Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
I’d ask my buddy Wyatt, our local tattoo artist, but things are kind of weird between us. Not on my account, though. I was just going about my business, hanging out with Alana here and there, when Wyatt broke up with his longtime girlfriend and suddenly decided he had a thing for Alana too. Next thing I know, I’m in a love triangle I never wanted to be part of, over a woman who doesn’t actually want either one of us.
I text Luke first, who responds without mincing words.
Luke: Bro, I’m so hungover. If I go out on the water I’ll puke all over your ugly face.
I try Evan Hartley next, though I’m pretty sure he told me last night that he and his brother Cooper were at one of their construction sites today. I message him anyway, because he’s the twin more likely to shirk his responsibilities and go day-drinking on a boat with me.
Evan: Can’t. We’re so fucking behind on this stupid job.
Damn. Guess I’m on my own today.
Evan: But we’re grabbing beers with Danny later. Rip Tide. Around 7. You in?
I quickly shoot off a response.
Me: I’m down. See you there.
CHAPTER 4
CASSIE
“Do you think a six-year-old would like this?” I hold up a red T-shirt that features a purple unicorn riding a surfboard. “What are kids into these days? I have no idea what’s age appropriate.”
My grandmother’s laughter echoes between us. “And I do? I just turned seventy-four, dear. When I was six years old, dinosaurs still roamed the earth.”
I snort. “Seventy-four is not old. And you don’t look it anyway.”
I put the shirt back on the rack. I feel like the colors are too loud. When I saw the girls at Easter, they were both clad in pale pastels. Hmmm. But that could have just been an Easter thing. I know my stepmother, Nia, likes to dress them up for holidays. When I visited this past Christmas, they were in matching red dresses and cute mistletoe headbands.
Ugh. This is way too hard, which only highlights how little I know my half sisters. But I suppose that’s bound to be the result when their mother makes sure I spend as little time as possible with them. Hell, I bet if it were up to her, I wouldn’t even be joining them for the birthday celebrations next month. Poor Nia. She was probably secretly furious when her twin girls were born on my birthday. And, God, the irony of that … Dad’s new daughters born on the same day as his old one, effectively erasing me from his life and—
Silver lining! the voice in my head shouts before I sink any deeper.
Right. I draw an even breath. The silver lining of sharing a birthday with my sisters … One party instead of two. Consolidation is always a plus.
“I don’t know.” My gaze conducts another sweep of the rack of children’s clothing. “Maybe we can go to the board game store instead? The one next to the smoothie place?” Shopping for this gift has become surprisingly daunting.
Grandma and I exit the store and step into the oppressive July heat. I forgot how hot it gets down here in the summer. And what a total madhouse the main strip becomes. But I’m unbothered by both the sweltering air and the crowds. Avalon Bay isn’t just the quintessential beach town with its boardwalk, tourist shops, and annual carnival—it’s my home. I was born here. All my childhood memories are tied to this town. I could be gone for fifty years and that sense of familiarity, of belonging, would still be right here when I returned.
“When are you seeing your father?” Grandma asks as we head down the sidewalk. The air is so hot and humid that the pavement beneath our feet is practically hissing from the heat.
“Friday,” I answer. “I’m going over there for dinner. And then Saturday evening we might take the girls out somewhere. Maybe mini golf.”
“That will be fun. He wasn’t able to see you this weekend?”
Although there’s no judgment in her voice, I can’t help but come to Dad’s defense. “The girls had a whole bunch of birthday parties to attend. I guess their entire social circle is a bunch of July babies.”
And he couldn’t step away for an hour or so and take you to lunch?
Dinner?
Do the girls not have a mother who can watch them for a while?
Isn’t their bedtime eight o’clock?
All valid questions if she’d asked, but Grandma has more tact than that and knows my relationship with Dad is complicated.
In all honesty, I’m used to being an afterthought to him. For years now he’s made a concerted effort to avoid being alone with me if he can help it, grasping on to any opportunity to ensure Nia and the twins are there to serve as a buffer. I’m sure he knows I notice, but he doesn’t acknowledge what he’s doing and neither do I. And so it just keeps growing between us, this mountain of words I can’t say to him. It started off as a tiny little word hill and now it’s a peak of unspoken proportions. Thick with emotion and riddled with obstacles. Little accusations I’ll never say out loud.