Page 197 of Summer Love

For seven months now, I’ve made a point of coming to every meeting. I run in the mornings with Summer, I hang around the lodge gym almost every night. My gut’s gone, and I’ve even put on some muscle. I surf with Jace once or twice a week—no particular joy in it, but it’s less of a chore than I remembered.

Seven months since Summer came back. She runs this little tribe without seeming to. It impresses me despite myself.

She’s sitting at the other end of the table, next to Jace—or rather, glued to Jace. Her hand rests on my brother’s left thigh. Neither of them pays it any mind.

Before, Jace would never have let anyone near that leg—not even Mom. Now he wears shorter shorts. When he’s sitting, the fabric stops mid-thigh. The scar’s right there, wide, ragged, paler than the rest of his tanned skin. And Summer’s palm covers half of it.

I’m not in love with her anymore. That’s been settled for a long time.

But seeing them like that, so close, so in love—there’s still a pang in my chest.

Since my depression, there’s been a pane of glass between me and the world. Not for everything. Anger still comes through just fine.

I saw Jace’s therapist a few times this winter. She helped me put words to the hole I’d sunk into. That doesn’t mean I’ve climbed out of it.

So love, honestly…

Whatever. It’s not the most important thing. The only thing that counts is figuring out what I want—or can—do with my life. As plans go, that’s already plenty.

Mom grabs the pitcher and tops everyone off. Maya snags an olive from the bowl in the middle of the table. Kai listens, still, arms crossed. I play with my lighter.

My coveralls gape at the hips; a grease stain still streaks my thigh. I rub at it with my thumb and just smear it.

Lost in her phone, Avery twists one of her blue strands around her finger. Since her last competition, she hasn’t said two sentences to me. Seven years ago she watched Jace fall apart for months. She hasn’t forgotten, and she hasn’t forgiven me. Neither have I, for that matter.

Summer sets a canvas bag I hadn’t noticed on the table and pulls out a stack of folded T-shirts. Deep blue, white logo—the stylized wave she’d drawn for the fundraiser, but reworked, cleaner, and underneath it:

Walker Surf School

Coral Bay, CA

“The new T-shirts came in yesterday!” she announces, beaming.

She starts handing them out. Maya unfolds hers and whistles.

“¡Mira! That’s sick.”

Summer slides one over to me.

“He doesn’t work for the school,” Avery says flatly, not looking up from her screen.

I don’t answer.

“The whole family gets one,” Summer says, right back.

Avery lifts one shoulder.

“Okay, back to it,” Summer says, opening her notebook. “Instagram, 200 more followers last month. TikTok, 8,000 followers since we launched it. And Avery’s video, landing a kickflip on a skateboard balanced on a surfboard, has passed 200,000 views.”

“Cool,” my sister says.

It started as one of Luke’s dumb ideas. He’d tried it, swallowed a bunch of saltwater, and then Avery wanted a shot. She landed it on her second try.

“The site’s been live since April. For the summer sessions, we’re full all of July for the kids and teens; there are a few spots left in August. On the adult side, we’ve got fifteen sign-ups this summer. That’s three times last year’s numbers.”

She talks fast, no arrogance. And she says we. It just happened that way. Nobody handed her a job, she didn’t ask for one. She just started helping, and now she runs the whole business side of the school, without asking for a dime. For Jace and Mom, it’s been a huge relief.

“And the cash flow?” Kai asks.