The Summer of Broken Rules

by K.L. Walther

“I didn’t want you to come,” I cut in, on the verge of crying. “I wanted my boyfriend—my boyfriend—to come, not my shithead ex!”

“You’re very affectionate,” he said, gaze catching mine. “You know that?”

The kitchen was about to burst, but at the same time, it felt so empty. Where was she? Where was Claire, balancing plates, water glasses, and utensils so she could set the table? Where was she?

When we made accidental eye contact, he blew me a kiss…and I swear I felt it hit my cheek, a light tickle followed by a rush of heat.

Thinking of Wit’s laugh suddenly made me miss him. I hadn’t seen him all day;

“For the record, Shithead,” I said, “I wouldn’t have been on your arm.” I swallowed and gripped my phone as tightly as possible. “You would’ve been on mine.”

He was just being open and genuine. Open and genuine were part of Wit’s brand.

The door squeaked, but Wit had barely crossed the sitting room’s threshold before Dad flipped out. “But not to you,” he said and pointed outside. “Absolutely not.”

“You pay me the most wonderful compliments. You say such interesting things no one has ever said before, like how affectionate I am, and smart and clever…and I can’t even tell you how good that makes me feel.”

Claire would always tug on my braids and say, “Your hair, Mer! Forever my favorite color!”

When Claire had died, fun died with her. It was like I was walking through a thick fog and needed to cling to someone so I didn’t get lost.

He was my friend, my partner in crime, the person who made me laugh so hard before lulling me to sleep with his heartbeat and adorable mouth breathing.

It was a little eerie. God, was he handsome.

“Mer, your pact started out as strategy, but now I think it means more than either of you expected it to. You both know that.”

“Please,” Wit murmured. “Please, let’s walk.” He paused. “Let’s walk and talk.”

“Sarah talked about her for months before her visit,” Wit said quietly. He chuckled. “It was like Taylor Swift was coming to town.”

I got caught up in the magic—got caught up in you.

“It’s one of those special places where you feel like time doesn’t exist. Where it will always be summer, where I’ll always wake up with you.”

“Yes,” Uncle Brad drawled like a Disney villain. “Don’t move, kid.”

My sister had died on her first big adventure away from home, so I didn’t want an adventure. I wanted family; I wanted familiar.

“I wasn’t joking earlier,” he murmured. “Claire really did try to set us up—she gave me your number that night before leaving the restaurant.”

“Enough with this pretending nonsense. If you want him, go get him. Don’t miss your shot.”

You’re pretty, beautiful, stunning, mesmerizing.” He paused. “But that’s not all you are. You’re everything Claire said and more. Clever, funny, caring, lively, strong, brave—all of it. You are all of it.” He kissed the top of my head. “And I do know how much you adore me,” he whispered. “I just wish it was as much as I adore you.”

I didn’t know what the next nine months held for me, but I knew that a year from now, I would be here—on the Vineyard, on The Farm, with my favorite people. Claire and her dreams of working on the island had inspired me. She would forever inspire me.

Claire was my friend, but she was your sister. It hurt being ignored all those months, and I know you wish you had handled it better, but she was your sister. I can’t even imagine, if I were to lose Jake…” She shook her head. “I can’t even imagine.”

I love you, Stephen. I adore you, but I love you even more.

“Last summer, we played in memory of Claire, and from now on, we will always play in memory of Claire.”

“I was telling Mer how lovely she looks tonight.” It took everything for me not to laugh. We’d so been plotting.

“I’m going to win,” I whispered once I reached the final mark. “This year, I’m going to win.”