The Summer We Fell (The Summer, #1)(57)
She’s going to be covering more of the pastor’s duties at church—pretty much every aspect of the job aside from the Sunday sermon—and she needs me at the house to keep an eye on him when I’m not at my internship. She teared up as she explained the situation they’re in. “We don’t own this house. We don’t have anything saved. If things go downhill and they remove the pastor from his position, I don’t know what’s going to become of us.”
It’s Grady she’s worried about. Fucking Grady, always offering to step up, as if he truly cares about the pastor’s recovery and isn’t trying to get himself a fucking job at the end of the year.
I’ve only been able to work evenings and weekends this year, so it’s been an uphill battle to even replenish the money I lost at the end of the summer, and now I might be giving it up entirely.
But the hardest part is that it means…I’m staying.
And I stopped wanting to stay a long time ago.
WHEN DANNY GETS HOME, we meet all the guys at the bar Beck’s mom owns, thirty minutes to the south. Surfing equalized them all, but that disappears when they’re away from the beach. Caleb rolls up in his dad’s Range Rover. Harrison has a Rolex. Fucking twenty-one-years-old and he’s got a Rolex.
And I bet he’d give it up—I bet they’d all give up everything—to be Luke.
“I can’t believe he’s surfing Mavericks,” says Caleb, shaking his head.
“What?” I whisper. My voice is dry, raspy with shock. Mavericks hosts some of the deadliest
waves in the world.
Caleb looks from me to Danny. “You didn’t tell her?”
Danny shakes his head. “No, because it’s stupid. I was hoping he’d change his mind.”
“It’s all set,” argues Caleb. “He’s coming up after New Year’s and we’re gonna drive out to watch. I think he’ll be okay.”
Danny rolls his eyes. “He just started surfing again two years ago.”
It’s what I was thinking too. The difference is that I’m worried sick, but Danny just sounds pissed.
ON THE DAY after New Year’s, Danny and I take the pastor’s truck to a camping area just off the beach, only a few miles south of Mavericks. It’s only the two of us, and the silence is deafening. I’m sick with nerves over both the prospect of seeing Luke and the possibility of him being hurt tomorrow. Plus, there’s not much to say. Danny doesn’t want to hear that I hate the internship, he doesn’t want to hear about my songs.
He breaks the silence by again floating the idea of staying in Rhodes instead of returning to UCSD. “I hate leaving my dad like this. It doesn’t feel right.”
“He’s not putting a lot of effort into getting better,” I reply bluntly.
He nods. “Yeah, maybe but…” He trails off and my stomach sinks. I already know what’s coming because he’s implied some version of this several times. “I feel like I’m being punished for losing my way.”
He’s apologized a thousand times for what he said that night in Fresno, but he’s still blaming me, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of how he acts as if I’m a danger, the way he’s wary even when he hugs me, and of his belief in a punitive God who lashes out for minor transgressions and is supposed to reward him for good behavior by making him the star of the football team.
But I think I’m mostly just tired of us, and I don’t know how to escape it.
When we arrive at the campsite and I climb from the car, Luke is the first person I see. He’s tan though it’s January, in need of a shave as always, and his eyes glow brightly in the dim winter light.
His gaze meets mine and I know he isn’t holding Fresno against me. He probably never was—he was just upset about something he had no right to be upset about, and he didn’t know how to handle it, which I understand completely.
It’s how I felt all summer, after all, watching him walk away at night with a girl who wasn’t me.
“Luke’s first attempt at Mavericks!” Summer shouts, pulling up behind us, summing up in a single sentence why there’s nothing to be excited about at all. Because the word attempt suggests a strong possibility of failure, and failure at Mavericks is likely to be fatal.
We unload the cars and Danny makes a point of setting up a pup tent for the two of us, a bit away from everyone else. Someone mutters, “Lucky bastard”, and jokes are made about how the moaning
tonight will be louder than the waves. Luke’s nostrils flare and he walks away, going to the cliff’s edge to stare at the surf.
I want to join him. I want to ask if he’s scared. But it isn’t my place, and I’d just wind up begging him to reconsider, which is the last thing he needs. I know I can’t change his mind, but I could, perhaps, shake his confidence, and when he does this tomorrow, he’ll need every ounce of confidence he’s got.
Grady and Danny try to get a fire started while Libby unloads coolers and checks her lists. She’s made chicken, pies, and appetizers. I suspect she’s trying to prove what a good little pastor’s wife she’ll be, but it’s been a struggle not to resent her excitement when Luke’s life hangs in the balance.
“Oh, no!” Libby cries, removing a bag from the cooler. “There’s no chicken in here.”