HAVING A GAME at noon means not being able to focus on any assignments afterwards. It also doesn’t help when there’s a knock at my bedroom door.
“Busy,” I call out.
I’ve already sat through Kian’s thorough tattoo tour. The new one on his thigh is an intricate red snake. It was cool until he went on a long tangent. We’re going easy on him since he and Cassie fizzled after talking for a few weeks. Unsurprisingly, he was in it a lot deeper into it than her. Now, managing to get him out of my room long enough to write this paper has been a chore.
When the knocking doesn’t stop, I let out a resigned breath, pushing back my chair and swinging open my door.
“I said I’m bu—” Before I can finish my sentence, arms wrap around me, and a head of brown hair burrows into my chest. Frozen in place, I’m surrounded by her sweet scent and her trembling rain-damp body.
“Summer?” She sniffles and my heart cracks in two. I rub her back, feeling her sobs become more frequent.
“Come,” I close the door, and she lets me lead her to my bed. She’s still shaking. “You’re scaring me, baby. What’s wrong?”
When we sit, I pull her head away from my chest, and the sight of her wet cheeks is a rusty knife to my gut. “Is it Langston?”
She shakes her head as I brush her hair away from her face. I think for a minute. “Your dad?”
Her bottom lip quivers. Then she does it again—that thing where she notices my concern, and becomes a vault. She pulls away, sitting stiffly as she wipes her flowing tears. “I don’t know why I came here.” She sees my open laptop and textbook. “You’re obviously busy.”
“I’m never too busy for you.”
Drowning brown eyes search my face before she exhales a deep breath, standing to pace by my bed. “How many times can you beg someone to
love you?”
The heavy weight on my chest grows, making it hard to breathe. I follow, wrapping her in my arms again.
“It’s the one thing a parent is supposed to do. The only thing he had to do.” Her words muffle in my shirt.
“He does, Summer. It would be impossible not to.”
“But why is it according to his timeline? When he’s ready, I have to accept him with open arms as if my happiness depends on his willingness.” She sobs again. “It’s not fair.”
“I know, baby.” I rub her back, letting her cry it out. “I know.”
She inhales a broken breath. “I told myself I’d never get there again. I thought I was over it. But one fucking talk with him, and it hurts the same.” Everything in me wants to run into action mode. To figure out how to help and make the tears stop flowing. Her puffy eyes and tiny red nose prick at me, and I have the urge to call her dad. Which is something I never thought I’d do because Lukas Preston, as much of an inspiration as he is, is
one scary motherfucker.
Not wanting to self-insert, I opt for just listening to her.
Summer aggressively wipes her cheeks. “I feel so stupid for crying about this.”
“Don’t.” I hand her a tissue. “It’s been so long, you’re bound to have a reaction.”
She wipes her eyes, and her expression turns regretful. “I think I might have said too much. He looked really hurt, Aiden.”
“And what I’m seeing right now is that you’re really hurt. That’s not okay, Summer. You don’t deserve to be treated like this, and I won’t let you feel bad for finally saying what’s on your mind. Tell me you understand that.”
Her eyes drop to my chest, and she toys with the strings of my hoodie.
I lift her chin, not letting her get away with taking the blame for this. “He hurt you, and for the first time, you didn’t bottle it up. Be proud of yourself because I am.”
She blinks away a tear. “I am, and I know it was right for me. But I can still feel bad about it.”
This girl is fucking sunshine embodied, and she has no clue. “Of course you can. It’s who you are. You’re kind and compassionate. And a little stubborn.”
She hiccups and hits my chest, only to have tears follow immediately after.
“Come on, I’ll make you some tea, and then we can lie down.”
LAST WINTER ELI’S family invited me on their annual trip to Whistler. The Westbrooks own a cabin up north that can accommodate a small village. We did every winter-related activity up there, including hockey on the secluded frozen pond and helicopter excursions. But the most memorable—and terrifying—part of that trip was The Coffin Ski Run which felt like plummeting into an unknown abyss at sixty miles an hour.
That’s how it feels to hold Summer in my arms.
She fell asleep a few hours ago after fighting her hardest to stay awake. We talked about everything from our first pet—hers, a goldfish named Iggy, and mine, a cat named Benji—to our life’s philosophy, which wasn’t that concise considering one of us was half asleep. Pins jammed my chest at the sight of her droopy eyes and slurred responses, as she tried her absolute damnedest to stay up because she said she liked the sound of my voice.
I don’t think she meant to say it, or that she would have ever said it if she was fully conscious. But I know it’s the truth and damn, does it feel good. I’ll be her white noise machine as long as I live if that’s what she wants.
The terrifying feeling, though—that’s what keeps me wide awake. Because just before Summer knocked out, she whispered, “I forgot how much you feel like home.”
Home. She thinks I feel like home.
There’s no way I can sleep after that. Summer trusts me. She doesn’t trust a lot of people, so the pressure feels like I might collapse beneath it. Which is uncharacteristic of me, because I’m used to pressure. I’m the fucking captain for Christ’s sake. The entire school relies on me. Everyone relies on me. But this feels different.
She snuggles closer, and the movements stirs her awake. I don’t bother pretending like I’m sleeping. I’ve pretty much surpassed the creepy stalker territory in her head. When she tries to move away, I don’t let her. “Don’t go.”
She shifts to meet my eyes. “I’m just going to the bathroom.”
My breath of relief has her studying the reaction. Summer’s never stayed over long enough for me to see her face in the morning. I once thought handcuffs could keep her here but knowing her she’d break my headboard before she’d oblige. It’s like trying to cage a butterfly in an open field.
She may think I’m some clingy weirdo, but letting her be more than a few feet away from me right now feels so utterly wrong I’m willing to look desperate.
My hand glides across her cheek. Everything about her feels like it’s one in a million. Being able to be this close to her makes me feel like I’m one in a million. “You’re so beautiful.”
Her breath catches and with a kiss to her temple, I loosen my hold. She rolls off the bed and straight into my bathroom.
I hear a muffled, “Oh my god!” from the opposite side of the door. Then Summer peeks her head out of the bathroom. “You could have told me I look like a raccoon!” She points to the smudged mascara that paints her under eyes.
She looks so fucking radiant standing there with messy hair and my T- shirt on, I can’t help but smile. “You’re so beautiful, Summer,” I say again. All that gets me is an eye roll and a door slam.
Laughing, I text Eli to see what he’s made for dinner. He could seriously attend culinary school with how much he enjoys cooking.
Eli
Eli: Two pans of baked ziti tonight. As per our child’s request.
Aiden: Kian’s still sulking over Cassie?
Eli: Poor kid saw her on a date with Julia Romero. An ice skater.
Eli: He’s been listening to Folklore on repeat, and watching The Cutting Edge.
Aiden: I know, I can hear it from across the hall.
Aiden: I’ll be down for dinner later then.
Eli: Safest option, you don’t wanna risk running into him. I’ll leave yours in the oven.
Eli: More than enough for your girlfriend, too.
I ignore that message, and Summer comes out. As if going to the bathroom popped our comfortable bubble because she stands there awkwardly.
I drop my phone on the nightstand and hold up the comforter. “Come here.”
She does. Crawling back into place like she never left. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” she whispers, burying her head between my neck and shoulder. “I think I’ve drained all my energy from crying.”
“Stay here tonight.” The offer makes her stiff. The only sounds between us are my heartbeat and Kian’s music. There is no reason for her to leave tonight, and I was serious when I said it felt wrong to let her go. “I know you can take care of yourself, but let me do it. Just this once.”
I need to feel useful for her. Summer likes to carry all her problems under a heavy rain cloud.
“I don’t know…”
“Yes, you do,” I say, lifting her chin to hold her pensive eyes. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
She nods.
