Page 72 of Summer Love

The dog doesn’t move. I head back to the school.

CHAPTER 24

Jace

SATURDAY

The Hayes house has been silent since this morning.

No sander. No hammer. No music blasting. Nothing drilling into my skull while I try to work.

At seven, heading out of the trailer, I glanced at the house. Shutters closed. At noon, while I was rinsing the wetsuits, same thing. Now it’s almost three, I’m finishing up the boards, and I look again: still nothing.

Maybe she gave up. Maybe she drove all the way to San Francisco and caught a flight back to New York.

It pisses me off—which makes no sense.

I should be relieved. Quiet is what I’ve wanted since Monday.

I rinse the last board and set it on the rack. Then I pull on a T-shirt and a pair of flip-flops. I need wax. Kai’s keeping an eye on Flip, asleep against the shack, in the shade, nose tucked between his paws.

Coral Bay Market reeks of fish. Luke catches my eye.

“Tuna came in,” he says, like that explains everything.

I shrug.

“Bad surf session, or just a bad mood for no reason?” he adds with a wink.

I grunt and lay my hands flat on the counter.

“I need wax.”

Luke smiles—he’s not buying it.

“Help yourself.”

I reach for the little surf display at the end of the counter. The bars of wax are stacked by color, between the wax combs and zinc sunscreen sticks. I grab six purple, six green, and stuff them into a paper bag.

Luke watches me, doesn’t move.

“It’s the neighbor, huh?”

“I’ve got twelve,” I say, setting a bill on the counter.

He raises his hands, laughing.

“Okay, okay!”

He gives me my change. Neither of us adds anything.

Outside, Main Street bakes in the three o’clock light. The jacarandas have lost almost all their blossoms; only a few smudges of mauve are left between the palms. It smells like hot tar and the ocean.

I take two steps... and freeze.

Thirty feet away, Summer’s taping a poster to a pole, up on her toes, a roll of clear tape around her wrist. She’s wearing jean shorts, a white tank top, her hair pulled up in a loose bun held in place with a pen.

Her calves are taut. The tank rides up a little on her back.