Summer's Road (10 page)

Rick took a swig of beer from his bottle. “Matt’s in town. We both know why. And if Summer doesn’t shut down or bolt when he takes it to the next level, you won’t get her. You won’t get the girl.”

A knife wound to the gut with a battery acid chaser. I groaned, fisting my hands in my hair. “I just never saw her going there, actually settling down. This is Summer, you know? The hopeless romantic who wants to live in an old movie, but flees the minute her relationships threaten to get serious.” She wanted a family, kids, but kept drawing herself up short anytime she got close to that possibility.

Rising, I resumed my pacing. “Does she love him, you think?”

Rick swallowed. “I don’t think it matters.”

Worst part? That was the God’s honest truth. Matt was one of the few people in her comfort zone, and though she’d be settling with him, she would do it to not be alone anymore.

Dee barreled through the front door, Summer laughing on her heels.

She seemed happy, considering she’d been upset the night before. Christ, her eyes. When she smiled like she meant it, when it wasn’t out of politeness or something forced, she could bring down satellites. She stole my breath. Her battle with depression had the fear of God nipping at my heels for years. But this...this was all her. The real her she almost never let out of the box.

Dee held up a very small yellow bikini and grinned wickedly. “It’ll look good on our girl here, yeah?”

Fuck me dead. The images. Oh, the images.

I shot Summer a look. The pressure in my skull and unadulterated punch of lust in my gut must have showed estimably on my face, because she whipped her head back in reaction. Hell. She suspected. There was no doubt. Understanding hardened her gaze. Surprise parted her lips. It only took her ten years and me freezing up when she’d asked for the truth to get us here.

Now what? Panic shredded my insides.

She bowed her head and blushed.
Blushed
. I wondered if the adorable pink tinge to her cheeks was from the purchase or the awkward awareness between us that seemed to grow overnight. She typically dressed for comfort, not trends. Certainly not anything too revealing. A bikini wasn’t her thing.

Shit. The visual came again.

“Matt will go nuts, don’t you think? Now that he’s moving to Charlotte and they’re officially a couple, we needed to get her something to spark, you know…” Dee winked.

And...lights out. That’s all, folks. Air? Gone. Heart? Stopped. Hope? Withered to dust.

The glare Summer gave Dee should have killed her mid-sentence.

Dee shrugged. “What? It’s not a secret. You would have told them.”

Summer rolled her eyes in response.

I exchanged a holy-shit look with Rick, unable to speak. After a long, awkward moment, my gaze landed back on Summer. “Congratulations,” I croaked. “He better take good care of you.” Damn if my heart didn’t just crack in two. Out. I needed out of here. “I have to go.”

Summer reached for me as I passed her. “I need to talk to you.”

It took every ounce of will in my body to put on my go-to smile when all I wanted to do was crawl in a hole. I kissed her on the cheek. “I have to check on the store. I’ll see you later.”

Fifteen minutes later, I marched through the entry of my small shop and threw the door open, banging it against the wall with a resounding thud. The sound was only a quarter as loud as my heartbeat.

Matt was moving to Charlotte. His relationship with Summer was no longer casual. In the not too distant future, he’d propose to her, she’d say yes, and they’d have a litter of perfect, blond babies. Exactly what she’d always wanted. A family. To belong.

I growled, knowing I’d done this to myself. Whether she’d suspected I’d wanted more than friendship before didn’t matter. I hadn’t told her, hadn’t made it clear. Though I was damn certain she was beginning to figure it out, she’d still taken that step with Matt.

Shit. We used to talk about these things, about everything. When we’d discussed the matter the past few days, almost is if in passing, she’d given me no indication she’d take the leap with him if Matt asked. I had to wonder if she was grabbing contentment with both hands or running from me.

Julie, one of my employees, stared blankly at me from behind the counter. Our personalities clashed well. She was calm, efficient, and only lifted an eyebrow when I barked at her. Her presence allowed me to work from home in my woodshop rather than focus on selling.

I sighed. “I’m sorry. Bad day.” I carefully closed the door.

She smiled, obviously used to and not amused by my moods.

I glanced around the store. Opening it had been Summer’s idea when the retail shop went on the market. I never would regret it. Bookshelves cased the back wall from end to end, filling the place with an old, musty fragrance. The walls were painted a deep, rich blue. Also Summer’s idea. She’d thought the color would immediately calm customers, and it did. She’d designed the logo, too. The shop floor held all my hand-crafted pieces. Rocking chairs, desks, shelves, a few tables. I did custom orders also, but that was rare. My website had pictures of what was available. Most purchases came from tourists or online.

We weren’t raking in the numbers, but I had a comfortable pocketbook. A cushion from my grandfather’s estate when he’d passed away made up for slow periods.

I glanced at Julie. “Were we busy today?”

“Not really.”

I nodded. Customers tended to come in waves. “Are you sure you’ll be okay while I’m gone on vacation?”

She smiled again, placating. “I’ll be fine. I have the number if anything goes wrong and you gave me the schedule for the other part-timers a month ago.”

Julie had been with me four years. I’d closed up shop in the past while I’d vacationed, but she’d talked me into staying open this year.

I headed back toward my office, deciding to do the totals from last week. Typically, Rick did them for me, but I needed the distraction.

After an hour, I rubbed my eyes, glad we were doing more than breaking even. From June through August we tended to make the most profit. The draw of tourists and vacationers pulled the sales. We’d hit another jump around Christmas.

Julie walked in and set the change drawer down on my desk. “Do you need me to close up?”

“No, I’ll do it. Thanks.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” She smiled and walked out.

I leaned back in my chair, scrubbing my hands over my hair. My gaze raked over the painting Summer made for me the other day. It seemed fitting to put it in my office, but now there wasn’t even an escape here. Sighing, I got up and locked the store, shutting off lights along the way.

From my pocket, my cell rang. I debated ignoring it, but answered without checking the ID. “Yeah.”

“Is that any way to talk to your mother?” Her smooth voice was laced with amusement.

I smiled. “Hi, Mama. Sorry, bad day.”

“Hmm. How are things? Summer okay? The store?”

“Things are fine. The store is doing well. We’re in the black.”

There was a pause as if she was waiting for me to elaborate. “And Summer? How is my sweet girl?”

“Fine.” I frowned. Summer was peachy. Me, on the other hand, had ulcers on my ulcers.

I couldn’t see the smile on Mom’s face, but I could hear it in her voice. “Okay then, honey. We’re leaving tomorrow morning for Tennessee. I left you kids some food and the house is as clean as I’m willing to get it. So, you’ll be all right?”

She was referring to Seasmoke, where her and Dad lived now that they’d retired. They were driving to Memphis to visit Mom’s sister while we were in Myrtle next week. “Of course, Mama.”

“Drive carefully,” she warned. “I love you.”

I dropped into my office chair. “I love you, too. Hi to Dad.”

“Tell my surrogate daughter I say the same to her.”

Meaning Summer. I shook my head. “Will do.”

With a long sigh, I hung up and noticed the rain had started pouring while I was on the phone. Which meant, more than likely, Summer would come over tonight. She always did when it rained.

On the way to my car, parked out front, I bumped solidly into Tim Avery. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.” I pulled Summer’s attorney under the awning over the front door. “You okay?”

“Fine, fine.” He waved me off. “I saw your back light on and thought I’d come by to get your parents’ number. I might need it for the hearing.”

I wondered if the man had hit his head when we’d collided. “What hearing?”

“They scheduled the preliminary hearing for the property tomorrow. I may not need your parents for that, but if it goes to a trial…”

Prickles of warning skittered up my spine. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

Tim’s eyes widened and his shoulders squared. “Summer didn’t tell you. Oh, gosh. I assumed…It’s just you two are close. I thought…”

My stomach sank like lead. “You thought Summer told me what?”

His lips twisted as if considering whether to divulge. Everyone in Wylie knew Summer and I were joined at the hip, our bond stronger than blood. Tim nodded, probably assuming Summer would tell me the info on her own anyway. “Her mother is trying to take possession of the house. Tom never changed the deed. We have a hearing on…”

Her...mother? The one who’d abandoned Summer before she could walk?
That mother?
I had no idea she’d even come back to town, never mind the house.

Christ. No.

I blinked through the rain, shock morphing into dread. Tim was still rambling, but I didn’t hear anything else. I bolted to the car, dialed Summer’s number, and roared down 49 toward home.

CHAPTER SIX

Fifteen Years Ago—Age Thirteen

I
n moments like this, I wished I had a mom. Most of the time, I told myself I didn’t give a hoot whether that woman gave me away and ran as far as she could, that she didn’t love me and left me wondering why. Or how there was a hole in my heart which couldn’t be filled.

But when a girl gets her period for the first time, she just wants her mom. Though it left me feeling stupid and weak, I wanted her. I wanted my mother. She would tell me what to do, not to worry, explain things.

We’d gone over it all in school. I’d giggled from my lone perch behind the other girls and rolled my eyes. But now, as I sat on the floor of the bathroom, I wished I’d paid more attention in health class. Panic was threatening to take over, and I fought not to have another attack. My heart beated a mile a minute.

Should I tell Daddy? Did he know about this stuff? Maybe I could ask Mrs. Memmer. Ian’s mama could help, right? Yes. What other choice was there?

I rushed to the phone and dialed the number with shaking hands.
Oh God, please don’t let Ian answer. Please! Please!

“Hello?”

“Um, hi, Mrs. Memmer.” Maybe I shouldn’t have called. I’d been on my own, just me and Daddy, for so long. I should handle the situation myself.

“Oh, hello, Summer. Ian’s right here. Hold on.”

“No!” I quickly looked around to make sure Daddy hadn’t heard. “I mean, I’m calling to, um…”

“Are you okay, sweetie?”

Great. Just great. I had Mrs. Memmer thinking I was nuts.
Just spit it out.
“Um, I have a female thing.”

“A female…
Oh.
” She paused and I bit my lip. “I’ll be right over.”

I hung up, my cheeks stinging in hot mortification.

Lately, things had been different. Changing. I was liking boys, wearing a bra—though it was a trainer one and not a real one, but still. Now I got my period.

And here I was, motherless, with a carpenter father who probably didn’t know about girly stuff. Like, what I was supposed to wear to the school dance. How to cut my hair. The proper way to shave my legs.

At the knock on the bathroom door, I let Mrs. Memmer in and left Ian in the hall, scathing he was left out of the loop. We may have been BFFs, but no way, absolutely no way, was I sharing this with him.

After his mom got me squared away, Ian and I walked down to the creek behind our houses and sat on the bank. Humidity made my shirt cling and Ian’s brown hair curl at the ends. The sunlight had lightened it through the summer, but it was still dark. Like his eyes.

A lot of the girls were crushing on him at school. I’d never been in the popular crowd, but I’d heard them talking. I wondered what it would be like to be kissed, especially by someone like him. Ian was cute and self-assured. I bet he’d kissed lots of girls. I’d be sloppy and he wouldn’t like it.

He looked over and did a double-take, catching me staring. The scent of moss and grass swirled around us, the mosquitoes active. Neither of us moved. He smelled like boy sweat and dirt. The heat from his shoulder seeped into my skin where we very nearly touched. I had the weirdest urge to lean against him.

Finally, he swallowed and looked away. “What was that about back at your house? You and my mom?”

I shrugged. “Girl stuff.”

“Oh.” He picked up a pebble and skipped it across the creek. “You’re okay, though?” His dark eyes met mine, worried.

I smiled. “I’m okay.”

He nodded. Fast. “Good. That’s good.”

Present—Ian

I
was drenched from the downpour and shaking from frenetic worry by the time I shoved my way through Summer’s back door. I’d called her seven times from the road and she hadn’t picked up once.

Growing up, she hadn’t had it so easy. Rivers and I had tried to be her knights in armor, protecting her from the ugly. But kids, they could be mean. Though Summer had acted tough and pretended her mother’s absence didn’t affect her, it had.

Her mother. I didn’t know what to make of it. After all these years, what could the woman possibly want? And why try to take Summer’s house, as Tim claimed? Had she come here, tried to talk to Summer? My stomach twisted and my temples throbbed. I swear, if that woman had upset her...

“Summer!”

No answer. Both her vehicles were in the carport. The kitchen was empty. So was the living room. Panic contorted from a mere sensation to an entity inside my chest.

“Summer!”

Horrific, awful images from the day after Tom’s funeral pummeled my memory. Desperation carried me up her staircase, two steps at a time. My chest was so tight I could barely draw air. I had no idea if Sharon Quinn’s presence would affect Summer, if it would wreck her or if she’d truly be impassive to Sharon’s return. I might be overreacting, yet I couldn’t shake the possibility that all those old feelings of abandonment Summer had harbored might shove their way to the surface. Might screw with her depression. Might...

“Summer!”

Not in her bedroom. A raw, wounded noise shoved past my throat. I opened her studio door at the top of the staircase and jerked short.

With her back to me, immersed in a painting, she bobbed up and down on her toes to whatever tune she’d cranked on her iPod. The earbuds would be why she hadn’t answered the phone. Paintbrush in hand, she tilted her head to study the canvas on her easel. My gaze raked over her as if swallowing her whole, relief making my hands shake. She was wearing short cutoffs and a white tee, both splattered in paint. Her feet were bare, the norm, and her hair was up in a messy knot.

The last of my apprehension drained as desire kicked in. What I wouldn’t do to be able to fist my hand in her hair, tug out that ponytail, and ravish her pouty mouth. Lay her out on her paint-stained floor, cover her perfect body with my own, and show her just what I’d fantasized about for years. I shook my head, sucking in a breath to control myself before other body parts got any ideas.

She didn’t appear to be catatonic from her mother’s reappearance. Jesus, she was fine. Just damn fine. Or appeared to be. She was damn good at faking it.

But I wasn’t fine. Not by a long shot.

I rounded her easel, edging into her line of sight.

She screamed bloody murder, did some kind of seizure dance, and pulled out her earbuds. Cute, that. “God, Ian! You scared me to death.”

Good. We were even then, considering she scared a year off my life. “Why did I have to hear from your attorney that your mother filed suit for the house?”

The light drained from her eyes, and she looked away. She turned to swirl her brush in a glass of paint thinner. Her hand, so beautiful, so delicate, shook with the movement.

My guard went right back up. Every ingrained instinct on red alert. “Summer, look at me.”

Her mouth thinned, her gaze landing on my chest as if she were unable to meet my eyes. “She came by a week ago. My mother, I mean. That’s when I found out. Tim is trying to fix it. I tried to tell you today at Rick and Dee’s, but you had to go into the store.”

I rubbed my neck. Damn, she had tried to talk to me. I’d blown her off, pissed as all hell about Matt and a stupid swimming suit. “Don’t lie to me, because I’ll know. Are you okay?”

Instead of answering, she walked to the other side of the room, grabbed a cloth, and wiped her hands.

Grinding my molars to dust, I strode over to her and took the towel, tossing it aside. “Talk to me.” That was our code, something I said to her when I was on the brink of losing my shit. For whatever reason, she always had it stuck in her head she had to go it alone, bottle her emotions to not concern others. Thing was, that only made me worry more.

After a gale of a sigh, she looked up at me, those baby blues fathomless. Hurt seeped from her right into me. “I’m scared. Daddy forgot to switch the deed into my name and she’s trying to take ownership. She came by, said some things. I don’t know if I should believe her.” As if noticing my tense posture for the first time, she offered a sad smile. “But I’m okay. I promise.”

I nodded once. “What was she like?” Sharon was as much a nonentity in my life as she had been in Summer’s. I’d wondered about her, about what kind of woman could walk out on her kid, but it had been years since I’d thought about it.

Her gaze went heavenward, not out of avoidance, but impatience. “She claimed she wanted to see me, but all she really wanted was the house. What else is there to say?”

Plenty. As if that woman hadn’t hurt my girl enough, she had to add acid to the wound. Instinct had me pulling Summer to me, holding her against my chest. She wrapped her arms around me, a desperate quality emanating from the way she gripped tight. I rested my cheek on top of her head, breathing in the lilac scent of her. “You should have said something sooner.”

“So we both could worry?” She pressed her face into my neck, muffling the words.

Christ, she felt so goddamn good against me. Slow, liquid heat built in my veins. “Yes. Now shut up and accept help. I’m here.”

Leaning back, she inhaled deep. “You’re wet. Is it raining?” Before I could answer, her defenses were rebuilding. “Go home and get dry before you get sick. I’ll come over in a bit. I just have to clean up, take a shower.”

There was no talking to her when she was like this, so I kissed her forehead and headed home.

After a change of clothes, I sat on a chair in my bedroom, thinking about Summer’s mother. Though she hid it well, the little girl in Summer had to be wounded by the rejection. After Sharon finally came home, there would be no more illusions or hope. She didn’t want a relationship with Summer, by the sound of it. I’d like to rip the fool woman’s head off.

What Rick had said earlier about telling Summer how I felt seemed small now. I watched the rain beat against the window, contemplating how I would even go about spilling the truth. The thought of telling Summer I loved her—and not just as a friend—was something I’d played over in my mind too many times to count. I’d imagined a variety of responses from her, knowing the one I wanted would never be a reality. 

She’d think I was crazy or just wanted sex. Oh, I wanted that, too. But she was the one woman I had any desire to make love with, to have children with, and grow old with.

To be honest, I’d never wanted kids until recently. In the back of my mind, I supposed my hesitation always came down to Summer’s students. I’d witnessed the devastation and loss of what a terminal illness could do, and I was pretty certain I couldn’t handle that. But a few years ago, my feelings had changed. What began as sexual interest in Summer as teenagers turned from curiosity to love in our early twenties and into I couldn’t live without her now. She was all I wanted. And I’d give her anything, including the family she desired most.

I sighed, knowing no matter what, we would grow old together as friends if I would just keep my mouth shut. Carry on the same old, same old.

The dark night sky let out a flash of lightning and I frowned. She never could sleep through storms, not since the night her dad died. What a torrent that had been, and every time it rained, she seemed to be reminded of that day. As a girl, she’d loved rain, often danced in it like a fairy, but like so many other things, that had been taken from her, too.

Summer walked into my room moments later, dripping from head to toe, and stopped just inside the doorway. Her hair was drenched with rainwater and meshed against her pale face. Her navy nightgown was stuck to every curve of her as she stood there shivering. Those blue eyes were a deeper, deadly sapphire in the lowlight. Because I was an idiot, I glanced quickly at her nipples, the peaks taut against the cotton fabric.