From ten-year-old Kinsey’s summer camp journal:
Dear Journal,
Ugh. Everyone looks at me weird here because I take a lot of medicines, and because the counselors let me sit on the sidelines when the other campers have to exercise. I hate the stares. So I stare back. I’m getting good at it. Someone stole my medical bracelet but no one would confess, so I stole something from everyone in my cabin. I hate them all.
I’d run away, but I don’t feel good enough to walk home. Also, I can’t leave Eli. He’s the only person here who’s nice to me. Okay, so he’s nice to everyone, but he’s the nicest to me. When I told him I was sad because I didn’t have family to write to, he told me he’d be my brother for life, and I could write to him. But he’s right here, so that’s stupid.
There’d better be ice cream for dessert tonight. Chocolate ice cream.
Kinsey
p.s. I still hate you.
“STUPID, YOU’RE SO, so, so stupid,” Brynn muttered to herself, taking herself and her duffel bag back down the walkway toward her car. How could she have just blindly agreed to move in? Had she learned nothing? Had she already forgotten the deal she’d made with herself to protect the people she cared about, the one where she was going to lay off rash decisions and let everyone continue to walk their chosen path without interference or distraction from her?
She shook her head. A temporary setback, that was all. A “two steps forward, one step back” sort of thing. She could fix that. And she’d make it easier on herself—the hell with no rash decisions. No more decisions at all, at least until she grew the hell up.
Behind her, she heard the front door open, but she refused to stop. “Sorry, Eli,” she said without looking. “But you should’ve told me that you’re still a member of the Kinsey Davis Mean Kids Club.”
“The Kinsey Davis Mean Kids Club?”
Brynn closed her eyes. Shit. Not Eli. Kinsey herself, the president of the club, the Kinsey who’d grown from a moody, surly teen into a moody, surly woman. And that she was also stunningly beautiful with great taste in shoes really chapped Brynn’s hide. “Never mind,” Brynn said. “Forget it. Forget all of it, I shouldn’t have come.”
“Yeah, well, you did, so . . .” Then Kinsey surprised her by grabbing the strap on Brynn’s duffel bag and tugging on it.
Brynn turned to face her. “What the hell?”
“You’re not leaving.”
“Oh, yes, I am.” Brynn tugged back, and—perfect—now they were in a full-out tug-of-war with her bag.
“Stop.” Kinsey won the wrestle-for-the-bag contest. Damn, she was stronger than she looked. “You gave Eli a verbal agreement,” the mean girl had the balls to say. “You’re our new roommate, for better or worse.”
“I gave that verbal agreement under false assumptions. No way am I going to live here with you.”
“Okay. I get that. But consider this—if you didn’t want this too, you wouldn’t be yelling at me. And you wouldn’t be all red-faced and sweaty.”
That that might actually be true really fried Brynn’s ass. Enough that her mouth bypassed her brain and ran free. “Seriously, you’re like . . . a Disney villain.”
Kinsey’s eyes narrowed. “Take that back.”
“Fine,” Brynn said. “‘Villain’ is a little strong. Deep, deep down, you’ve got some good qualities. Probably.”
“I meant the Disney part.”
Brynn rolled her eyes. For the past year, she’d slowly gotten into a bad headspace where she had clearly forgotten how to stand up for herself. Ashton had done that, and she was ashamed of herself because she’d let him. But it was a cycle she hadn’t known how to break.
Until now.
Suddenly, she felt strong and willing to be vocal and fight for herself. “You and I both know this would never work out, and frankly, I’m not even sure why you’d want it to.” She let her bag drop to the ground. “You don’t want me here.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I know you like to be mean to little kids just because they’re different.”
Kinsey stilled, then closed her eyes. “Yeah. So about that . . .”
“I’m listening.”
Kinsey grimaced. “You have no idea how badly I feel about what a big asshole I used to be.”
“Used to be?”
Kinsey’s eyes flew open, flashing something Brynn couldn’t get a bead on. Maybe slight humor and approval that Brynn was standing up to her. “People change,” she finally said.
Not buying it, Brynn shook her head. “Come on. I know you don’t want me here either.” Some of what she’d overheard hadn’t computed, but she’d understood that much.
“I just had a really shit day, okay?” Kinsey paused. “But I’m okay. Thanks for asking back there, about the hospital thing. It was a false alarm. I’m sorry for taking all of that out on you.”
Brynn supposed she could understand that, given her own situation and the whole string of really bad days she’d had . . .
Kinsey met her gaze. “I’m also sorry I was so unwelcoming, but I’m like that. Ignore me, but don’t go. Don’t take my bad behavior out on Eli. He needs to fill that room.”
“The house is great. It’s right across the street from the beach. He could get another roommate without even trying.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Why?”
Kinsey looked away. “It’s . . . complicated.”
“Because . . . ?”
Kinsey didn’t answer.
“Oh my God. Tell me it’s not something kinky, like you and Eli need a third.”
Kinsey blinked and then laughed, and by the rusty sound of it, it wasn’t something she did often. “I told you, it’s not like that between Eli and me, but nice one on making me laugh. Just . . . stay.”
Brynn narrowed her eyes. “I still haven’t heard why it has to be me.”
Kinsey looked down at her very pretty, very expensive sandals, which Brynn recognized as the latest “in” brand, costing over a hundred dollars. She knew this because she’d been coveting a pair and unable to justify the price.
After a deep breath, Kinsey lifted her gaze to Brynn’s. “I’m sorry,” she said. “About a lot of things.”
“Like?”
“Like how I treated you all those years ago at camp. I’m”—she paused as if trying to remember what she’d preplanned to say—“working on myself. I’d like the chance to make it up to you, and to get to know you.”
Well, damn. Those were some good words. And truthfully, Brynn was working on herself too. She’d made plenty of mistakes, not the least of which was that apparently she wasn’t exactly the most forgiving sort. “I’ll think about it.”
“What’s there to think about?”
“Well, I’m not used to this side of you, for one thing,” Brynn said.
“My sweet side, you mean?”
Brynn’s brows went up.
Kinsey nodded. “Yeah, okay. ‘Sweet’ might be a stretch.”
Brynn snorted. “Look, it’s not personal. It’s that I just made a deal with myself—no more decisions until further notice, because I’m bad at them. I really do just want to think it through.”
“I guess I can respect that,” Kinsey said, sounding as though maybe the words were like cut glass on her tongue, which made Brynn snort again.
“Was that painful?” she asked.
Kinsey made a face. “Little bit. Listen . . . Just think about it. Maybe you’ll see that this wouldn’t be a bad decision to add onto a string of other bad decisions.”
Brynn froze. “I didn’t say I’d made a string of bad decisions.”
“You said you’d given up decisions. That was brought on by something, the most obvious choice being a string of bad decisions. Plus, it’s all in your eyes.”
“Our eyes are nearly the exact same color of light brown,” Brynn said.
“Yeah,” Kinsey said, giving her an odd look. “But mine are good at hiding shit. You should work on that instead of the no-decision thing. Think about the room, okay?”
THE NEXT DAY, Brynn stood in her moms’ kitchen at the very end of her proverbial rope. Whoever had said you couldn’t go home again had been right. She was slowly going insane. Raina had tried to take her to a shaman to heal all her “inner wounds.” Olive had signed her up for karate classes, like the ones she’d taken at age ten—before breaking her hand on day one, proving she had zero athletic ability. Raina cooked and cooked, leaving labeled containers in the fridge such as For If Brynn’s Constipated, For Brynn’s Peckish Mood.
They meant well, but she’d gone back to the drawing board, looking for a place to rent. She’d looked at three places. Two were completely out of her budget, and one was an hour drive to work. Now, scarily enough, she was actually reconsidering going back to Eli’s. Neither Eli nor Kinsey had pushed. She’d asked for time, and it was apparently being granted.
She had to admit that was a first, for someone to listen to her, really listen, and give her what she asked for, and how sad was that?
The problem was her own. Her shaky self-esteem. It’d already taken a beating just being back in Wildstone. The last thing she wanted to do was make things harder on herself. She was inhaling some contraband donuts she’d picked up on her way home from filling out all the school district’s paperwork when she heard her moms. She quickly took her half-dozen donuts into her room and shut the door.
And then nearly screamed.
Someone—two certain busybody someones—had taken it upon themselves while she’d been gone to repaint her bedroom. It wasn’t hard to tell who’d done which walls. Olive had done two in a muted, understated cream, and then had put up pictures of the three of them from over the years. Like hundreds of pictures, from when she’d been missing her four front teeth all at the same time, to that time she’d gotten a bad perm and resembled a circus clown.
Raina had done her two walls Raina style. One was a rainbow, the other a corkboard, upon which she’d hung every single one of Brynn’s questionable achievements over the years, including all her “participation” awards for everything she’d ever failed at, and there’d been many, many things.
Brynn did an about-face and headed back out to the living room. Olive was standing on the couch rearranging the pictures above it according to Raina, who stood in the middle of the living room giving instructions.
“And we’re doing this again why?” Olive asked, removing the last picture from the wall.
“You know why. I promised my sixteen Instagram followers.” Raina flicked a red reflector light on the now bare wall so Catherine could chase it. “Start recording, please.”
Olive pulled out her phone to capture a video of Catherine the Great Cat chasing the light.
For Raina’s sixteen Instagram followers.
Love was very strange.
Backing out of the living room unseen, Brynn was in her bedroom again, halfway through a buttermilk glazed, when she caught a shadow moving in the space between the bottom of her door and the hardwood floor.
Four feet. Two bare, two in heels.
She chomped on her donut, hoping the sugar would miraculously lower the blood pressure that her moms were keeping at stroke levels.
“Hello?” Raina called out.
Brynn bit her lower lip.
“Darling?” This from Olive.
Never alone . . .
Sure, she’d promised herself no more decisions, especially any life-altering ones, but this seemed like an emergency situation as it affected her mental health. Setting the donut down, she pulled out her phone and sent a text.
BRYNN: So here’s the thing. I recently promised myself no more life-altering decisions until I grew the hell up and could stop ruining my own life. So I need a life-altering decision-making committee.
ELI: What are the requirements?
BRYNN: They have to have my best interests at heart.
ELI: I could do that.
BRYNN: You think you can make decisions for me that will only be in my best interests?
ELI: Try me.
BRYNN: First of all, why did you not tell me your roommate was Kinsey? Were you being manipulative, or an asshole?
ELI: I deserve that. And I’m sorry I blindsided you. I didn’t think you’d even give it a shot if you knew. She doesn’t exactly present well. Can we still be friends?
BRYNN: To be determined.
ELI: Fair. And second of all?
BRYNN: I need out of my moms’ house before I lose the rest of my marbles. I’ve searched and searched, but there’s nothing I can afford. Except . . .
ELI: Here. If it helps, I can tell you it’s the right decision.
BRYNN: How do I know that?
ELI: Because your life-altering decision-making committee can one hundred percent assure you it is. Do we have a deal?
Brynn eyed the box of donuts.
ELI: If it makes you feel better, we could pinky swear on it.
In summer camp, pinky swearing had been a big thing. If you broke a pinky swear, you were never trusted again. And she had to admit, Eli had never broken a pinky swear. She looked at her phone. Once again, he was being patient, allowing her time, something that she had to admit was very new and very welcome.
BRYNN: Okay. I’m in.
ELI: Great. What do you need?
BRYNN: A lobotomy.
BRYNN SHOOK HER head at herself the entire drive through Wildstone and down the highway a few miles to the beach exit. She was still shaking her head at herself when she parked in front of the house she hadn’t imagined she’d ever see again.
It was a classic New England style, in ocean blue with white trim around the windows and a large deck that held a grill and a porch swing, along with a table and Adirondack chairs, all looking well lived in and loved.
It was dusk, and she knew there was nowhere prettier on earth than Wildstone at dusk. The sun was a huge, bright-red ball low on the horizon, flirting with the water’s edge, a few streaky clouds teasing the sun, the water’s whitecaps sparkling like diamonds.
She stood there at the end of the driveway staring at the gorgeous view and actually felt her blood pressure lower just a little bit. Not her pulse, though. Nope, that was still kicking from nerves.
Then she felt a hand slide under the strap of her duffel bag and remove it from her shoulder. She whipped around and Eli smiled.
“Sorry,” he said, and shouldered her bag. “It looked heavy.”
“What’s heavy is my life.”
He nodded like he understood that all too well, and she let her eyes wander over him, taking in the battered work boots, the faded and ripped jeans riding low on his hips, and the thin, olive drab cotton of the T-shirt with some complicated science formula on it stretched over broad shoulders. His hair was wet, like he’d just showered, but the sexy stubble on his jaw said he hadn’t shaved. He was barefoot and wearing a pair of reading glasses. Be still her heart. A sexy nerd.
A bark sounded, followed by paws scrabbling for purchase against the floor.
“Brace yourself,” Eli warned mildly.
What looked like a huge yellow polar bear came barreling out of the house. Mini. She gave another happy bark and started to jump on Brynn, but Eli stopped her with a calm but firm “Down.”
Mini sat, ears flapping, tongue lolling, an actual smile curving her canine mouth, which adorably wrinkled her face.
“If you remind her not to jump before she gets to you, you’ve got a better shot at not getting knocked flat on your ass,” he said. “Also beware of sitting on the ground to pet her. She’ll plant herself on you like you’re a dog bed.”
“Anything else?”
“Don’t leave anything where she can get it. She prefers to chew high-quality stuff too, like AirPods and expensive shoes.”
They both looked at Mini, whose tail was sweeping the ground. Brynn patted her on the head. “But she looks so cute.”
“Yeah, don’t let that face fool you. She’s just on a break between bouts of destruction.”
Suddenly Mini jumped up, snapping her jaw at thin air.
“Sky raisin,” Eli said.
“What?”
He lifted a shoulder. “She loves flies, thinks they’re a delicacy.”
Brynn gave a shudder. “That’s gross.”
“Agreed. That’s why we call them sky raisins—not as disgusting sounding. Also, FYI, she’s allergic to the jalapeño sky raisins, so we have to keep an eye on her when she’s outside.”
“Jalapeño sky raisins?”
“Bees and wasps.”
She laughed as Mini moved to Eli, the clear love of her life, leaning against him, knocking him back a step. With a laugh, he crouched low and gave her a hug. Mini melted to the ground, a puddle of love, where Eli obliged her with a full belly rub before looking up at Brynn. “Welcome home, by the way.”
She bit her lower lip. “I still have reservations.” Not the least of which were her conflicting emotions about the man now straightening back up to his full height and, at just over six feet, also looking like the sexiest welcoming committee she’d ever seen.
“I get it,” he said, and for a moment Brynn freaked, thinking she’d spoken out loud. “Your reservations are founded,” he said quietly, “but I hope you’ll be happy here. Come on in. Max is home. Kinsey’s on a date.”
“She dates?”
Eli laughed. “She wouldn’t call it a date. But the guy she’s with, Deck, absolutely would. They’ve been doing their thing for nearly a year now, and no one, not even Deck, has got the balls to tell Kinsey she’s in a relationship.”
“Huh,” she said, processing something else, something she hadn’t really thought she needed to know until right that minute. “So you two really aren’t a thing.”
Their eyes met and held. “Nope.”
And again her mouth disconnected from her brain and acted independently. “Do you date?”
“Other than my dog?” He shrugged. “When the stars align. You?”
“Same,” she said softly.
He smiled. “What’s an ideal date for you?”
Someone who doesn’t con me out of my things and my self-esteem . . . “Anything that involves food, real food, and hopefully dessert, where my date’s impressed by my ability to eat an entire cake and not at all disgusted.”
He laughed, and Mini barked in excitement. Then, from a house down the street, a woman and a little girl came out. The little girl went skipping down the sidewalk and Mini froze, whined, and then leapt right into Eli’s arms.
“Aw, I’ve got you,” he murmured. “You’re okay.”
“I thought you’re supposed to tell her ‘down.’”
“She’s scared. Today at the dog park, another little girl—and I mean tiny, like she was maybe two years old—chased her, and now she wants to be carried whenever she sees a little kid.”
“But the girl’s not even looking this way.”
“Tell that to Mini.”
Brynn looked into the most devastatingly sweet brown eyes she’d ever seen and stepped closer. “Aw, it’s okay,” she whispered, cupping that incredibly expressive face in her hands. “I’m scared of little kids too.”
“Aren’t you a kindergarten teacher?” Eli asked, sounding amused.
“Yeah. And your point?” Smiling, she lifted her head and froze, because she hadn’t realized how close to him she’d moved. They were toe to toe, and if he dipped his head, they’d be nose to nose.
He didn’t look perturbed by the nearness in the slightest. Just smiled, bent to kiss his dog on the top of her head, and then set her down. “Listen up,” he told Mini as he led them into the house. “Brynn’s one of us now, so if you could refrain from eating her food, making yourself at home on her bed, or farting when she’s in the room, that’d be great.”
“Does she do all those things?”
From the vicinity of Mini’s hindquarters came an unmistakable sound.
Brynn laughed.
“I assume that answers your question,” Eli said, fanning the air. “Just don’t feed her any human food. Hard to believe, but it gets worse when you do.”
The room she’d rented had a window that looked out onto a side yard. Lots of wild grass, but beyond that she could see the cliffs and the ocean. She’d have stayed here for the view alone, but then Eli dropped her duffel bag onto the bed and pointed to the attached bathroom, which held a big, fat, porcelain self-standing tub between the shower and the sink.
“Oh my God,” she whispered reverently, and moved closer, running her fingers along the edge. “I just fell in love.”
“That was easy.”
She slid him a look. “With your tub.”
He grinned, and gestured to the closed door at the other end of the tub. “That leads to another bedroom.”
Her eyes went to the door. Oh, boy. “Kinsey’s, I presume.”
“She loves baths too.” Eli rubbed a hand over his scruffy jaw. “Maybe we should write up a schedule.”
“We’re grown-ups,” Brynn heard herself say. “I’m sure we can figure it out.” But actually, she wasn’t really sure at all.
“Where’s the rest of your stuff?”
She hesitated, not wanting to admit it was still in Long Beach. She didn’t want to tell him any of that story for lots of reasons. “In my trunk,” she finally said.
“Need help unloading it?”
“No, but thanks.” Even if her things had been in her trunk, she’d want to leave them there for now. No sense rushing into something that might not work out.
Especially when nothing else ever had.
That was what happened when one fell for a con artist; you lost your perspective and self-trust. Because everything felt like a mirage now. Her relationships, her sense of home, her sense of security and well-being. Everything.
Eli looked like maybe he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. He just gave her a nod and headed out of her room, stopping to look back. “Want dinner?”
“Oh. Um, I don’t want to intrude . . .”
“You’re not. Max does most of the cooking. He’s got the barbeque going. Burgers or hot dogs?”
Her stomach rumbled. A burger. No, a hot dog. Wait. Maybe both? But that would mean she was mooching too much food. God, look at her. Such an easy decision, and she couldn’t even make it. “I don’t know.”
“We’ve also got vegan burgers in the freezer, left over from someone Max was dating, but fair warning, they suck.”
“No, it’s not that.”
He studied her for a moment. “Maybe choosing between a burger and a hot dog is one of those . . . life-altering decisions you need your committee for.”
She let out the breath she’d been holding, because she didn’t know how he possibly could, but he seemed to understand. “Maybe.”
“I get low blood sugar when I don’t eat,” he said. “And once that happens, hanger sets in and it’s hard to recover.”
“Hanger?”
“Hunger plus anger.”
She laughed.
Smiling, he said, “Just give me a little hint and your committee will take it from here.”
“I like both burgers and hot dogs.”
He nodded. “Both it is, then.”
That got another smile out of her. He’d made it easy. But she had no such illusions about any of the rest of this being so easy.