Page 195 of Summer Love

“You work here, but you still sleep in your trailer,” I say.

He leans against the counter, shrugs one shoulder.

“I wanted to wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“You.”

He says it like it’s obvious.

I move closer and put my hand on his chest. His skin is cold.

“Show me the rest,” I say.

Downstairs, there’s also a bathroom and two bedrooms. The first is Avery’s—the smallest. Posters of pro surfers cover the walls. On the dresser, an old framed photo—Tom and Maggie in the water, on the same board. A wetsuit hangs over the back of a chair. No mess. Avery’s on the road a lot. When she comes home, she barely has time to drop her stuff.

The second is a guest room. Double bed, off-white bedspread, not a single personal touch.

“I’d set it up for my mom,” Jace says.

“...who’s not coming.”

“Nope. Luke’s mom insisted on putting her up in the nonna’s room—she died two years ago. Nobody’d touched it since. ‘We had a spare room, it was ridiculous for her to pay rent somewhere else,’” Jace says, doing the Italian accent—badly.

I snort a laugh.

“Mostly Mrs. DeLuca took pity. Maggie never would’ve survived sharing a place with six young people...”

“Mom did look relieved, yeah. But she has dinner with us two or three times a week, when she’s not on the circuit with Avery. Noah comes by sometimes too.”

“He could’ve been one of the housemates. I told him I wouldn’t make him pay rent.”

“He says sleeping at the lodge is easier.” Jace doesn’t sound convinced.

“I hope he changes his mind. In the meantime, we’ve got a guest room.”

I brush my hand over the bedspread.

“Elena texted that she’d try to come for Thanksgiving, if she doesn’t have a competition then.”

“Seriously? That’s great!”

“I can’t believe you reached out to her,” I say, quieter.

“I did the right thing, didn’t I?”

“You have no idea...”

Jace pulls me upstairs. The staircase creaks—the same steps as before.

At the top, four closed doors—a bathroom and three bedrooms. Jace names them as we pass—Maya, Kai... and us, at the end of the hall.

Farther on, a narrow, steep staircase climbs to the attic. Miles has his room up there, with a tiny bathroom.

The door to our room is ajar; I push it open gently.

Flip is asleep on the bed. He opens one eye, spots me, springs up, and jumps on me. He plants his paws on my shoulders and licks my chin, whining.