Joe
Then
The summer he turned eighteen,Joe Miller figured he had it all going on. After graduation, his pal Lonnie left the island to work in a warehouse in Detroit. Ryan was spending his days smoking weed in his parents’ basement. His other friends were in dead-end jobs, scooping ice cream or shoveling horse shit, or making plans to go away to college.
Joe didn’t need to go to college. He had everything he wanted right here, a good job that paid real money, learning a skilled trade. Lately Rob had been after him to get back in the classroom and complete his formal apprenticeship, but for now Joe was mostly outside, learning on the job. Sure, it was physically demanding, on his feet and up and down ladders all day, hauling stacks of wood and bags of concrete. But Joe had always liked working with his hands, creating something useful. In two more years, maybe three, when he’d earned his journeyman qualification, he’d be making enough to get his own place.
In the meantime, Hailey’s stupid dad had finally walked out on Joe’s mom, leaving Joe as the man of the house. Which suited him fine. He was glad to help out, watching his babysister, contributing toward the bills. It was more than Hailey’s father ever did. Or Joe’s dad, come to think of it.
Not that Joe thought about it much.
And today he had the whole glorious summer afternoon off, the sun was shining, and he and Brittany were headed to the beach. The lake would be freezing—the water never really warmed up, even in August—but they didn’t plan on swimming anyway.
“I hope you’re being careful,” his mom had said as she packed lunch earlier that morning—fancy little sandwiches left over from some wedding she’d catered at the big hotel.
Which was kind of a joke, seeing as his mom got pregnant with Joe at seventeen. But maybe that’s why she said it.
He grinned at her as he filched a pastry. “You putting condoms in with those cookies?”
She slapped at his hand. Ruffled his hair. “Carol Johnson says Brittany’s off to State in the fall. I just don’t want to see you getting your feelings hurt.”
“No worries, Mom. We don’t have those kinds of feelings.”
Brittany was just using him for sex. Or to get back at her parents, who lived in one of the big houses overlooking the lake and thought their only daughter was wasting her time on Joe.
They didn’t need to worry. Brittany had made it clear her life plan didn’t include settling down on the island with her starter boyfriend. Joe wasn’t looking to settle down, period. But he liked Brittany, who was pretty and sharp and sometimes funny. And, yeah, there was a certain satisfaction in the fact that she had chosen him over Brian Russo, whose dad was a lawyer, or Mike Perkins, who was going to Ann Arbor on a swimming scholarship.
Plus, she looked great in a bathing suit. Even better once he got her out of it.
He took her away from the tourist beaches to a secluded scrap of shore where the trees dipped down to the waterline and the rocks were smooth. Smoothish, anyway, enough to spread a blanket. Waves lapped. Leaves rustled. Birds twittered in the trees. The sun was warm on Joe’s shirtless shoulders, and Brittany’s breasts, freed from her blue bikini top, were warm, too, pink-tipped and pale against his tanned hand.
Another rustle.
Brittany stiffened. “What was that?”
“Squirrel.”
“It sounded bigger than that.”
“A rabbit.” He kissed her, open-mouthed, coaxing, playing with her breasts, which he’d found generally worked, until she relaxed again under him.
“Ow.” A kid’s voice.
“Shh.”
Shit.
Joe raised his head and looked through the underbrush straight into the wide, interested eyes of twelve-year-old Annie Gallagher.
Well, hell.
The bushes beside her moved. “Anne!” An agonized whisper. “Let’s go!”
Joe levered himself off Brittany and rolled to a sitting position. “What the fuck,” he snapped. It was not a question.
Anne wrinkled her nose at him. “Language.”
He resisted the urge to laugh.
