41. Summer
Summer
The past week has been the kind of happiness I forgot existed.
Chase and I have been wrapped up in our own cocoon. I work on my music and the house while he’s at the garage, and we alternate between his condo when Steele isn’t there and mine.
Addie has been busy helping her mom babysit Mia while Joanna figures out a routine to accommodate her new job at the hairdressing salon, so we haven’t had much of a chance to see each other the past two weeks.
I’ve been writing like I’m possessed. Songs are pouring out of me like lava, almost too fast to catch them. Inspiration will strike when I’m in the shower, or—less conveniently—the toilet.
Both my handbag and this house are full of scribbled-on napkins and scrap pieces of paper.
“This place looks so good!” Addie says, walking into my living room with a top-up packet of crackers.
She sets it down on the floor in front of me, plonking herself down beside it.
We’ve been sprawled on my living room floor, surrounded by her laptop, scattered papers, and a half-eaten charcuterie board.
“I’m so happy you ended up going with the brushed brass finishes. ”
“Me too.” My eyes sweep the room. “It’s like a totally different house.”
“Are you happy with it?”
“I love it.”
I do. It surprises me how much. When I first came back, I couldn’t wait to sell this place. All I wanted to do was sign the papers, pocket the money, and never think about it again. Every room suffocated me with memories I wanted to erase.
But now? It feels like mine.
I gutted and threw out everything that belonged to him. The recliner he’d often pass out in. The old ashtrays. The heavy curtains that left the place feeling stuffy. I ripped up the carpet riddled with bourbon stains and painted the walls that held in my cries for help.
The crosses were the first things to go.
He had them everywhere—above the kitchen sink, over the entryway table, in the hallway where the guests could see them.
Symbols of faith displayed like trophies.
Everyone believed it—believed him—the devout family man.
When Mom passed, the congregation who shook his hand on Sunday mornings would tell him how blessed he was to still have a beautiful, healthy daughter.
I know. I’m so grateful to still have my Summer, he’d tell them.
They never saw what happened behind closed doors. What bruises were hidden beneath the long sleeves. They never saw me.
I stopped attending once I was old enough to understand what it was.
I couldn’t pray to a God I wasn’t sure was listening to make it stop. I’d already lost enough hope.
Those crosses weren’t symbols of faith. They were nothing but a mask he wore to hide the monster underneath.
I ripped them down and didn’t feel an ounce of guilt.
But somewhere in the process of erasing him, I found her.
My mom.
The new curtains are sheer and flowing. They invite the sunshine in, letting it spill across the honey-gold floors and touch every surface with life. The fresh paint on the walls makes everything feel open and breathable.
The third step on the stairs still creaks. I couldn’t bring myself to have it fixed. Whenever my father used to complain about it, Mom always smiled and said it gave the house character. So, I keep the creak for her.
And the garden. God, the garden. I’ve spent endless hours out there, splashing as much color through the beds as possible.
Every time I play my guitar on the porch bench, I look out at what I’ve grown and feel peace. It’s as if I’ve rewritten my story and didn’t let the darkness win.
This house isn’t a graveyard anymore.
“Still gonna sell it?” Addie asks.
I chew the inside of my cheek. “I haven’t decided yet.”
She shrugs a shoulder. “You can afford to keep it—so keep it.”
“You think?”
“Why not? Might be nice to have somewhere to return to when you need a break or some inspiration.”
I mull over her words. “Yeah … maybe.”
“So,” Addie says, tossing a grape into her mouth. “Label loved the demos you sent over.”
My brows lift. “Yeah?”
“Uh-huh.” She mindlessly scrolls through her phone, not looking at me. “Tim called this morning. He said they’re as good as your debut album. Best stuff you’ve produced in years.”
Warmth fizzles in my chest. “Wow.”
“Yeah.” She finally looks at me. “They’re obsessed, Sum. Whatever’s been happening here”—she waves a hand around my living room—“keep doing it.”
I think about Chase. Sure, the writing started flowing as soon as I sat at Mom’s old piano two weeks ago, but I know it’s largely due to my connection with him.
“What happened, anyway?” she asks, munching away on her fruit.
“What do you mean?”
“To get in the flow,” she says dramatically, flapping her hand in the air. “You were creatively constipated in New York. What’s different here?”
I go to speak, but the words catch in my throat.
“Well?” she presses.
Shit. I’ve never been able to keep things from her.
I grab a cracker and shove it in my mouth to buy time.
Addie’s eyes narrow. “What aren’t you telling me?”
I chew very, very slowly.
“Oh my God.” She jerks into a sitting position, her cell forgotten. “Something happened. Something big. I can see it all over your annoyingly beautiful face.”
“Nothing happened,” I lie.
“You’re such a bad liar.” She points a grape at me. “Spill. Now.”
I swallow the cracker and it goes down like sandpaper. “Chase and I …”
“No!” She gasps.
I wince.
Her eyes go wide. “You’re sleeping with him!”
My face turns hot.
“You are, aren’t you? You’re boning Shitmore!” she shrieks, loud enough that I’m grateful the windows are closed. “Summer! When did this happen? How long has this been going on? Why am I only finding out now?”
“It’s been like … two weeks?”
“Two weeks?” She pelts a grape at me, and it smacks my forehead.
“Hey!” I rub the spot.
“I’ve been wiping snot and spit off a toddler.
Do you have any idea what that’s like?” She points to herself.
“Two days ago, I walked into her nursery to find she’d painted herself and her wall with her own shit.
Meanwhile, you’ve been having a whirlwind romance with your ex-lover and never thought to lead with that information? ”
“Uhhh …”
“Well?” She arches a brow.
“Well, what?”
“Give me the details! Is it amazing?” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“Is what amazing?”
She rolls her eyes. “The sex. Obviously.”
The warmth of my blush winds up my neck. “It’s … nice.”
“It’s nice,” she repeats, deadpan. “Summer, a gentle breeze and a glass of rosé are nice. I need more than that.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Fine—it’s incredible. Is that what you want to hear? It feels like I’m being split open in the best way possible.”
She presses her lips together and I know she’s dying to ask me something.
“What?” I relent.
“Is it big?”
“His penis?”
“No, his mortgage. Yes, his penis!”
“I am not telling you that.”
“Oh, please.” She waves her hand dismissively. “You’ve removed tampons in front of me. This is nothing.”
“It’s not like I have many penises to compare it to.”
“Be so for real. A woman knows when a man is big.”
“Fine.” I groan. “Yes, he’s big. I’m certain he must suffer from anemia just by getting an erection. I haven’t been able to stop jumping him.”
“Really?” She leans in.
“I’ll put it this way—he’s taller lying on his back.”
Addie wipes a fake tear. “That’s beautiful.”
I snatch the grape off the floor and toss it back at her. She raises her forearm to block it, but it hits her square between her brows.
“I feel like we could pitch this as a romance novel.” Her grin is wolfish. She drags her hand through the air, as if she can see it now. “The broody mechanic and the runaway pop star, finally reunited after a decade of longing and yearning.” Her arm drops. “It practically sells itself.”
“You’re a dickhead.”
She reaches for more cheese, slicing herself a thick wedge of Brie. “So that’s the secret ingredient to songwriting, huh? Getting dicked on the regular and suddenly the creative juices flow.”
“How on earth do you run my life?”
“I’m multifaceted.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder. “Anyway, I knew it was only a matter of time before you would be blowing his bagpipes.”
My mouth falls open. “You are revolting.”
She winks, entirely too pleased with herself. “So, what happens now?”
The question bursts my bubble immediately. My face falls, sobering her own expression.
“With me and him?”
“Yeah.” She gestures vaguely. “You. Him. New York. This album. The tour … what are you gonna do?”
The warmth in my chest from earlier cools.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “We haven’t really talked about it.”
“You haven’t?” she says around her mouthful. “Sum, you’re due in New York in a couple weeks to record. Then there’s promo. Then rehearsals and a tour. That’s nearly twelve months away from here. From him …”
Iron clamps around my lungs. “I know.”
She scrunches her nose. “I think maybe you guys need to discuss this.”
“I will.” Eventually.
A pause. “What are you thinking?”
I love making music, but I don’t want to go.
“I just realized …” I pick at my nails. “I’m leaving him again … hurting him again.”
“Oh, Sum. It’s not the same thing—”
“Isn’t it?” My hand falls to my lap. “I disappear, come back, everything is perfect, and then … what? Hop on a plane and wave goodbye? He’s supposed to be okay with that?”
“What if he comes with you?”
“To New York? What’s he going to do in New York? He has a business. His mom is about to—” I cut myself off, unable to articulate the words. “It’s not that simple.”
Addie is quiet for a moment. “You can come back here.”
This is as far as I’ve allowed myself to think on the topic.
Staying here isn’t realistic. Recording remotely would be a nightmare.
The internet can barely handle Zoom calls, let alone uploading studio-quality files.
I’d have to build an entire studio. My apartment is in New York.
My team is in New York. My entire career is three thousand miles away.
There isn’t anything left for me here.
Except him.
“My whole life is in New York,” I whisper.
We sit in silence before Addie finally speaks. “He knows who you are, Sum. He knows what your life looks like. It’s not like you’re springing this on him. You’re adults—you can figure it out.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier. I’ll still be gone for, what—”
“Two years,” she murmurs, finishing my sentence. Her gaze falls to the carpet. “No. I guess it doesn’t.”
Leaving for two years at one of his most vulnerable times. The time he’ll need the people he loves most. And I can’t stay for him.
I think about what Felicity told me. About the invisible string. What if we’ve already had our moment? What if the universe gave us this second chance and I’m about to waste it?
What if the string snaps?
“Do you think long distance is realistic?” I ask, my voice small.
Addie exhales slowly. “Honestly? It depends on the people.”
I cross my arms, tipping my head to the ceiling.
She shifts to face me fully. “I don’t have the answer for you. Some couples survive it. Some don’t. It comes down to whether you’re both willing to fight for it.”
“What if he decides it’s not worth it?” The fear I’ve been burying rolls out like a welcome mat. “What if we spend so much time apart, missing each other’s calls or drifting apart, and he decides he wants someone who can actually be there?”
“Summer—”
“I’m serious.” I sit up straight, tucking my legs to my chest. “I can’t just ask him to wait for me. What about the next record? How is that fair?”
“He sold his truck so you had money to skip town, I hardly think distance will stop him,” she blurts.
I freeze. “What?”
She slaps a hand over her mouth, eyes shooting wide. “Oh my God.” Her words are muffled beneath her palm.
“What did you just say?”
“Nothing.”
“Say it again, Addie.” My tone is harder.
She shakes her head. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”
“Tell me what?” My heart is pounding now. “What do you mean he sold his truck?”
Her eyes flutter closed. “When you came to my house—after your father …” She opens them. “He turned up on my doorstep the following day.”
I nod, encouraging her to continue.
“He had an envelope.”
“How much?” I ask.
“How much of it was his?” she clarifies.
“How much, Addie?”
She rolls her lips. “Almost all of it.”
The room tilts.
“You said it was from your savings. You said you’d been putting money aside and demanded I take it.” My voice is shaking. “That was a lie.”
Her eyes turn glassy. “He made me promise. He knew you wouldn’t take it if you knew it was—”
“Of course I wouldn’t have taken it! He had nothing!” I bellow, pushing to my feet. Addie’s up as quick as a flash, trailing after me as I march through the house.
“Where are your keys?”
“Summer—”
“Where are they?” I scan every surface.
“Kitchen table.”
I snatch her keys off the table and beeline for the front door. Addie’s footsteps slap against the hardwood behind me.
“Summer, stop!”
I don’t stop. I can’t. My chest is on fire, and my head is spinning, and I need to see him.
“Summer!” Addie grabs my elbow and spins me around. “You are not driving like this.”
“Watch me.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” She pries the keys from my grip before I can react. “I can see the smoke coming out of your nostrils. I’m not letting you behind the wheel.” She tips her head in the direction of her car. “Get in. I’ll drive you.”
“Fine,” I grit out.
The ride to the garage is silent. I’m too busy filling the cabin with my fury.
I can feel Addie watching me. She looks like she’s about to crush the steering wheel, she’s holding it so damn tight.
I stare out the window, watching the town pass in a blur.
He sold his truck so I could run away from him.
I don’t know what to do with that information. I feel … terrible.
Addie sighs. “He made me promise. You wouldn’t have taken it otherwise, and you needed it. Please don’t be angry at us.”
“I’m not angry.”
It’s half true. I’m furious, but I equally want to climb into his lap and kiss his stupid mouth too.
Addie glances at me before focusing back on the road. “You have a big, fat vein protruding from your forehead.”
“I do not.” I look away before swinging back to her. “Hold on. I paid that money back after my first album. I gave it to you!”
Her body locks up.
“Addie.”
“Mmm.”
“What did you do with the money?”
“Nothing.”
“Addie,” I warn her.
“Fine. I got my boobs done.”
“What?! You mean I paid for those?”
“Technically, Chase did.”
“Oh my God.”
“I’ll pay you back.”
I rub my face. “Don’t bother. I’m rich.”
She stifles a smile, the little shit.
By the time we pull into the garage parking lot, I’m barely holding it together. Addie kills the engine and twists to face me.
“Sum—”
“Don’t wait for me.” I’m already unbuckling my seat belt and reaching for the door handle.
“Maybe you should take a breath—”
“Don’t wait for me.” I meet her eyes before mine drop to her double-D chest. “Dammit. They do look good.”
She squares her shoulders. “They’re a work of art.”
I slam the car door and don’t look back.