. Cody was standing at the counter in a shirt and shorts, eating a bowl of cereal with milk dribbling down his chin. He looked up when I set my board against the wall.
He looked past me through the window. Then back at me. I knew he couldn’t see us in the driveway but given I’d come in the side entrance, it didn’t take a genius.
“Summer’s truck,” he said. “In the driveway.” He pointed his spoon at me. “And here you come walking through the side door.” He shook his head, grinning like an idiot. “And here we go again.”
“Go to bed, Cody.”
“It’s early.”
I pulled out a beer, twisted the cap, and took a drink. He waited for me to explain. Why did I feel like I was being interrogated by my little brother? I was a grown man. I could come through any door I pleased. I could stay out as long as I wanted with whoever I wanted.
“Nothing happened,” I said finally.
He pouted. “Poor Colt couldn’t close the deal.”
“That’s not what I was trying to do.”
“You’re such a liar.” He laughed. “Why not just admit you still want her? That always speeds the process along.”
“I told her I was sorry I never came back.”
“How’d she take it?”
“About how you’d expect.”
He took another bite, slurping the milk like he’d been doing since we were kids. “You broke her heart.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I mean, we weren’t serious. We only saw each other a couple of months out of the year. It’s not like we were a real couple. I think that’s what she wanted. She’s a free spirit.”
“No, that’s what you wanted her to be,” he said. “You came back here every year knowing you could pick right up where you left off. No leg work. No effort. You blew into town and she was there waiting. You treated her like an extended layover.”
“Fuck off. It was never like that.”
“Does she know that?”
“Yes. We both understood what it was. We weren’t making promises.”
“And yet, you avoided this place for four years. You didn’t come back that one summer for good reason, but we both know you could have come back before now. You were afraid to because you knew you screwed up.”
He wasn’t right, but he wasn’t entirely wrong.
I finished half the beer, thinking about that first summer I chose not to come back.
I imagined her waiting and then being disappointed.
At least that’s what I wanted to believe, but another part of me knew she was young.
Early twenties living in an area that welcomed summer tourists every year.
There would always be another guy like me looking for summer love before going back to his real life.
The second summer I stayed away, I told myself I couldn’t handle coming back and seeing her with another man. She had no reason to wait for me. I never promised her I’d see her again. I just never came back.
“I’m going to shower,” I said. “We’ve got shit to do in the morning.”
“Shit seems like an appropriate word,” he said with a laugh. “Think they found some cows? Maybe horses. Oh God, I hope it’s not chickenshit. That stuff makes my eyes water.”
“Let’s hope not,” I said, leaving the beer bottle on the counter.
“We should have brought our boots,” he called out as I climbed the stairs.
I knew I needed to focus on smoothing all the ruffled feathers in Surfside, but all I could think about was the girl next door. I wanted to soothe her wounded heart.