Page 36 of The Summer of Us

Linc holding another woman. Soothing her. The way his long-fingered hands drifted up and down her back in comforting, familiar touches. His voice crooning to her.

There was history. A lot of it. She meant something to him.

A voice in my head told me that was why he said he wanted me to call. He didn’t ask me to come to the house. But once I finished with my supplier, and closed the shop, I wanted to see him. I looked at the bag I had dropped by my door when I’d arrived home, breathless, upset, and tearful.

Biscuits. I had made him an extra batch of fresh biscuits, and I planned on giving them to him with tubs of jam and butter. I wanted him to eat them in his father’s den. Let the crumbs fall on the expensive rug and not clean them up. Do something silly and make him laugh in a room that had only every brought him fear.

My gaze fell to the pile of letters. Ones that had hurt me to read yet brought me a glimmer of hope that perhaps my future might look different from what it had the day before. That maybe Linc might once again be part of my life.

Now, I couldn’t stand to look at them.

I couldn’t take the apartment anymore. I needed to get out before I let my emotions swamp me. Despite what I knew the place now meant, there was only one spot I could think to go and clear my head.

I grabbed my coat, shutting the door and leaving the letters, the biscuits, and my hopes behind.

* * *

The wind kicked off the waves, lifting my hair off my neck. I stared out at the cove, the constant motion of the water soothing. It always had been. Whenever I was upset, worried, or my sisters were driving me to distraction, I would escape to this place. Eventually, I shared it with Linc and it became our place, but once he was gone, I still went there. It had been my spot first. I refused to let him take that away from me too.

Despite all the development around the town, this little spot had never changed—the land around it the same as it had been for years. The land adjacent to it, the deserted area Linc and I would meet up in was now a park loved by the community and, as Linc confirmed, named after me. But this place remained the same. Idly, I wondered if Linc had anything to do with it, then dismissed the thought. I’d come here to escape him. To let the sound of the waves and wind clear my head. I built a fire, having learned how to do it myself over the years once I started coming here alone again. I kept a small pile of wood and some waterproof matches tucked under the edge of the rock. I knew one day I would come here and find it gone. Discovered by teenagers or sold and used as part of a development, but for now, it was still my spot.

I sat beside the small fire, poking the flames, watching them dance in the dark, chasing away the chill as night descended and the stars came out. I huddled close, my knees drawn to my chest, and with a sigh, I laid my head on top of them, feeling the emotion of the day catch up with me. Tears drifted down my cheeks, and I allowed them to fall, knowing I needed to clear them from my system. Tomorrow, I would face the day and be strong, but for now I had to let it out.

Linc, the past, the letters, today, the woman he was holding…it all was too much. My head ached with too many thoughts, and my heart yearned for something I didn’t think I could have. Tears dripped down my face, soaking into the fabric of my pants. I didn’t bother trying to stop them.

The back of my neck prickled, and the sound of the rocks moving under heavy footsteps startled me. In all the years I had been coming here, no one else had ever shown up, except one person. I didn’t have to look to know who it was. My body always knew when Linc was close. That hadn’t changed.

“Please go,” I pleaded. “I can’t, Linc. Not tonight. Tell me your excuses another time. Just leave me alone.”

He sat beside me, his warmth beckoning, his scent drifting around me. He still smelled like home, even after all these years. Ocean, cedar, and something pure Linc.

“I can’t,” he stated simply.

I refused to look at him, not wanting him to see the tears, or see the vulnerability he had somehow brought back out in me. I had worked for years never to show weakness to anyone again—to be a tough business owner, a capable daughter and sister, a trustworthy friend. But I refuse to care too much about anyone outside the people I considered my trusted circle. If I was being honest with myself, I even held back parts of me from them. The part that had been torn away from me the day Linc disappeared—the same part that seemed to have reemerged when he walked into my bakery.

“Please,” I repeated.

“Not until you hear what I have to say. If you still want me to go, I will.”

His voice was low—determined. I turned my head, meeting his gaze. His eyes were dim, worried, and grief-stricken. He gasped when he saw my face, reaching out his shaking hand.

“No, Sunny. I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong.”

“You know that woman—you’ve known her a long time.”

“Yes.”

“You’re close.”

He ran a hand over his face. “Not the way you think.”

“You love her,” I stated.

He didn’t deny it. “Yes. I love her. She’s been my best friend for more than nine years, Sunny. If it weren’t for her, I’m not sure I’d be sitting here with you right now.”

A tear dripped off my nose. Linc bent close, wiping the wetness away from my skin with his fingers, making soft sounds. “Please, Sunny-girl. Let me explain. I know you don’t owe me anything and I know how it looked when you came in, but please, god please, listen to me.” He moved his fingers faster as the tears came harder. “Tell me I haven’t lost you all over again.”

It was the break in his voice, the catch, that hit me. He sounded as if he was in the same agony I was sinking into.