Page 159 of Summer Love

I clear my throat.

“What’s wrong with the van?”

“No idea. It’s been hard to start for two days. This morning it stalled three times in a row. And it reeks of gas when the engine’s running. Luke’s coming by—I called him.”

He digs his chopsticks into the bowl, stirs the rice.

“Is it bad?”

“No clue. Really not the time,” he sighs.

I don’t answer. Between the PT bills, the school barely breaking even, the gear getting old, and Avery on the circuit, there’s no cushion. You don’t replace an old VW bus for three hundred bucks.

We eat in silence. The wind carries sand up from the beach. Flip gets up, comes over and rests his muzzle on Jace’s thigh, sniffs the poke bowl with pointed interest.

“No,” Jace says without looking at him.

Flip sighs and lies back down.

“I finished the yard,” I tell him.

“All of it?” Jace glances up.

“The hedges, the gate, the back steps. I’ve still got the rental contracts to finalize, a couple of admin things, and after that, I can go home.”

Home. It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud.

“Home?” he repeats.

“New York, yeah. The yard was the last big job. Once the contracts are signed, I can handle the rest remotely.”

Jace sets his bowl on the bench. His hands are still black with grease in the creases of his knuckles.

“What about us?”

He stiffens. The words slipped out.

I look away. The school’s yard is empty—Maya and Kai went to the lodge for lunch. A gull’s perched at the far end of the building’s roof.

“Jace… we need to talk about some things first.”

“About what?”

I take a long breath.

“The bet.”

His jaw tightens.

“Summer… we already talked about this.”

“No. We acted like it was settled. That’s not the same thing.”

He rubs at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. The grease leaves two gray smudges beneath them.

“Can’t we just… move on?”

His voice is tired, a little clipped. He’s already on edge because of the van. And here I am, piling on.