“Fourth of July weekend,” Mom replies.
Just when I thought this couldn’t get any worse.If they hit any problems, that deadline is going to go right out the window.
“That’s when the new owners ofthishouse will be moving in,” Dad explains, waving his beer around the living room that harbors all the best memories I have.Watching movies in our PJs, Gray and Wyatt fighting over the popcorn bowl behind me.Building complicated Lego structures while Dad sat at my side constructing something silly with the scraps.Helping Mom organize the piles of test papers she had to grade for her students.
Unfortunately, there isn’t time to dwell on the past when the future looks so bleak.“That’s not a lot of time to make that house ready to live in.”
“Ethan,” Gray warns.
I stare at him.“What?”
He purses his lips while Dad says, “Our contractor knows about the deadline and says it’s more than enough time.”
“What’s the contractor’s name?”I ask, pulling out my phone.
Dad’s lips press into a tight smile as he shares a look with Mom.Maybe I should keep my mouth shut and play along, but my family means everything to me, and if I think they’ve made a mistake, I’ll say it straight.Screw playing nice and telling people what they want to hear when their safety—and likely their entire life savings—are on the line.
“What’s the name of the contractor, sweetheart?”Dad asks, sounding a touch exasperated.
Mom heads into the kitchen and opens a drawer, pulling out her Rolodex.After flipping through it with her glasses on, she glances up and says, “Quick FixConstruction.”
I google the name on my phone, but I can’t find a website for it at Inner Shores—just a Facebook page that looks hardly used and, hang on—a Reddit article?I tap open the post written by some random person complaining about how shit the company is and that they’ll never use them again.It could be taken as one rant from a disgruntled customer if it weren’t for the line-up of comments from others agreeing that Quick Fix Construction also screwed up their houses and wasted their money.
“Did you research this construction company before you booked it?”I ask.
They both frown like that idea didn’t occur to them.Which of course it didn’t.My parents still use the Yellow Pages, for fuck’s sake, and they always think the best of everyone.
“Shit,” I hiss under my breath, tossing my phone onto the sofa.
“What’s wrong, Ethan?”Dad steps over to me, and I run my eyes over his face, the concern in his brow joining the creases that followed his forty-four years as a high school physics teacher.
“Quick Fix Construction has some really bad reviews.”
Dad lets out a heavy breath and glances at Mom, whose skin has whitened.
“But we can’t afford the other companies we looked at,” she says, and my chest pinches at the disappointment in her voice.This is the woman who spent hours baking birthday cakes shaped like dinosaurs and sewing elaborate costumes for school plays—not only for us but also for kids across the neighborhood.My parents deserve this retirement.They deserve to be happy.
My shoulders lift and fall with a heavy sigh.“You really want this beach house?”
Mom steps close to ruffle my hair.“We do, darling.We’ve felt worn down by the city for a while now.A place like this—it’s our dream.”
I grip my knees over my worn jeans and swallow hard.Because there’s really only one option here.
So much for my long rest, reading Nelson Mandela and eating Cajun chili.
I lift my weary gaze back to Mom and Dad.“I’ll fix up the house for you.”
CHAPTERTWO
CHLOE
I never wantto leave this spot.Seriously, if I could build a house right here on the sloping beach, I would.Is there any better feeling than gritty sand between your toes and the sun on your face?
If there is, I certainly haven’t experienced it.
When my surfboard grows heavy under my weary arm, I turn and jog over to where Willow stretches her long, shapely arms toward the rising sun.
It may only be April, but that girl has way too many freckles to be out here in a sports bra without a healthy layer of SPF protecting her porcelain skin.I set my board beside her turquoise yoga mat, currently the same shade as her hair.Time to fish out that bottle of sea-friendly sunscreen from the bottom of my backpack.When I toss the bottle at her bare feet, she smiles and drops out of her warrior pose to apply the lotion to every inch of skin peeking from beneath her chartreuse yoga set.
