Whenever I wanted to go to the Fairs’ house, Goldie was usually glued to my side. She and Juju were together anytime Goldie wasn’t with Tully. If Juju was in charge, they baked, and if Goldie was, they worked on art projects.
After working so hard, the quiet was nice.
Sometimes I had the tree house to myself, and I liked that.
It felt great to have something we’d worked on with our own hands. My brother Noah helped some. He wanted to build houses in the future, and he already knew way more than I did about construction. Even though it was technically our tree house, I knew Jackson and Juju would be spending a lot of time there.
Later that night, after we’d roasted marshmallows and then went inside to watch a movie, Jackson fell asleep while the credits were rolling. I looked around for my notebook, the only thing I’d brought with me, and realized I’d left it in the tree house.
I slipped outside barefoot, the grass cool against my feet, and heard the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks. Windy Harbor’s lighthouse was a little more visible from Jackson’s house than mine, but when the light turned toward our yard, itwas brighter. I was still glad we had the lights at the tree house. They lit my path and the ladder when I climbed up.
When I pushed the door open, I froze.
Juju was in there, sitting cross-legged on one of the sleeping bags with a flashlight tucked between her knees, flipping through my notebook.
She looked up and dropped the flashlight. It took her a second of fumbling to pick it up again, and I blinked at her. She had on a tank top and these tiny cut-off shorts that she hadn’t been wearing earlier. I couldn’t remember ever seeing her wear anything like this. She looked older. Her legs went on forever. I felt my face and neck get warm.
“Uh, what are you doing?” I asked, motioning for her to hand me my notebook.
She gave it to me. “You’re always guarding this like a hawk, and I wanted to see what was so important.”
“Well? What do you think?”
She grinned. “I think I’d really like to try that steak wrapped in the puff pastry.”
My cheeks flamed hotter. “You don’t think it’s stupid?”
Her smile dropped. “What’s stupid?”
“That I make up recipes that I think sound good?”
She leaned up on her knees. “I think it’s awesome. And you don’t just write them down—you make them. I saw the recipe for that macaroni and cheese you made.” She pretended she was locking her lips. “I won’t tell a soul the secret ingredient.”
I grinned. “You better not. One day I’m going to make that in my restaurant, and you and I will be the only ones who know.”
Her smile was huge. She liked that. I stood a little taller, my chest tight with that heated buzz I’d been getting around her a lot lately. I loved making her light up. Ever since the day we met and I saw those sad eyes looking up at me, I’d been trying tomake her happy. It wasn’t hard to do. She was funny, and I was never bored with her.
I’d never admit this to anyone, but sometimes I even preferred her company over Jackson’s.
“You know what would be delicious with this one?” she asked, pointing to a recipe I’d made up for a pasta with chicken and mushrooms.
I moved closer and sat down beside her, our shoulders brushing against each other.
“What?”
“My caramelized Brussels sprouts.” She grinned.
“Mmm, for sure.”
Juju and I were the only kids we knew who liked Brussels sprouts. And wereallyliked them. Juju made them the best. I could probably eat them every day.
“Andthat raspberry cream pie I made a few weeks ago.”
I groaned. “I loved that pie. Anything would be good with that, but you’re right, it would be thebestwith that pasta dish.”
She nodded, her smile huge again.
“When are you making it again?” I asked.
