54. Jace
Jace
Ipush open the lodge door. Flip slips past me, nose skimming the floor, and trots to the counter.
The front desk looks like it closed early. The wall lamps leave the corners of the room in shadow. Yumi looks up at me.
“Jace.”
She doesn’t smile. She slides an envelope toward me, my name written on it.
“She left this for you.”
I recognize Summer’s handwriting. Round, slanting right, the J too big. I bite back a smile. She could’ve texted me; she went with a note instead. I take the envelope and peel back the flap. Flip sits at my feet, ears up.
I read the first line without understanding it. I read it again.
I’m not coming back.
I brace one hand on the counter.
I love you. It’s not enough.
I read it again, the middle, the end, out of order.
Don’t contact me.
My fingers tighten on the paper. Yumi watches me. She knows. She knew when she handed me the envelope.
“When?” I ask, my voice rough.
“A little over an hour ago.”
An hour. She’s on the road. She’s already miles away.
Flip presses his nose against my thigh. I push him aside.
Footsteps echo down the service hallway. Noah appears in stained coveralls, his lighter between his fingers.
“Yumi, Bungalow 17—you want me to swing by tonight, or can it wait till morning?”
She doesn’t answer. Noah spots me, cracks a small smile.
“Summer moved in with you, in the trailer? Is that why we’re getting Bungalow 17 back?”
His smile fades. He frowns.
“What’s wrong?”
My hand shakes as I hold the letter out to him. He takes it, starts reading.
Right then, the outer door slams. Avery storms in, furious, hair loose, sneakers shoved on and unlaced.
“Jace.”
Her voice is hard. She should be at the apartment with Mom, not here.
I move toward her.
“What’s going on, Avy?”
She plants herself in front of me, arms crossed, jaw tight.
“If some guy bet a hundred bucks he’d sleep with me, what would you do?”
I go rigid. Someone did this to her. I clench my fists.
“I’d gouge his eyes out. Why?”
“Then why did you do it to Summer?”
I stare at Avery. She can’t be talking about me.
“What the hell is this?”
She doesn’t answer.
“Who told you that?”
“Summer did.”
A sharp sound makes me turn my head. Noah’s gone white, still holding the letter. His lighter has rolled to his feet.
“Oh, fuck,” he says.
“What do you mean, ‘fuck’?”
He drags a hand over his face, opens his mouth, closes it again.
“Noah, what?” Avery says.
“It’s a misunderstanding,” he says, not looking at me.
“What are you talking about?” I shout.
“I... I said something stupid to Ryan at the diner. Six years ago. I... fuck.”
“What did you say?”
Noah can’t look me in the eye.
“That you’d won a bet. That you’d bet a hundred bucks you’d take her virginity.”
I freeze. Avery’s eyes go wide.
“That’s not true...”
Noah shakes his head.
“Of course it’s not true. The bet was the cliffs. The Last Ride. Summer came into the diner. I didn’t see her walk in. She heard, and she left.”
It all clicks. Summer asking me, Was this another fucking bet? Me shrugging, brushing the question off, asking if we can move on.
“When she talked about that bet, I thought she meant surfing under the cliffs. Splitting at dawn after our first time—yeah, that wasn’t cool, I could get that. But I couldn’t get why she took it so hard.”
A short laugh escapes me.
“No wonder she thinks I’m a complete asshole.”
And I lunge at Noah.
The punch comes before I can stop it. My fist smashes into his jaw. He drops the letter, stumbles back a step, hits the counter. Flip barks and doesn’t stop.
I hit him again. One to the ribs, another to his shoulder. Noah lifts an arm to shield his face. He doesn’t throw a single punch back.
“Jace, stop!” Avery screams.
She grabs my T-shirt, yanks me back. I push her away; she comes right back.
“Jace, please...” she begs.
I draw my fist back to swing again. Yumi catches my wrist and squeezes.
I lower my fist. Blood runs from Noah’s nose and his lip is split.
I grab him by the collar.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know she’d heard, Jace. I swear!”
“No, not back then! I’m talking about now. Right now!”
“She... she brought it up once,” he stammers. “On a run. I mean... she didn’t want to talk about it, she changed the subject right away. I tried to talk to you about it after. You wouldn’t listen.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. That was when he came surfing with us, the first time.
“Later, I tried again. She told me you two had talked about it. That it was settled.”
I let go of Noah. Flip’s gone quiet. He stands two steps away, ears down.
“Fuck, it wasn’t settled at all,” I mutter.
Avery steps toward Noah, finger pointed at him.
“Noah, why did you tell Ryan that? Why did you make up that bullshit bet?”
He wipes the blood off his lip with the back of his hand. His eyes move from Avery to me.
“Ryan was trashing Summer. I wanted to shut him up.”
I take a step toward him.
“By feeding him shit about me?”
“Look, I knew you’d slept with her. You two never told me, but I knew.”
“So what?”
“So it wasn’t me, and I—”
“Noah.”
I clench my fists.
“I said it because... because... I don’t know, Jace, I was in love with her, goddammit!”
“You were what?”
Noah doesn’t answer. He stares at the floor.
“You were in love with her, and you told Ryan I bet on her virginity,” I say, low.
“I was jealous, Jace.”
I raise my fist. He doesn’t move away.
“Go ahead, hit me if you want. It won’t change anything.”
I lower my fist, because he’s right.
Summer’s gone.
I grab my phone and dial her number. It barely rings. Voicemail. I hang up, try again, no better luck. She must have blocked me.
“You call her,” I say.
Noah calls her and shakes his head.
“For all I know, she never even unblocked me.”
Avery already has her phone to her ear. She waits, hangs up without leaving a message, calls again, hangs up.
“I’m getting her voicemail too,” she sighs. “She must’ve turned her phone off.”
I type a message. Delete it. Type another. Send it.
Summer, it’s a misunderstanding. I just figured it out. Call me back, please!
Unread.
I pick up the letter. Yumi pulls Avery close and talks to her too low for me to hear. Noah hasn’t moved. He stares at his bloodstained hand.
Flip comes over and licks my fingers. I stroke his head, my eyes on the crumpled letter in my other hand.
Summer’s gone for good.