Page 147 of Summer Love

“No,” he says, not unkindly. “It’s really ugly, Summer.”

I take my foot off his thigh and pull my knees up to my chest.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Jace. It’s what happened to you.”

Just as he opens his mouth to answer, there’s a knock at the door. Three raps—Noah’s rhythm.

I get up, tug the T-shirt down on reflex, and cross the bungalow barefoot.

I open the door. Flip is lying in the doorway. Noah’s behind him, in shorts and a rumpled T-shirt, eyes still puffy with sleep. He’s pulled his sneakers on without socks.

His gaze drops to the Walker Surf School T-shirt, lifts, and travels over my shoulder—to Jace on the edge of the bed, shirtless. Flip gets up, shakes himself off, bolts inside, and jumps onto the mattress.

Noah raises an eyebrow.

“Right. Guess I’m running alone, then.”

“So, have a good night?” Jace says, scratching Flip’s belly.

He winks at Noah, who goes scarlet.

“Fuck off, Jace.”

I clench my fists. That brotherly ease, that locker-room tone... I picture them as teenagers, beers in hand, talking about me like that. Laughing at me.

I can’t stomach it.

“You coming with me, big guy?” Noah calls.

Flip wags his tail and lifts his nose toward Jace.

“Go on,” he says. “Don’t run him into the ground, and bring him back in one piece.”

Flip jumps off the bed and darts between Noah’s legs. Noah rolls his eyes.

“I’ll take him back to the school.”

“Okay,” Jace says.

Noah sets off at a jog, Flip on his heels. I close the door.

Jace stands, still a little stiff. He picks his T-shirt up off the floor, pulls it on, scans for his flip-flops.

“I gotta get going.”

“Now?”

The word comes out too fast.

“I’m heading to Santa Cruz,” he says, grabbing one from under the bed. “Junior Surf Contest. I’m taking two of my students. Avery’s competing too. My mom’s already up there with her—I’ll meet them there.”

“When do you get back?”

“Tuesday afternoon. With Avery and my mom.”

Tuesday. Two days.

“See you Tuesday night?” I say, casual.