From eleven-year-old Kinsey’s summer camp journal:
Dear Journal,
Never fear, I still hate you. But other than Eli, you’re my only friend at camp. I don’t want to be here, but my mom’s got a new boyfriend—yeah, another one—and they’re on a stupid trip.
I’m tired, but they keep making us do stuff. We walked up a mountain in the rain and got muddy. I hate muddy. All the boys took off their shoes and socks because they got blisters and then . . . bare boy feet! Gross.
We also had to play dodgeball—worst game on the planet. One of the obnoxious boys kicked Eli “by accident” so I “accidentally” kicked him back. I told Eli that’s what sisters do. But I actually don’t know what sisters do because I don’t have one.
Brynn’s in my cabin. Again. She gets packages from home with special food and letters. I hate her.
And I hate you, Journal. But not as much as I used to.
Kinsey
ELI OPENED THE dryer and pawed through his clothes for a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. It was a little like closing the barn door after the horses had escaped, but he pulled the denim on anyway and went back into the kitchen.
Brynn had moved to the sink and was staring out the window into the night, her profile somber. “I thought you left,” she said.
He looked at her in surprise. “I just wanted to put on some clothes. Thought it might not seem like it because Max’s a toddler, but making you uncomfortable was the last thing either of us wanted to do.”
She bit her lower lip, still looking exactly that, uncomfortable.
“Also, for future reference,” he said quietly, “I don’t walk away when there’s an issue.”
“That makes one of us, then.” Her smile was a little self-conscious, and he remembered when he’d asked her if he could help her move her things into the house. She’d said it wasn’t important. As if she was used to being unimportant. He hated that for her.
She turned to face him, eyes going to his jeans. On the porch, she’d soaked up the unintended view of him buck-ass naked and appeared to appreciate the sight. But then Max had opened his big mouth and made an inappropriate comment about everyone getting naked, and her amusement had been gone in a blink. Rightfully so. “Max’s young and an idiot,” he said. “He won’t say anything like that to you again.”
She nodded, but he could tell from her carefully hooded gaze that she wasn’t big on promises. Maybe she’d had too many broken in her life, something he understood all too well. A fact that only made him all the more determined to never break a promise to her.
Not easy when he was holding Kinsey’s secrets. And his own. Such as the fact that, long after their summer camp deal, she’d had a starring role in his teenage fantasies.
“Tonight wasn’t Max’s fault. It was mine. I . . . had a bad experience with a previous roommate.” She broke eye contact. “That was also my fault, and it didn’t end well. And while I’m being honest, he wasn’t just a roommate, he was a boyfriend for four months and then a live-in boyfriend for two months, which is maybe why it’s sticking with me.” She shook her head. “It’s not important. I’m not upset with either you or Max. I’m upset with myself. Also, I’m super tired, so I’m just going back to bed and—”
“Brynn.” He very gently reached out for her hand, catching her. “You live here now. You’re part of us. Which means you, and everything about you, are very important.”
Again her gaze skittered away. She wasn’t ready to believe that, which he understood. How long had he himself gone feeling unimportant? For him, family and a sense of belonging came from where he made them, which was why he’d gathered Max and Kinsey here, with him. But if he was being honest with himself, there was still a part of him that secretly yearned . . . to be the one picked. “Did he hurt you, Brynn?”
“He never laid a hand on me, if that’s what you mean.”
“There’s more than one way to hurt someone.”
She nodded. “Yeah. So . . . I fell for his charm and charisma, and he . . .” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. My point is that I can’t trust my own decisions right now because I was stupid.”
“We’ve all made stupid decisions. It’s part of life. A sucky part, but still. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
His smile was wry. “As the master of shoving things deep so I don’t have to deal, I get that.”
“What do you shove deep?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. Boy grows up with disinterested, divorced parents and then goes on to choose poorly in love as well.” He shrugged. “Just your everyday, typical abandonment issues.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“It happens. And I’ve got a nice life here, with people I care about. We have each other’s back, including yours. And on that note, do you need help with your past?”
“No. And I’m in a good place now too. I learned the lesson I was supposed to.”
“And what was that?”
“That I’m too trusting. I’m not going to be walked on, not ever again.” She paused, took a deep breath. “And I really am sorry about tonight. That was all on me. I just was embarrassed, but that was no excuse not to let you know I was there. I’m also sorry about your grandma. What you’re doing, trying to make sure she gets the burial she wanted—you’re a good person.”
“You sound surprised.”
“No. No,” she said again on a small laugh when his brows went up. “I knew you were a good person. I just . . . didn’t know I liked you.”
“Same.” He thought he’d had her pegged. A bird with a broken wing who needed a little help. He was good with that scenario. He was good at helping. It was what he did. And it made her a good roommate for him, because he could tell himself he wasn’t in any way attracted to her.
But he hadn’t counted on those sweet brown eyes and how she looked at things, including him. He hadn’t counted on her adorably sexy smile, the one that seemed to reach right inside his chest and warm him when he hadn’t even realized he was cold.
She gave him another one of those smiles now. The window was open and they could hear the surf pounding the shore. The salty ocean air, one of his favorite things, drifted over them. And though the only things touching were their elbows as they both leaned against the granite countertop, it was one of the most intimate moments he’d had in a long time.
“You’re a marine biologist, right?” she asked. “Cool job.”
“It’s not as glamorous as it sounds. Mostly I spend a whole bunch of time in scuba gear freezing my bits off, or searching for funds so that we can continue to protect and report on the marine life in the bay.”
“Explains your comfort in a wet suit.” She raised a brow. “You always go commando under it?”
He laughed. “Not at work. And only if it’s like a week past laundry day.”
“Is it dangerous work?”
“Laundry? Yes, deadly dangerous. It’s why I procrastinate.”
She laughed. “Your job. You ever run into a shark?”
“It’s the jellyfish that are terrifying. I’ve been stung twice, which hurts like a bitch. How about you?”
“Nope.” She smiled. “I’ve never been stung by a jellyfish.”
“Smart-ass.” He liked that. A lot. “I meant about your work.”
“I start a new job tomorrow, so I’m nervous. It’ll be the first time I’ve ever taught kindergarteners. I’d maybe prefer to get stung by a jellyfish.”
“Trust me, you wouldn’t. What did you teach before this?”
“High school English. Before that I tutored middle schoolers and high schoolers at a tutoring academy. Before that I was a nanny and a waitress, along with a few other odd jobs while I was in college.”
“If you could teach and tutor middle and high schoolers, you can teach kindergarteners. They’re kind of the same thing. Plus, you’re bringing a lot of experience to the table. You’ll do great.”
She stared at him like maybe no one had ever said anything like that to her before. “Thanks,” she said softly.
One of their stomachs growled. His this time, and he began to move around the kitchen, pulling out what he needed, oddly reluctant to call it a night in spite of the late hour.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Didn’t we just eat?”
“Hours ago. Do you like pancakes?”
She laughed. “I love pancakes. Especially at midnight.”
He grinned. “Midnight pancakes taste better.”
“So you do this a lot?”
“Yeah. Surfing burns a lot of calories.”
“Then maybe I should try it.”
“I could teach you,” he said, stirring the ingredients together.
“Be careful what you offer me,” she said. “I like to try new things. I’m just not usually any good at them.”
“You’ll be good at this.”
“You know I’m a klutz,” she said.
He turned and looked at her. She looked at him right back. “Trust me,” he said.
She busied herself with moving around the kitchen. “You also know I’m not very good with trust either. Are you as good at pancakes as you are at surfing?”
“Better.”
“Hmm.” She hopped up onto the counter. “Then consider me as hopeful as Mini.”
The dog had showed up with hopeful eyes, padding over to the stove to sit and watch Eli.
Brynn didn’t just sit. She always seemed to be in motion, legs moving, talking with her hands. Her hair was a riot of loose waves and she didn’t seem to care, which he found refreshing and—damn—extremely attractive.
She was intriguing.
More than.
He added an ingredient that had Mini sitting up straight.
Brynn too. “Chocolate chip pancakes?”
“Is there any other kind?”
She grinned, and something deep inside him . . . warmed. His cold, dead heart, he realized with surprise, and he flipped the first pancake with a flick of his wrist.
Brynn clapped in delight sitting there on his countertop, legs now crossed and tucked beneath her.
“You look like you’re sixteen and in high school,” he said with a smile.
“I didn’t go to high school. I was homeschooled by then.”
“Why?”
She shrugged, looking at the pan, not him. “I was moving at a faster pace.”
He knew by her body language that there was a whole bunch more to that story than she was willing to tell him. Something he understood. “So why kindergarten?” he asked.
“It was all that was open. I’m hoping for the best. Kindergarten’s a really hard time for kids. They’re away from their moms and scared to be different. Maybe I can help them see that they’re unique and special just the way they are.”
He thought that statement was more revealing than anything she’d said up to that point. “I don’t think you have anything to be nervous about,” he said quietly.
Their gazes met and held.
Max reappeared, breaking the moment. He’d dressed, Eli was happy to see, wearing loose basketball shorts and a T-shirt, looking rumpled, like maybe he’d gone to bed but had just rolled out of it again. “I smell chocolate chip pancakes.” He spied what Eli was doing and pumped a triumphant fist. “Yes!” He went to the fridge and unwrapped what looked like a pancake, stuck it on a plate, and set it down for Mini.
“Chicken and rice and carrot pancake,” Eli told Brynn. “Max makes a batch for her once a week or so. She likes to eat with us.”
Max pulled out more plates, handing them to Eli, who loaded them up with not chicken and rice and carrot pancakes just as Kinsey walked in, nose wriggling.
Eli nodded at her and said what he always said. “You’re alive.”
She returned it with her usual, “Not for lack of trying.”
This had been going on since they’d been teenagers and she’d almost died after her surgery. It sounded macabre, but truthfully it was a release and a relief to repeat those words to each other. Sort of like taking the burden off her of trying to stay alive, when sometimes he knew she wasn’t one hundred percent sure it was worth the effort.
“Gimme,” Kinsey said, grabbing a plate. She nodded at Brynn, then turned to Max and froze. “You’re barefoot in the house again.”
“I was born with bare feet,” he said.
“Yes,” Kinsey said, “But we’ve been over this. Bare feet are not allowed.”
Eli looked at Brynn. “She’s got a phobia of men’s feet.”
“It’s not a phobia,” Kinsey said. “Men’s feet are gross.”
“Phobia,” Eli repeated. “Along with people throwing up and getting dirty.”
Kinsey tossed up her free hand. “Well, why don’t you just throw all my crazy out there at once and scare off the new roommate again?”
Eli scooped two pancakes onto her plate. She was wearing flip-flops and a huge black T-shirt that fell to her knees and had slipped off one of her shoulders. It read: I LIKE MY WATER FROZEN INTO ICE CUBES AND SURROUNDED BY VODKA.
“Deck’s shirt?” he asked.
“No. I love vodka.”
“Liar,” he said. “You hate vodka—you love bourbon. But I know why you’re lying. It’s because you told me if I ever saw you in anything of Deck’s, I should shoot you on sight because you’d deserve it for being so sappy as to wear your man’s clothing.”
She pointed at him. “Don’t piss me off and get on my shit list.”
“I’m always on your shit list. I just move up and down on it.”
“Yeah, well, you just moved to the number one spot.”
Eli laughed as he turned to Brynn and dropped two big, fluffy pancakes onto her plate. “Butter? Marshmallow spread? Syrup? Whatever you want.”
Kinsey’s eyes narrowed, and she stopped in the act of grabbing the syrup from the fridge. “How come you didn’t offer the ‘anything you want’ to me?”
“Because you’re mean.”
She flipped him off, then took her first bite and murmured, “Oh my God.” She swallowed and gave him a thumbs-up.
Mixed signals. The story of his life from all the women in it.