Page 139 of Summer Love

“At least now you know. About the bet⁠—”

“We talked about that too,” I cut in. “It’s settled.”

“So… are you mad at me?” he asks, trying to catch my eye.

“No,” I say. “It’s fine.”

“And Jace? Is he mad at me?”

I stare at him. Why would Jace blame Noah? Jace is the one who made the bet. Noah was just a sixteen-year-old kid who told the truth.

But I don’t want to talk about this anymore. The word bet burns my mouth every time I say it, and the shame is still there, intact under the anger.

“No. It’s fine, Noah.”

He’s about to add something, but I beat him to it.

“Like I said, it’s settled,” I say, sharp.

Noah doesn’t push it. His shoulders loosen and he exhales.

“Jace… does this happen a lot?” I ask. “The pool thing.”

Noah folds his arms on the railing.

“Not as much as it used to. At first, it was constant. He stopped sleeping. He stopped eating. He couldn’t look at a photo of the ocean without it setting off an episode.”

Noah draws a long breath.

“It took him months to get back in the water, even after the PT cleared him. It wasn’t his body that was the problem. It was his head. And when he did go back, it wasn’t because he was better. It was because somebody had to keep the surf school running. Pay the bills. The insurance. The upkeep on the gear. If Jace didn’t go back, the school went under. And without the school, there was nothing left.”

My throat tightens. There’s nothing to say to that.

“And me, like an idiot, I’d have rather we sold the school so I could go to college. I’m a goddamn selfish prick, huh?”

He says it without bitterness, like a plain fact. Which is almost worse.

“No. You’re someone who had a dream and lost it. That’s not the same thing.”

Noah looks down at his hands.

“You’d have made a great doctor,” I add. “Well… you already make a great plumber.”

“Yeah. Instead of healing people, I fix sinks. Real step up.”

“You still save book club nights, though.”

One corner of his mouth lifts. A slightly crooked smile, but a real one.

“You see the way Harper was looking at you Thursday night?” I say.

“Yeah, right.”

“And last night too, at the pool. Before it all went sideways.”

He mutters something I can’t make out, but his ears go red. He stares at his sneakers a little too hard.

“You’re full of it,” he says again.