Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Six minutes later, I pulled my truck off the coastal road that ran alongside the body of water the town was named after, and into the long gravel driveway I’d avoided since I’d moved back. The Rousseau house. House was a quaint term for an estate with seven bedrooms, a carriage house, two acres of prime real estate along the beach, and that coveted pier that had somehow withstood the last two nor’easters to rip through here.
And damn, it looked exactly the same as it had the last time I’d sneaked over and climbed the rose-covered trellis to Allie’s room on the second floor. Same grayish-blue paint job with white trim, same pattern on the cushions of the porch swing. Nostalgia hit with a wicked right hook.
Every muscle in my body clenched when I put the car in park in front of the wraparound porch, forsaking the drive on the right hand that led back to the carriage house. If I didn’t love Juniper so much, if I didn’t treasure her unwavering certainty that I would keep my promises—that someone would—I would have driven my ass straight off the property.
As it was, Juniper was already out of the car and walking up the steps to the covered porch, her purple backpack bouncing with every step. What was with the backpack, anyway? Did she think she was moving in or something?
I shut off the ignition, pocketed the key, and got out of the truck, half expecting Mrs. Rousseau to appear in the doorway to shoo me away from her daughter with threats and poignant insults.
Juniper rang the bell as I walked up the four steps to the porch, uncaring if the wood creaked beneath my feet for the first time. Then she knocked as I moved to stand beside her. Shit, my palms were sweaty, my pulse was pretty much tachycardic, and my stomach seriously considered emptying its contents.
I was seventeen all over again, trying to do the right thing by walking her to the front door, and yet I was simultaneously eighteen, losing her all over again. Darkening her doorstep again had never been in my plans, which left me horrifyingly . . . unprepared. And I was always prepared.
This was officially the most reckless thing I’d ever done.
I counted to thirty, and relief beat out the sting of disappointment. “She’s not here.”
“She has to be!” June jabbed the bell again.
“Maybe Seconds is wrong. She hasn’t been back in years, June-Bug,” I said softly.
Juniper shot me a look that was half dejection and half panic, then spun on her heel. “She has to be here!” she called back over her shoulder, then jumped the steps and took off running around the side of the house.
She had to be kidding me.
“June!” I caught up to her in a matter of seconds, right at the cursed rose-covered trellis that had earned me two of the scars on my hands. “We can’t trespass.”
“She could be in the backyard.” She marched forward. “Let’s just look, please? I have to meet her. I just have to,” she downright begged, using those kryptonite eyes on me.
Fuck, if this day wasn’t one problem after another. I wavered. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d sneaked into the backyard. Besides, at this time of day, Allie would have been in the studio, and given that it was right next to the front door, she would have heard the bell, which meant there was zero chance she was actually here, no matter what the damned clock app said.
“Fine,” I agreed. At least it would put an end to this insanity.
Juniper grinned. “How did you meet her, anyway?” she asked as we passed the corner of the back porch, where I’d sat on the roof for countless hours, stargazing with Allie. “It’s not like you run in the same circles.”
“I was in the right place at the right time,” I said for the second time that day.
“And why aren’t you friends anymore?” June blinked and covered her eyes with her hand as we stepped out of the shade and into the sun of the backyard. The manicured lawn dropped off sharply at the cliff, and a wooden bridge covered the distance down to the beach and pier.
“That part’s . . . complicated,” I answered quietly, scanning the yard with its pool and lush landscaping in full spring bloom, finding it empty.
“Did you do something stupid?” She narrowed her eyes at me, taking Allie’s side in an argument she didn’t even know existed, and she walked toward the cliff steps, leaving me to follow after. “Mom says Uncle Gavin is prone to stupidity, but you’re supposed to be the one who does the right thing.”
Ouch.
“The curse of being in the right place at the right time is that sometimes there isn’t a right thing to do.” We reached the steps, and I turned my Bruins hat forward to block the sun as we looked down at the beach. My gaze followed the line of the pier and caught on the shape bobbing off to the side of it.