47. Summer
Summer
Two days.
It feels like two years.
I peer down at my phone, chest heaving, and stare at the blank screen as if I can conjure a message.
Nothing.
No missed calls. No texts. Just the same silence that’s been waiting for me every time I’ve checked, which is embarrassingly often.
Every time my phone lights up, I feel like my stomach is about to fall out of my ass.
And every time it’s not him, I remind myself that’s what I wanted.
That this was the plan. That silence was always going to be the outcome, and I should be relieved we aren’t chasing something that would inevitably end.
I had to do what I did. I know that. We would have burned each other down eventually.
The past few weeks have been so intense; we’ve been so tangled up in each other and our history that would never logically follow us into our futures.
It’s better I end it now before we made something beautiful into something broken again.
That’s what I tell myself … I’ve been telling myself a lot of things the past few days.
I was only ever going to be here for a few weeks. That was always the arrangement. I did what I came to do. Now I go home.
“Jesus, Sum.” Joanna’s voice cuts through the sound of my labored breathing. “You look constipated.”
“You flatter me,” I deadpan.
“What are you huffing and puffing for?” she asks. “I thought you were supposed to be, like, super fit.” She points at herself. “I’m the one pushing a stroller uphill with a thirty-five-pound baby.”
I plant both hands on my hips and glare at the incline ahead of me. “Give me a break.”
“To be fair,” Addie says, not panting at all, “it’s been a while since she’s done anything strenuous.”
I side-eye her.
“I’m not talking about sex,” she adds helpfully.
I feel my cheeks flush.
“Ew.” Joanna scrunches her nose.
“It’s been like two years since she last toured,” Addie remarks. “Remember? She was basically a hermit. Forget exercise. She barely left the apartment or bathed for a year.”
“Hey!”
“What?” Addie shrugs with zero remorse. “It’s true. I had to visit every second day to make sure you weren’t eaten by a herd of stray cats.”
“I bathed, thank you very much,” I murmur, shoving my cell back in my leggings pocket.
“Bathing is a stretch.”
“Hardly,” I counter.
“Debatable.”
Joanna presses her lips together to suppress a smile. Mia is fast asleep; one chubby cheek squashed against the harness and her rosy lips parted slightly.
I jog a few steps to catch up, falling into step beside them.
“Still nothing?” Joanna remarks, eyeing my cell.
“Nope.”
“Have you thought about reaching out?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m the one who ended it.” I stare ahead, desperate to look anywhere but at them.
“Then why are you checking your phone every five minutes?”
“I’m not,” I lie.
“Sure.”
Addie goes conspicuously quiet beside me.
“What?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to. It rolls off you in waves.”
She lifts her hands in surrender. “I’m just exercising.”
“Addie. Say it.”
She exhales sharply through her nose. “Fine. I think that if you ended it because you genuinely don’t want it—if you looked at what he was offering and decided it wasn’t for you—then great. Jump on the plane and move on.”
“But?” I ask as the sidewalk finally levels out. I expel a sharp burst of air.
“But,” Addie continues, “if you ended it because you’re scared, then I think you’re being an idiot.”
“Addie!” Joanna admonishes.
“What? She is,” Addie insists. “She’s my best friend, she’s family, but that man loves her.”
I don’t say anything. I know he does. She’s not wrong.
Yet I can’t help but feel that I’m saving us both inevitable heartbreak down the line.
My career doesn’t make my personal life easy.
It’s demanding, it’s emotionally taxing, it’s not for the faint-hearted.
Sure, this is what I always wanted, but it doesn’t come without its flaws.
I can’t drag someone like Chase into that.
He would hate it. Imagine it—Chase at an industry event, surrounded by people in designer labels.
Chase in a New York penthouse with no ocean and no car and no early-morning surf to reset him.
Chase would only become a smaller version of himself in a city that was never built for someone like him.
New York and fame would swallow him whole.
The same way it has me.
So yes. I am protecting him.
“The kind of love you two have for each other doesn’t just go away because you told it to.” Addie pauses. “You decided it was too much of a risk. That’s not protecting him, Sum. That’s protecting yourself.”
“Seeing as you’re so good at analyzing the situation, what, pray tell, am I protecting myself from?” I spit, the words harsh.
“Allowing yourself to be loved,” she says simply.
I swallow my rebuttal, trying to form a response when Joanna cuts in, severing me from my thoughts.
“You mean the same way you’re protecting yourself from Steele?” Joanna fires at her, cocking a pointed brow.
“That’s different and you know it,” Addie shoots back with an incredulous look.
Joanna scoffs. “Sure.”
We round the corner, Addie’s house coming into view. I spot Rhonda outside, sitting on the front stoop. Her hands are folded in her lap and when she lifts her head, her eyes find mine immediately.
She doesn’t look at Joanna or Addie.
She doesn’t say anything either.
Everything inside me stills.
“Mom?” Joanna says, leaning over to unclip Mia. “Is everything okay?”
Addie’s gaze ping-pongs between us.
The birds are singing. The sun is shining. And yet I feel nothing but cold against my skin. My pulse thuds in my ears, drowning everything else out.
“No,” I whisper as understanding washes over me.
“Summer,” Rhonda says finally. Her eyes fill as she attempts a small, sad smile.
My hand covers my mouth and I shake my head.
Rhonda holds out her hand to me, but I step back. “No.”
“It happened last night,” she says, her voice thin.
“Mom, what’s going on?” Addie asks, but I’m already moving, spinning on my feet.
“Summer!” Addie calls, but I ignore her.
Adrenaline fuels me, and I pump my arms and legs as fast as I can, heading in the other direction toward Juniper Terrace.
Chase, Chase, Chase.
I’m a mess of tears and sweat when I turn onto my street.
He’s on my porch bench, his elbows on his knees, head hanging between his shoulders.
I’m not sure if he hears me in my haste, but he doesn’t lift his head. Or maybe he just can’t yet.
I jog up the steps and when the boards creak underfoot, he finally looks up.
I stop.
His eyes are bloodshot and red-rimmed and swollen. His face is blotchy, his chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm.
I press my palm flat over my heart.
“Chase.” His name falls out of me, shattering to pieces as it lands on the floor.
One sharp nod is all he gives me as a single tear traces a glossy path down his cheek.
He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t need to.
She’s gone.
Without hesitation, I close the distance between us and fold myself down beside him, pulling him into me. His forehead finds my shoulder and the moment I encase him in my arms, he falls apart.
His whole body shakes as I melt into him, my nervous system settling like slipping into a well-worn coat, recognizing him as a sanctuary—hoping I can provide that same feeling for him.
I’ve never heard him cry like this. Chase has always been the type to carry everything quietly.
I know he writes, but it’s more than that.
On the outside, Chase looks like he can handle any situation by folding it into himself, absorbing and processing it privately.
He always finds the strength to keep going. But I know him better than that.
Chase feels deeply. He just doesn’t hand that part of himself to everyone. It’s his strength that allows him to carry on. He doesn’t perform. He doesn’t ever ask for help.
He’s the most quietly resilient person I’ve ever known.
I hold him tighter.
It’s as if someone has taken an axe to my gut. Something inside me splits open as a sob breaks from me.
His grip tightens, fisting my shirt. I press my lips to his temple, offering him the only comfort I’m able to.
The grief of losing a parent doesn’t respond to words. You can’t talk someone through it. You can only sit beside them in it and stay.
So, I sit with him.