“When you’re ready,” Mom says, “I’m here.”
“You’re going to get mad.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then disappointed.”
She sighs and leans on her elbow. We’re on my bed and I’ve been crying for so long that there’s nothing left. Just exhaustion. “Summer, I can’t help you unless you talk to me. Who was that man?”
She called him a man, and that’s the first problem with this whole thing. I’d been playing games out of my league and it’d finally caught up to me. “I was dating him,” I confess.
“He seems a little old.”
I can’t tell her the rest. I just can’t. It’s too humiliating. And if she goes to the school…I can’t handle all this being dragged out again.
“Did he…did you…” I know what she wants to ask. It’s what Catherine had asked me. And Irene. That’s what this boils down to, isn’t it? This man having sex with a teenager. A student.
“We were close,” I tell her—protecting him for some inane reason. “But he broke it off at the end the school year. It’s why I backed out of the trip and why I came with you here.”
She steadies herself. My mother asks questions for a living. She investigates, but at this moment she’s at a loss for words. “Did he…did he hurt you?”
Fat, traitorous tears fell down my cheeks. “No. I mean…I thought I loved him, you know? Turns out I was just dumb.”
“You’re not dumb. Men and hormones and all that other stuff make us do stupid things.”
I fall into her arms and we hug, because wow, how lucky was I to have a mom that got it. Got me. Maybe we could get past all of this while we’re here. Maybe this little slice of beach had the ability to heal old wounds.
“I’m here for you when you’re ready to tell me the whole story.”
“Thank you.” I wipe away my tears and say, “I think I’m going outside for some air.”
I step into the night, the lightning bugs and crickets in full song, and pause when I hear the strains of music coming off the small dock over the waterway. The music is warm, simple, and curiosity tugs at me and I walk closer. The water laps against the pilings and the faint lights around the railing cast a glow over the musician.
Pete sits on a small bench, knee up, weaving a beautiful tune on his guitar. I stand beneath a tree, tucked away in the shadows, and watch his nimble fingers run up and down the chords. There’s a confidence, an ease I haven’t quite seen from him. Pete surfs with the others but he’s not a force in the water like Whit or Justin. He doesn’t have the brute strength or quiet intensity of Nick. He’s goofy. Fun, but right now, holding the neck of the guitar with such grace…a chill runs down my spine. I imagine his fingers running over my skin with the same dedication.
As the music builds, I hold my breath. It’s like I’ve walked into something magical and the lure of his skill, his hands…his fingers, draws me closer.
Pete looks up, eyes sweeping over me. I have little doubt he’s out here waiting for me. His fingers come to a slow and he leans the guitar against the bench before standing. We step into one another’s orbit. His arms fling around me, pulling me into the warmest, tightest embrace.
I sink in.
“Tell me you’re okay,” he whispers in my ear.
“I’m fine.”
He pulls back and skepticism rules his expression. “Who the hell was that guy?”
“No one. Nothing.” I look into his gray eyes. “Thank you for waiting out here. You didn’t have to.”
“Yeah, I did. I wanted to make sure he didn’t come back. I also wanted to make sure you were okay.”
His arms feel like a life preserver.
“I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m a good listener. And I know a piece of shit when I see one. That guy,” he says, “is a grade-A piece of shit. When you’re ready to talk about him, I’m ready to listen. No judgments. Trust me, I’ve made my share of mistakes.”
“I just feel so stupid. I gave him…” I swallow, “everything.”
“No,” he says, cupping my chin in his hands. His thumbs wipe away my tears. “That’s bullshit. You didn’t give him everything. Sure, he may have taken something from you but you’re not finite, Summer. You’re here.” He taps my chest, my heart, with his finger. “Your heart is here. Your mind. Your body. You’re not tethered to your past.”