Page 24 of Rebel Summer

“You act like that’s an insult.”

He smiled at that, but I refused to be affected by the sight. I had bigger fish to fry, namely the small pig not staring back at me—because it was dead and without a clue that we were about to violate its pink, wrinkly little body. “I do all the writing and our reports. You hate doing that and now you don’t have to. It is more than fair.”

“I just think my conscience won’t be able to rest knowing that I’m doing all the dirty work, and you’re only writing stuff down.”

“You can’t just pull out words like ‘conscience’ whenever you want to win an argument. I stayed up until nine the other night, working on our report, okay? I’m doing loads more work than you.”

He dropped his mouth open in shock, one hand on his cheek. “Nine?!”

I brandished the scalpel in the air in front of him, speaking slowly to the growing gleam in his eye. “Shut. Up.”

T-minus 50 days to exit

Dax hours remaining: 200

I walked home from the courthouse in a bewildered daze. My phone, however, was very on top of things. After silencing three calls from the senator, I made two of my own. One to my neighbor back in Nashville to see about watering my plants, and one to my professor over my postdoc position later this summer. I hadn’t been looking forward to that phone call, with good reason.

“You have to stay for the summer?” came the voice I had been dreading speaking to since the verdict. Kathleen was one of the department heads for mathematics at Vanderbilt. She was firm, knew her stuff, drank eight cups of coffee a day, and frequently made decisions affecting her students' lives based on her caffeine consumption. I’d seen many students leave her class in tears. I could only pray her veins were buzzing this morning.

“It’s a big misunderstanding, and I’ve been court-ordered to stay here for seven weeks to do some community service. I’ll be back in plenty of time to teach my class, but I won’t be able to help with the research I had agreed to do over the summer.” At her demand, I told her the basics of my sad story.

“Huh,” she said again, the line going silent. I heard the sound of shuffling papers. “Part of your postdoc required research this summer. You won’t be able to do that?”

“It’s not likely,” I said. If I were only working at Dax’s, I might have been able to squeeze in some research, but working at the cafe as well put a major dent in my plans.

“Let me think about a few things, and I’ll get back to you.”

I stifled my groan and said thank you before hanging up. I wasn’t sure what I wanted her to do. Call Judge Baylor, guns blazing, and force him to reconsider his punishment? The thought immediately filled me with warring guilt. I wanted to make things right. I did feel horrible about what happened. Not to mention mortified. But couldn’t I feel horrible and write a check at the same time?

Instead of going home to where my dad could find me, my feet took me on a pathway to the beach instead. There was a public access point a few streets over that led to the side of a beach that wasn’t great for families and swimming. The water was too choppy, which meant that it was a great place to sit and watch the waves and seagulls while trying to make sense of my life.

The beach was nearly empty. Every once in a while, I’d see someone running or taking a walk, but otherwise, the wind and the muggy afternoon air seemed to be enough to give me what I was craving.

The quiet. No islander judgment. And no Dax Miller.

After ten minutes, my life was still as confusing as ever, which was why, when Cat’s name came up on my phone, I answered.

“You’re here for the whole summer?” Cat’s voice squealed into the phone after I relayed my afternoon in court.

“For seven weeks.”

I put her on speaker, lay down on the sand, and filled her in on all the details. Almost all the details. For whatever reason, I had no desire to talk about Dax any more than I had to. And it had nothing to do with the fact that I knew Cat had thought Dax was cute for many years, even with my strong objections. Lots of things could be cute but still annoying.

Like cats.

“I hate how easy it’s all been for you. I’ve been trying to get Dax to notice me for years. And then you come back into town for a weekend, and bam, one criminal charge later, you get to hang out with him nonstop for two months?”

Despite myself, I laughed. “You can have him. In fact, you can take over my service hours. I’ll run the inn with your uncle.” Suddenly, that thought sounded so appealing. “Please, can we switch?”

She scoffed into the phone. “Dax would never let you get away with that. I have to know, did you guys bring up the garage while in a garage?”

“Why do you have a freakishly good memory?”

“From the second I heard it was his garage you smashed into, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the irony.”

Despite myself, I laughed. “Shut up.”

“Was it weird seeing him after so long?”

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