Summer's Edge, page 17
“You really hurt her.” He darts his eyes to Chelsea as if looking for backup.
Chelsea clears her throat. “Actually, the thing is, maybe we’ve all been hurting her. By encouraging this thing with Chase that doesn’t exist. Or even not actively discouraging it. You know what I mean?”
He looks taken aback. “I would never hurt my sister on purpose.”
“Right, not on purpose. But maybe by not being completely clear about how it is.” Chelsea places her cards down. “I fold.”
“You don’t want any cards?” Ryan taps the deck a few times.
“Fine.”
Ryan deals her a card.
“I call,” she says.
He hands me a card. “Kennedy?”
“Raise.” I place a chip down, and Chelsea reluctantly matches it. Crap hand.
“We all pretty much agree Chase isn’t interested, right? I mean, Emily is so special. She’s smart, she’s pretty, she’s unique, she’s talented. Chase appreciates that. There’s just no spark on his end. It’s no one’s fault.” It suddenly occurs to me that what Chelsea is saying sounds suspiciously like a breakup speech. And I’m sitting in the middle of it. I try to catch her eye to signal bad idea, but she’s focused intently on Ryan. I love her to death, but reading the room is not among her strengths.
“Yeah,” Ryan says. “I guess that’s true.”
“False hope is painful,” Chelsea says.
Ryan deals her another card, slowly this time, his eyes trained on the deck. “It is.”
“Shit. I mean, hmm.” She assumes her best poker face, which is terrible. “I call.”
I take my next card. Pair of queens. It isn’t great, but it doesn’t look like she has anything. “Raise you twenty.”
“Twenty? I’m out.” She tosses her cards down, and I show my hand. “Oh, come on. I had three twos.”
Ryan picks up her cards to verify. “Then why did you fold?”
She shrugs. “Kennedy always wins.”
Ryan drops his head into his forearm and laughs, and when he raises his head, his face is flushed. “When did you start thinking you were better than me?” His eyes are bright, almost feverish, as he stares desperately at Chelsea. I feel like I’ve evaporated, an invisible witness.
Chelsea’s mouth drops open in dismay. “I never thought that.”
I scramble to my feet and make a dash for the kitchen. “The dishes,” I mumble incoherently, slamming the doors behind me and collapsing against them, my heart tumbling in my chest. There can’t be another fight now, but I’m human and weak, and I need this to end. I need Ryan and Chelsea to be definitively over, and I need to know it for sure. I press my head against the wall, straining to hear over the sound of my racing heart in my ears.
“We used to laugh at them. Golden boy and gossip girl.” Ryan’s voice is low and difficult to make out. “They have it so easy. They have everything and they still want. I’ve only ever wanted one thing, you know this.” I feel dizzy, like I’m having an out-of-body experience. This is a scene from a movie, but in the movies, it’s a romance, and the guy gets the girl. In real life, it’s horrific. He doesn’t deserve her just because he wants her. She doesn’t want him. It hits me so hard then, how much I’ve tortured myself pointlessly with questions. Whatever happened in the past, she doesn’t want him, she never did—not while we were together. The only time that matters.
“Everyone wants,” she says softly. “It’s human.”
“I love you, Chelsea.” His voice cracks and I close my eyes. This is not happening. Not here. Not now. “You know Kennedy doesn’t get you the way I do. You don’t have to lie to me, because I know you and I love every bit of who you are. You don’t have to live up to any bullshit standard. You’re perfect to me, Chelsea. And you know I would do anything for you. I would. You know all of this is true. And I would never, never let you go.”
“You have to,” she snaps. There’s an awful, gaping silence.
“Please, Chelsea.” His voice goes whisper soft; the house is silent. “You’re the only thing that makes sense anymore.”
“I know it feels that way.” Chelsea’s voice is muffled, and I force myself not to look through the glass pane of the door, but I know his arms are around her, her face pressed into his shoulder. I know she’s holding on to her friendship, afraid that saying the wrong thing will shatter it, and he’s desperate to cling to something else. It hurts to hear.
“Then there’s nothing left for me here,” he says, bitterness saturating every word.
“I’m still here,” she says.
“You are so long gone.” He laughs dully. “I’ve been holding on to a fucking ghost.”
I hear the door slam and peek my head back into the room. Chelsea is still sitting cross-legged on the floor, sobbing into her hands.
“I said nothing to make him believe—”
“I know.” I put an arm around her.
She leans into me. “It was only a few months.” Her voice hitches as she presses her face into my shoulder, and I feel her sob into me, the energy of her sorrow flowing through me like an electric current. “I was sad,” she says, sounding so worn down I want to wrap her in layers of blankets and let her sleep for a week. “And I missed you so much.” Her body relaxes as if the hurt is flowing out. “And he loved me. I still care about him. I should have told you, shouldn’t I? I was so afraid. I couldn’t bury the hope that you and I might get back together.”
“Neither could I.” I kiss her hand. It feels warm and feverish.
“Everyone said if you ever found out, you wouldn’t forgive me.”
I pull back and look at her. “Everyone said that?”
Chelsea pauses for a moment. “Emily.”
Emily.
“Well, she was wrong. I broke up with you. You’re allowed to fall for someone else. If you’d just been honest… I was afraid it wasn’t completely over between you and Ryan.”
“It was. It is. He just can’t let it go.” Her expression darkens.
But before I can answer, there’s a huge splash outside.
The wave of cold crashes over me so quickly, so violently, that for a second I’m stunned speechless.
I close my eyes. “Son of a mother.”
40
I find Mila perched at the end of the dock, her legs dangling down into the water, Chase splashing below. Chelsea hangs back as Ryan towers above, frowning down at him. “Get out.”
I lay a hand on his arm. “I’ve got it. Thanks. Chase, no swimming drunk. House rules.”
He looks up at me with an innocent grin. “You make the rules. You can break the rules.”
“I don’t want to break the rules. The rules exist for a reason.” I give him a meaningful look.
In response, he splashes me in the face. I slowly wipe the water out of my eyes. Mila giggles and I stifle the urge to push her in after Chase. Let them find out for themselves. “It’s not up for debate. Get out or go home.”
“He can’t go home without getting out,” Mila says. “It’s not a fair choice.”
“She has a point, Ken. Give me something to work with.” Chase glides back farther from the dock in a relaxed backstroke. He’s so arrogant. He may be like a brother to me, but he isn’t. It isn’t his house. He doesn’t have the responsibility to make sure everyone is okay all the time. As long as he splashes around like a jerk, I’m obligated to stay out here and babysit him, and really, I’m not in any condition to jump in after him if anything goes wrong. And I am becoming more and more convinced that something is going to go wrong.
“Please just get out,” I say, my temper strained.
“You’re being an asshole, Chase,” Ryan says.
“Stay out of it,” Chelsea whispers.
“Seriously, Ryan. You should rest your mouth. You might sprain your neck again, and we’d have to have you airlifted to the Saint Bullshit Hospital for imaginary injuries.” Chase treads water, watching Ryan. I can’t even believe he started again. Again. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. With anyone.
But instead of going ballistic like I expect him to, Ryan just says, in this calm, eerie voice, “That’s it, Chase.”
Chase doesn’t answer, but he looks uncertain. He’s drunk, really drunk, and I know he’s going to regret everything he’s said tonight. He loves Ryan. I know he does. I don’t know if the feeling is mutual anymore. I don’t know how Ryan feels about any of us. Except my girlfriend.
Chelsea steps between him and the edge of the dock. “Okay. Let’s all take a deep breath.”
It’s difficult to tell if Ryan was already in motion at that point or if he just spontaneously shot forward, but somehow his arms are suddenly on Chelsea’s shoulders, and then she’s in the water. Mila screams and I skid to the edge and reach down to help Chelsea, but when she looks up at me, there’s real, actual terror in her eyes. Not hurt—terror.
My heart leaps into my throat, and my lungs seem to empty as I pull her up.
But she’s okay. He let her go.
“What the hell is wrong with you,” Chase shouts. He cuts through the water and hauls himself up onto the dock.
“I’m so sorry. Chelsea. Chelsea.” Ryan pushes his way toward her, but she turns away from him, shivering. “It was an accident.” He jumps aboard the boat and comes back with a towel. “Here.” Ryan tries to wrap it around Chelsea, but I yank it out of his hands and drape it around her myself, then pull her against me protectively. I am losing control. I cannot protect my friends. This is not supposed to happen.
Chelsea stares at Ryan, wide-eyed. “It was not an accident. You’re different. You’re changing. Chase, you too. I don’t know what’s wrong with everyone. Emily, Kennedy, even you.”
“Oh, and you’re magically exempt?” Mila says.
“You don’t know her.” I eye her coldly. “You don’t get to weigh in.”
Mila climbs onto the boat, finds another towel, and hands it to Chase. “Here.”
Chase shakes himself off like a dog after a swim and then towel-dries himself vigorously. “Say what you want about me—I don’t attack women.”
Mila wanders back to the boat and swings a leg over the side, then another.
“Please get off the boat.” I turn back to Chelsea. “Are you okay?”
She nods shakily. “Yes. I just need to make some tea or something.”
“Okay. The rest of us are going to talk for a moment.”
Chelsea gives me a look. “Don’t make a bigger deal.”
I kiss her hand. “Relax. Seriously. Lavender and chamomile on the top tea shelf. Make a whole pot. I’ll be there in three minutes.”
She smiles. “Three minutes.” She slicks her hair back, casts Ryan an unforgiving look, and heads back into the house.
“Let’s go for a sail,” Mila says.
I ignore her. “Guys, this has to stop. Either we all have to get our shit together or we have to go home. Play nice or go home—those are the rules. And no more rule breaking.” I look from Ryan to Chase. Ryan looks sullen, his face blistered and burned from a day of overexposure.
Chase points to Ryan. “Talk to him. I’m perfectly fine the way things are.”
“I’m not,” I say firmly. “Everything’s been sloping south for a while, but it’s taken a sudden dive. And I’m not okay with it. We only have two more years together. But the way things are going, we’re not going to make it through the summer. Chase, you have to stop it with the passive-aggressive comments toward Ryan. I’m not getting in the middle of your drama, but it’s got to stop.”
Chase side-eyes Ryan. “No drama.”
Ryan presses his lips together. “Mm-hmm.”
I cross my arms. “You’re both terrible liars.”
“Mila’s leaving,” Chase says.
“Good riddance.” I can’t help it.
“No, she’s taking the boat.” He points behind me.
I turn around. “Shit. Mila!”
Mila’s unfurled the sails while we’ve been talking, and a steady wind has begun to move her away from the dock. She waves innocently. “Moonlight sail. You can make it if you jump.”
I stare, aghast. None of this is remotely acceptable. In the best-case scenario, my father would flip out if he found out that Chase’s guest, who for all I know doesn’t even know how to sail, took the boat out by herself. Drunk. In the worst, Mila is heading into the darkness to meet the dripping man alone. I back up, take a running leap, and barely make it onto the deck, sliding into the mast and hitting my head for the second time.
“Shit,” Mila says. “Are you okay?”
I sit, my forehead throbbing. At least I hit a different part of my head. Still, I’ll be lucky if there’s anything left of my brain by morning.
Chase lands on the deck beside me, and Ryan hits the water a moment later. I can’t help a petty grin spreading across my face. Push my girlfriend into the water. Karma. Chase throws him a line and hauls him up.
“Turn around and take us back,” I tell Chase. “We’re not doing this tonight.”
“Pretty pretty please.” Mila jumps up and down and presses herself against Chase, swaying against him. “I want to see the stars.”
“You can see them from the dock.” I massage my forehead. “We all drank way too much to operate a boat. Back it up.”
“Come on. It’s so romantic out here.” She nuzzles up to him.
“Really?” Ryan says in a flat voice. “Is it romantic?” He sits next to me. “How enchanting for all of us.”
I stand, but sway on my feet and have to sit again. “Look, I can’t sail right now. My head is completely messed up. I need a few minutes for it to clear.” But a swift wind has picked up out of nowhere, and we’re rapidly moving toward the middle of the lake. Marvelous.
“Give us ten,” Chase says. “Fair compromise. Mila gets to see the stars, you get to rest your head, and then we go straight back.”
“Please, Mom?” Mila says.
I’m really starting to dislike that girl.
“Fine.” I sigh.
“Really?” Ryan looks back toward the house. “This is the moment you choose to start backing down on things?”
“What’s the rush, Ry?” I tap my forehead gently. Definitely well on its way to a bruise.
“I’m done with this place. I’m done with all of you. The last thing I want is to spend another minute in that house. Or in my own, for that matter.” He goes to the back of the boat and hangs over the edge, trailing his arm into the water.
I look at Chase. “Will you talk to him, please?”
He shrugs uncomfortably. “I don’t think anything good is going to come out of talking right now.” The wind dies a little, and he spins the steering wheel. “Mila, can you take in that line?”
She tugs at the ratchet and succeeds in tightening the sail a little, but not enough. I look up. The telltale has fallen flat. The night air feels misty and heavy, windless. We rock back and forth, drifting a little, but not really catching any wind. There isn’t any to catch. I sigh and bump Mila aside with my hip, straining to tighten the sail as far as I can, but it doesn’t help.
“Drop anchor.” I let the sail down. “Ryan, get your hand out of the water. Everyone, arms and legs inside the boat.”
“Come on,” Ryan groans.
“There’s no wind. We have to wait it out. Probably just a few minutes. Let Mila look at her freaking stars.” I flop down next to him as Mila and Chase snuggle close to each other at the bow of the ship. “Tell me something, Ryan.”
“What’s that?”
“What’s so horrible that you need to get away from?”
He looks down at the water. “Nothing. I’m not running.”
“I never used the word running.” I pause. “I know this has been a shitty year. I’m really sorry, Ryan.”
“I bet.” He shifts so that his face is in profile. “Some people think they’re entitled to everything, don’t they?”
“Like who?”
Ryan shrugs, gazing up at the stars. “Off the top of my head? Chase for one.”
“He’s earned all of it.”
“Has he? He was born athletic, I guess, but he also had years of lacrosse camp. He studies, but he also has expensive tutors. Are those things you can really earn, Kennedy? Or do your parents give them to you?”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “I guess it’s not necessarily earned.”
He glances at me, and I feel the accusation in his eyes cutting right down to my core. “What about people? How do you earn people, Kennedy?”
I rest my head on my hand and study his face. I’ve never paid enough attention to Ryan. He fades into the background too easily. His laid-back posture, his mild expressions, his soft voice. But he’s not mild. He’s sharp and bitter and angry. “You can’t earn people. People like Chase because he’s authentic. Friendly and funny. He’s a people person.”
“No. He’s charismatic. He can be friendly. He can also be manipulative. Just like you, Kennedy.”
“Well, you can be passive-aggressive and sulky and scary, Ryan. I think that can turn people off.”
He smiles. “I guess it would. The nice guys never get the girl.”
I laugh in disbelief. “Are you the nice guy?”
“I think so.”
“Well, I would disagree with you. I think you’ve been a dick today.”
He looks me in the eye. “Why shouldn’t I be? Why should I continue to be a doormat?”
There’s a sudden bang and I turn, startled. Chase and Mila have disappeared. I dash across the deck, heart pounding, before realizing they’ve locked themselves below in the cabin. I kick the door, then sit behind the steering wheel and turn it absently. “You’re not a doormat. You’re just self-centered. You can’t expect someone to love you just because you have feelings for them. That’s not how it works, and it doesn’t make you a nice guy. I know life feels unfair and it seems like some people get all the wins, but there’s no such thing as deserving a person. And you can’t take it out on Chelsea, because she cares about you. Way too much.”
He whips his head up suddenly. “Why? What did she tell you?”
