Be the mature, smart, kindhearted Blackthorn son I’m not.
One more reason why the summers in Maine are never long enough. Except now Gramps is on my back, trying to get me to join the family business.
Tying me down with his legacy, even if it’s better than anything my parents offer.
Bullshit.
I shrug, rolling my shoulders before I slump down on the warm dock. I idly trail the toe of one shoe through the water until I feel the sting.
“Shit!”
A sliver of wood jams itself up my fingernail and I yank it out, watching as blood wells in a rusty red bead.
Human frailty.
Pain.
Something real.
Isn’t that what I want most?
Even if it means signing up for the US Army. Beside me, the glossy recruitment pamphlets stare up at me, and I pick one up, flicking through it.
Joining up means escaping family hell, all the people determined to decide my destiny for me.
Maybe at boot camp, I’ll get a fucking break from everyone pecking my head for favors and obligations and expectations.
It’s exhausting when everyone looks at you and just sees whatever future they have planned.
They never see me.
Even Gramps, who’s always had my back, keeps trying to shoehorn me into a winter internship I have no interest in.
Pushing paper in his office, working for him, trying to develop an appetite for charming people in suits into giving up property for cheap.
I get it. He’s old, he has a giant legacy with no one else to leave it to, and my parents barely speak to him.
Still, it’s my life, and he’ll be the first to agree I shouldn’t live in anyone’s shadow.
Also, isn’t this like nepotism or some shit?
Sometimes, it doesn’t feel like the life I’m living is even real.
Why does it matter so much what I decide to do? The whole family could throw their money in a bonfire and burn it for heat all winter.
The sun’s almost dipped below the horizon when I hear the slap of flip-flops approaching behind me. I’m expecting Margot, the little brat wanting to bum some extra cash for ice cream, but when I turn around it’s another goddamned nuisance.
Taylor Rollins.
Shit, can’t she take a hint?
And why didn’t Hardass Holden do his job and keep her off the property?
I sigh before she even opens her mouth.
Back in June, when I came here after graduation, we hooked up a few times. I took her out on the mandatory dinners and beach dates that never lasted more than a couple hours before I fucked her and sent her home.
I guess you could call it a summer fling, until I got bored like usual.
