Justin leads me through the side yard and down a stone-lined path. We pass a patio and outdoor fireplace and I stop, staring at the house from the side facing the water. “Hey, this is the house we saw from the boat the other day? That’s the tree house.” I point to the huge tree with branches over the water, “You talked about hanging a swing under.”
“Yeah, Richard won’t let me put a swing up there. I’m not sure why.”
“Maybe because you aren’t eight?”
“Some may disagree,” he says, smiling devilishly. “Don’t worry; I plan on wearing him down. Eventually.”
We’re at the edge of the dock now and Justin leans against the rail, facing the water. His shirt is dirty with grease from the boat and his navy blue board shorts skim the edge of his knees. He’s cute and funny and I want to know more about him.
“So why do you live here?”
He looks out at the water and I feel his thumb graze over my hand. He says, “He took me in when I was fifteen. After both of my parents split.”
“Split? Like broke up?”
“Left. My dad left when I was a kid. My mom stuck around for a while longer but in the end, she bolted, too. Bobby wasn’t mature enough to handle me on his own so Richard let me stay here.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. That must’ve been really hard.”
He lifts his shoulders as though it’s no big deal. “It is what it is, and Richard has been great. He helped me get in school and gave me the job at the marina. Plus, I get to live in my awesome cottage.”
The sun has completely dropped into the horizon and the sky darkens. I tighten my grip on his hand and take a breath. “My dad left when I was eight. After my mother’s fourth book. He didn’t want to be the husband of Julia Barnes, author.”
Justin tilts his head. “Do you still see him?”
“Not really,” I say. “He has a new wife and two kids. The last I heard from him was when he sent me a check for graduation.”
He snorts. “What jerks.”
“Guys are kind of like that,” I say.
He cuts his eyes at me and frowns. “Not all guys.” He means it—or so he thinks, and maybe it’s true, but in my recent experience, guys kind of suck.
“I should go,” I tell him and I try to tug my hand from his but he holds tight. As we walk back the crickets start chirping, making a low hum against the small waves coming from the water. The vibe between us is awkward, so I ask, “Hey, what did you mean by an awesome cottage?”
This earns me a smile and he points past the patio, on the other side of the fireplace chimney. I see it: a small carriage house. “That’s it.”
“You live there?”
“Since I turned eighteen. Richard and I agreed we both could use some privacy. Lucky for me, he had a guest house fully furnished.”
“What, to bring girls home?”
“Hey, he’s single, too. It just worked out better for us both to have some space.” He stops abruptly. “Do you want to go in?”
I glance over at the small cottage. It’s bigger than my camper, which adds allure since I’ve been confined to such small quarters for a couple of weeks. Again, the mood between us changes, no longer awkward but a different type of tension. Tense with a heavy coil of energy linking between us. I can still feel Pete’s lips on mine and I push past the lump in my throat to confess, “I kissed Pete on the sandbar.”
His expression doesn’t change but he says, “Okay.”
“I know about your pact—the no girlfriend pack.”
He watches me closely. “You’ve done your homework.”
“And I just…Anita thinks I need a summer of fun—to get past some drama I left back home.”
“Summer’s summer of fun,” he mumbles, but he’s not mad. He’s still with me, hanging on every word.
“I know things were going good between us and I didn’t want it to get awkward. Or to hide anything…”
