The Summer We Fell (The Summer, #1)

by Elizabeth O'Roark

“Luke will be there. And he’ll still feel like the tide, sucking you out to sea.”

Luke is already in my bloodstream, already poisoning me. Making me want all the wrong things, just like he always did.

It’s funny, the way you get what you want and just start wanting something else.

I want to explain there’s something hard in Luke’s face when he looks at me, something that isn’t there when he looks at everyone else, but I’ll sound crazy if I keep arguing this. I just choose to hope, instead, that he decides to leave once the weekend is through.

Once again, he reminds me of a tiger, but this time it’s one who’s just spotted prey. The wave in the distance begins to thicken and swell. Luke flattens on his stomach and paddles hard, his broad shoulders in continuous motion as a wall of water forms behind him.

“Go fuck yourself,” I reply under my breath. His eyes lighten and his mouth twitches. “There she is,” he says, only for me to hear. “I knew she was in there somewhere.”

“I didn’t think it was possible, but the two of you are fighting even more now than you did when you were younger.”

Sometimes it’s simply a relief to be with a guy who treats you like the piece of shit you already know you are. It’s a relief not to have to pretend otherwise.

I want something I’m not supposed to want.

“If you even breathe in her vicinity again, I’ll fucking kill you and I won’t think twice. I’ll beat you until you can’t fight back, then I’ll hold you under water until you’ve taken your last breath. That’s a promise.”

With Luke gone, though, everything is better. I’m not the third wheel. I don’t feel fake and conspicuous when I help Donna around the house, and I’m capable of at least trying to see the world the way she does, finding comfort in the small joys: a crisp winter night, a roaring fire, the smell of the Christmas tree.

“Just because they say it,” his eyes tell me, “doesn’t mean we have to listen.”

“You’re something wild and magnificent, and he has no idea how to take care of you, so he spends all his time making sure your cage is secure because he has no idea what else to do. And that’s why this kills me, Juliet. Because I think I do know how to take care of you, and I want to take his place so bad that it fucking hurts to look at you sometimes.”

I want him to be happy. I want him to move on. But I don’t want to watch it happen.

“I haven’t loved many things in this world,” he says, “but I loved you from the minute I saw you, and whether it’s today or seventy years from now, I’ll love you with my dying breath.”

“Choose me, Juliet,” he whispers. “Please fucking choose me.”

I know I owe them that much, but it seems like a very long life without Luke. Long and utterly pointless.

These weeks with him have been thrilling and painful, and I think maybe I’ve stored up enough memories to get me through a few more years.

Surfing meant everything to you.” He stops pacing and stares at me, his nostrils flaring. “No, you meant everything to me. Surfing’s just what I do for a living.”

“Don’t try to tell a man who’s waited ten years for you that you love him more.”

“Marry me,” he says. This time, he’ll get no argument. If I’m willing to brave cold water and huge waves to stay near Luke Taylor, I’m sure not going to complain about this. “Name the date. And we’ll need to buy a hammock.”

We’re getting our happy ending after all. I’d have waited for it forever, but I’m so glad I didn’t have to.