When August Ends

Great. Fuck.

“I can assure you I don’t.”

“How old are you, sir?”

Shit.

I hadn’t wanted to divulge my age, mainly because I knew Heather was so damn intent on knowing it. But I couldn’t lie.

“Thirty-four.”

Heather looked at me, and I knew exactly what she was thinking: that thirty-four wasn’t that old. I’d told her I was old enough to be her father because a part of me wanted her to believe I was older than I am, so she wouldn’t get any ideas.

“Well, that’s too old for Heather, but she seems quite smitten with you.”

Heather looked mortified. “Mom...please.”

But Alice kept going. “The last thing she needs is to be taken for a ride and used by a man passing through town. She’s vulnerable and wears her heart on her sleeve. Unless you plan to stay here in Lake Winnipesaukee, which I highly doubt, I suggest you proceed with caution.”

Heather gritted her teeth. “Stop.”

I needed to nip this in the bud. “I don’t know how many ways I can say it, Mrs. Chadwick—Alice—but I don’t have any romantic intentions toward your daughter. She’s far too young for me. I didn’t come here to make my life more complicated, just the opposite. So your worries are futile.”

She looked at me skeptically for a few seconds. “Well, that’s good, then.”

I needed to get out of here now. Not only was this woman making me completely uncomfortable, but Heather looked ready to cry or explode. The longer I stayed, the worse this situation would get.

“On that note, I want to thank you, Heather, for a very nice dinner. I’m going to take my plate inside to the kitchen and let myself out.”

Uncharacteristically, Heather didn’t protest. In fact, she didn’t say a word. That told me how upset she really was.

As I exited the kitchen and headed toward the door to put my shoes on, I noticed one of them was missing.

What the hell?

From the corner of my eye, I felt Fathead staring at me. Not only that, my shoe was in his mouth.

“Buddy, I need that.”

He growled as I approached. When I held out my hand, he booked it upstairs.

Are you kidding me?

I wasn’t going to chase him, so I decided to leave with one damn shoe on.

As I walked down the driveway, a strange feeling followed me back to the boathouse. And it wasn’t my foot in a muddy, wet sock, either.

It was anger.

I was mad that Heather lived as a virtual prisoner to her mother’s needs. She deserved to live her life, go to college, travel, and do whatever she damn well pleased. This had been going on for a while—since she was a teenager. But more than that, I was mad at myself. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I’d enjoyed sitting outside and talking to her more than I’d enjoyed anything in a really long time.

And that wasn’t part of the freaking plan.CHAPTER FIVE* * *HEATHER“How could you do that to me?” I scolded.

“I’m just trying to protect you,” my mother said.

“By embarrassing the living hell out of me? That man has been nothing but respectful. First, you bail on dinner. Then you scare him away with bullshit.”

“Every word that came out of my mouth is the truth. What does he want with you if he’s leaving at the end of the summer?”

Now I was screaming. “He wants nothing! I already told you he isn’t interested in me that way. Why can’t you understand that? He hasn’t tried a damn thing, and you just made a fool of yourself and me. You’re acting as though I’m a child. I am almost twenty-one years old—an adult. I don’t understand what part of that you don’t get.” I took my plate. “I can’t do this. I need to go to my room.”

“Heather…I’m sorry. I was just—”

“I can’t!” I yelled as I walked away.

My mother was a lot to handle, but I loved her and knew she meant well. She truly believed she was somehow protecting me. But I still couldn’t stand to look at her for the rest of the night.

After I took a shower to calm down, I texted Noah.Heather: I’m sorry. I’m totally mortified.A few seconds later, he responded.Noah: Don’t be.Heather: I’m embarrassed about how she treated you.Noah: You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You didn’t do anything.There was something I really wanted to get off my chest.Heather: You don’t have to feel sorry for me…for my situation. I can tell you do. I have a choice, you know. I could’ve left home. I made the choice to stay.I could see he was typing a response.Noah: I know that.Heather: So…34, huh?Noah: Yes.Heather: That’s not that old.Noah: Still old enough to be your father.Heather: Yeah, if you were 14 when you had me!Noah: Technically possible.Heather: You had me thinking you were in your forties, though I never thought you looked it. This makes more sense.