Love on the Lake (Lakeside 2)

“I really like her,” Dad says when Teagan goes upstairs to change into her bathing suit.

“So do I, but I don’t know if it’s gonna be a long-term thing,” I warn him.

“Why would you say that?”

“I’m not sure how long she’s planning to stay in Pearl Lake or if it’s temporary.” But I know I don’t want it to be. And that’s messing with me. I want her to stick around. The more time I spend with her, the more I want. She’s like an addiction. But far worse, because quitting her would have repercussions that I can’t escape.

He leans on the railing overlooking the putting green. Yes, my dad has a putting green in his backyard. “Can I say something, son, without you getting defensive?”

“You can try. I can’t guarantee you’re going to be successful, though.”

He chuckles. “I know it’s hard for you to let people in, Aaron, and it’s a big step bringing Teagan here to meet us, but at some point I think you’re going to have to stop splitting your life in two. You can’t hide from your past, and you can’t let your past rule your future.”

“I know. I just . . . it’s hard, you know? I want this to work with Teagan, but I’m worried once the truth sets in she’s going to see that I’m a mess and want nothing to do with me.”

“It doesn’t seem likely from where I’m standing, but I think you need to give her a chance, and yourself.” He claps me on the shoulder, his smile a little sad and a lot knowing.

The sound of footfalls coming down the stairs ends the conversation.

I spend the rest of the day watching Teagan work her magic on Lydia, Jamie, and my dad. She’s warm like the sun, effervescent like soda pop, and it’s so easy to imagine what it would be like to fold her into my life, to have her here on Christmas morning, to make her my date for every single event my dad invites me to. And it scares the shit out of me.

At the end of the day Jamie pulls us into his bedroom, where he’s set up a campout. He fights to stay awake when Teagan reads him a story. Once he nods off, we head back downstairs and sit with my dad and Lydia until they’re yawning and apologizing, promising breakfast in the morning before we leave for Pearl Lake.

And then it’s just the two of us and my truth hanging between us like a garlic-scented burp. Impossible to ignore.

“Hi,” Teagan says, voice soft, eyes the same. Her fingertips drift slowly down the side of my neck. “How are you?”

I lift one shoulder and let it fall. “All right. You?”

“Worried about you.”

“I’m not going to freak out,” I tell her. But I’m not sure if that’s entirely true. My head is full, and when I feel like this, I shut down and shut people out. I know this about myself.

“Okay.” She runs her nails up the back of my head, into my hair, and then drags them back down. “I’m so sorry about Devon. That must have been so horrible for you.”

I let my head drop forward. I knew this was coming. That this was a conversation I couldn’t avoid forever. That she would want to talk about it eventually.

“I think the worst part about the whole thing is all the memories I have of finding him like that.” I shake my head and clear my throat. “It overrides everything. All the good memories. And it doesn’t fade. I know people say it does, over time or whatever. But I don’t even have to close my eyes, and I can see his face. I can see exactly what he looked like. It was him, but so, so wrong. He was this horrible gray blue.” I scrub a hand over my face, trying to erase the image in my mind, but it doesn’t do any good. It’s there, and I can’t get it out now. “And like an idiot, I tried to wake him up. He was staring up at the sky, arms spread like he was making fucking snow angels. And the stupid bastard didn’t have the common sense to get his ass inside. And I didn’t have the common sense to tell him his phone didn’t matter.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’d give anything to go back in time and fix it.”

“I’m so sorry you have to carry that with you, Aaron.” She keeps doing that thing with her nails.

It’s soothing, and I don’t want it to be. I don’t want to be soothed. I want to hate myself because that’s what I deserve. Not her. Not this. “I stole him from his family and took them as mine.”

“Oh, baby, no.” Her palm comes to rest against my cheek.