Page 10 of The Summer Plans

“Looks like you got a little sun.” I stare into her eyes, my hands still wrapped around her waist. Fuck, she feels good in my arms.

“Umm, you can let me go now.” She drops her arms as I release her, shoving my hands in my pockets.

I could’ve sworn there was something still there between us. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I hurt her more than I realized and the thought of being trapped in a house with me for a week is her worst nightmare. How do I fix this?

“Logan, can you tell Lana and Lucas to come in from the porch? And make sure they leave their sandy shoes outside.”

He sulks over to the door. “Okay, but they won’t listen to me.”

She takes a step back. “I should help him. Then I need to start dinner. And at some point, I need to make a list of things to fix and stage some photos for the listing.”

“Are you working this week? I thought this was a vacation,” Logan whines, waiting on her.

I blink at her in confusion. “This house?”

“Yeah, Raven said she wants to sell the place.”

Why would my sister want to sell this place? She inherited several properties when her husband Kristopher passed, and I know it was hard for her to manage everything on her own, but normally she tells me about this kind of stuff.

Summer opens the door, calling her kids who come charging in the house like a herd of elephants.

“I’ll order something,” I shout over the chaos.

She cups a hand to her ear. “What?”

I walk toward the door, stopping several feet from her. “Dinner. It’s on me. Captain Tony said there’s a restaurant in town. We can walk over there, or I’ll get a delivery going so you can get started on your list, if you want.”

“I’m hungry!” Lucas yells.

Lana jumps up, excited. “Can we, Mom?”

Logan frowns, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You know we can’t,” she says to them then looks at me, determination in her eyes. “We’re fine. I had groceries delivered earlier. I’ll just make something.”

“We never get to go out to eat,” Lucas whines as Logan’s shoulders drop and he sneaks out of the room. I can’t help but wonder what that’s about.

I stand there, frozen in place, looking at where Logan disappeared. Summer ushers the other two into the kitchen so I climb the stairs to the bedrooms. The door is closed to the room with the bunk beds, and I knock on it.

“Come in,” a small voice says.

Logan is sprawled, face down on the bed. He looks at me briefly, and I note the moisture around his eyes before he drops his head onto his arms, burying his face into the bed.

I’m no stranger to a crying, upset kid. Raising a teenage daughter is no joke, and I often feel ill-prepared for half of the shit that comes out of her mouth. Taking a seat on the end of the bed, I lean my forearms on my knees, so I don’t bump my head on the top bunk. I don’t say anything since I’m uncertain what to say, and not entirely sure why he ran off.

“We never get to go out to eat and it’s all my fault,” he bursts out, but it’s muffled by his face still buried in the mattress.

“I’m sure that’s not true. What makes you think that?”

A shudder wracks his body as he slowly pushes up to sit, wrapping his arms around his legs, pulling them tight to his chest. The move pushes up his sleeve, revealing an insulin pump. Is that why he feels this way?

“Most restaurants cater to all diets, and diabetes is totally manageable, especially with a device like that.”

“That’s not why.” He doesn’t offer more, and I feel like an ass for putting my foot in my mouth. I’m about to get up and give him some privacy when he speaks. “I’m allergic to eggs too. Like bad allergic, Mom-has-EpiPens kind of allergic. And one time we went to a restaurant and the lady said there was no egg in my food, but she didn’t know that the noodles were made with eggs. My throat swelled up and I couldn’t breathe. Mom said I could’ve died, and she never wanted to go out to eat again. And it’s all my fault.”

Well, fuck. My heart breaks for the kid. “Hey, I’m one hundred percent certain that wasn’t your fault. And I also know that your mom loves you and was probably terrified. I’d be terrified. She probably doesn’t want to go out to eat because she’s scared it’ll happen again, and she doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“Yeah. But sometimes I want to be normal and go out to eat like my friends.”