I cup her face. “I’ll see you in ten days.”
“Ten,” she echoes, then rises onto her toes and kisses me, soft and sweet, but I deepen it. Her hands slide up my chest, around my neck, fingers threading into my hair.
The slam of the front door echoes through the house, followed by an “Oops!” and the sound of someone taking the stairs two at a time.
Summer pulls back. “Is that?—”
“Helm,” I groan.
He appears in the doorway. “Dude, you’restillpacking? C’mon, we gotta go. Can’t miss the flight.”
His attention snaps to Summer, grinning. “Morning, Summer.”
She waves from where she’s still pressed against me. “Hey, Easton. What team are you playing for?”
“The U S of A, of course.” He closes the distance and holds up his palm for a high-five.
She humors him with an unenthusiastic slap. “Go, team.”
“Did I interrupt something?” His gaze slides to her bare legs.
“Out.” I point to the door.
“Right.” He backs away, hands raised. “I’ll be in the truck. Five minutes, Cap!”
When the door closes, Summer buries her face in my chest.
“I should go,” I say, but I don’t move.
“Yeah.” She doesn’t let go, either.
We stand there, just holding each other.
A distant honk finally pulls us apart.Impatient rookie.
Summer pulls on leggings and slips into her coat before following me downstairs. Helm’s truck is in the driveway, bass thumping loud enough to rattle my eardrums. My neighbors must love that.
At the door, I drop my bag and pull Summer into my arms once more.
“Call me when you land?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“And FaceTime tonight?”
“Every night.”
Helm honks.
“Ignore him,” I mutter.
“He’s going to keep doing it.”
“Let him.” I kiss her, wishing I had more time.
She’s the one who pulls back. “Go. Represent your country.” She raises a fist, butchering the Latin motto of Canada. “From Sea to Sea.”
I can’t help but laugh despite everything. Then, because I’m going to miss the flight if I linger any longer, I grab my bag and open the door. Summer walks with me.
