Page 8 of The Summer Plans

Me

Why is Summer crashing our summer vacation?

Raven

What are you talking about? You’re at the house next week, right?

No. You know it was this week.

Oops.

That’s all you have to say?

Sorry?

Convincing.

This is an opportunity.

How so?

For years I’ve watched you float around aimlessly, searching for happiness in all the wrong places. Joining the fire department was good for you. You’re thriving in a way you never have before.

But what does that have to do with this?

I want to see you settle down. There’s still this restless energy in you. And maybe you need to make amends with Summer so you can move on. You can finally get the closure you need to be happy.

I don’t want to move on from Summer, but I can’t admit that to my sister. Maybe this is the universe giving me a do-over. Or this will end in disaster and I’ll lose Summer. Again.

“Why are there people here?” Sophie grumbles as I set my phone down. Her face is glued to her phone as we stand in the kitchen. Summer and her kids have been gone for a little over an hour. I rub my temples, trying to stave off the impending headache. “I didn’t know there’d be people here.”

“Did you give her the wrong week?”

“No.”

Sophie finally looks up from her phone and wrinkles her nose. “How many kids are staying here?”

“Three. So, you better watch your language, and no inappropriate talk around the kids. I know how you and your mom can get, but this crowd is a little younger.”

She waves me off, tapping on her screen. “Who are you texting?”

Sophie ignores me, her attention glued to her phone.

“I guess we’re sharing a bedroom.”

“Umm, pass. I’m not sharing a room with my dad. Gross.”

“There’s only one room left unoccupied. I’ll sleep on the floor. I’ve had to do it at the firehouse before.”

“Why don’t you sleep in the living room on one of the couches?”

“You mean one of the many ridiculously tiny loveseats and wicker chairs? I’m way too tall to fit in those.” And despite being in excellent shape, I can’t comfortably bend that way all night. I blow out a deep breath, weighing out my options. Looks like I might be sleeping on the beach.

“Whatever, I’m calling Taylor.” She waves me off, walking up the stairs, never taking her eyes off her screen.

“Wait, is Taylor a boy or a girl?” I call after her. She ignores me.

The beach house is quiet, and I look around, surveying the mess. Empty goldfish wrappers litter the kitchen island, along with a few rogue crackers still on the counter. Grabbing the trash can, I sweep paper plates and empty snack wrappers into it as I walk around the counter. When my foot lands on what I thought was an empty Capri Sun, I curse as liquid shoots out of the tiny yellow straw, soaking the top of my other foot.