Page 27 of The Summer of Us

His voice was familiar. I narrowed my eyes, taking in his brown hair and light blue eyes. The small scar beside the right one. I recognized it because I gave him the cut that caused the scar. We were playing soccer, and I fell, my cleat catching the corner of his eye. There was a lot of blood, and he punched me, giving me a split lip. We were both ejected from the game.

Recognition hit me, and a smile cracked my lips.

“Michael Hall. What the hell are you doing here?”

Michael had been one of the few people I had liked at school. I’d considered him a friend—at least as much as I’d considered anyone outside Sunny a friend. We weren’t close, but we respected each other and were in a lot of the same classes and sporting events. He knew about Sunny and me, his girlfriend someone Sunny trusted and had confided in, but he never let on about us. He allowed us our privacy, seeming to understand the reason for it.

He was always easygoing, cheerful, and more than once showed what a good guy he was by walking Sunny home when my father interfered with our plans, or even letting me know if she needed me. He had worked at the dry cleaner next door to the diner, and one memory stood out for me of his thoughtfulness.

I had been sitting in my usual booth at the diner, eating, talking with Sunny during her breaks, when the bell over the door jangled. It was getting late, and the diner was mostly empty, so I was surprised when Michael rushed in, heading straight toward me.

“Your dad is looking for you. I heard him asking people if they had seen you.” He glanced toward Sunny. “He’s in a foul mood, Linc. You might not want him finding you here.”

I stood. “Shit.”

“Go out the back door. Leave your stuff. I’ll pretend it’s mine, and I’ll cover you and make sure Sunny gets home. Go.”

Sunny gripped the cloth she was holding. “Go,” she urged.

I ran through the kitchen and out the back door. I didn’t stop running until I got to the house. I tore up the stairs and flung myself in bed, remembering to pull off my shirt that smelled of the diner before diving under the covers.

I heard the sound of my father’s car, then the front door opening, and his voice bellowing my name as he came up the stairs. My bedroom door flew open so hard it hit the wall, and I pretended to be jolted out of a deep sleep and sat up, startled.

“What the hell?”

My father crossed the room, anger pouring off his body. “Where have you been?”

“Here.” I managed a yawn and scratched my head, hoping to look sleepy and that he couldn’t hear my accelerated heartbeat. “What’s going on?”

He leaned down, his breath laced with scotch. “I heard you didn’t make captain of the soccer team. I told you to make it happen.”

“I told you I’m not good enough.” The truth was I hated playing soccer and only did it to pacify him. I was glad to be passed up.

He narrowed his eyes. “If I tell you to do something, you make it happen.”

“I tried. Jason is a better player. A better leader. I can’t compete with his ability.” I pointed out. “It was the coach’s decision. Not mine.”

“I’m taking your car away for a month. You can fucking walk. In fact, you had better run. I want ten pounds off you. And you’re grounded for the next two weeks.”

I bit back my retort. My car, I could live without. The grounding was harder to handle, although given his schedule, I could slip out at times if I wanted. It was better than being punished by his fists.

“You’ll be captain next year, or there will be consequences.”

I knew better than to argue with him. I had gotten off lightly this time.

But I should have known better. My father straightened and I relaxed. Then he punched me in the stomach so hard, I began heaving immediately. I hadn’t even seen it coming. The milk shake I had drunk at the diner came up, spewing white all over my bed.

He eyed me with disdain. “Clean it up. Leave your car keys on my desk in the morning.” He paused at the door. “And your little slut of a waitress was hanging all over some asswipe in the diner. Didn’t take her long to set her sights on someone else.” His tone was mocking. “Not that you’re much of a catch either. Without my money, you’re nothing.”

Then he walked out.

I kept my arm around my stomach as I got up, knowing that if Michael hadn’t warned me and my father had found me in the diner, I would have been in far worse pain. I hated the thought that Sunny obviously played up Michael being there, but I knew she had done it to take the heat off of me.

I wasn’t sure why Michael had stepped in and helped, but I had never forgotten his empathy.

I grasped his hand, returning his grip. “How are you?”

“Good, Linc. I’m good. What are you doing in town?” His gaze moved to Sunny then back to me. “Or should I leave that well enough alone?”