Page 61 of The Beach Trap

“You remember.” Somehow, it makes me feel less alone to know someone else shares my memories. Even if that someone is Blake.

“Of course,” she says. “How could I forget?”

I smile and take another sip of my Truly. The conversation is getting dangerously close to a place I don’t want to go. I’m not strong enough to dive back into all the feelings of betrayal I felt that summer, so I try to think of a safe topic—something between then and now.

“So, what have you been up to the last fifteen years?” I ask.

Blake laughs but doesn’t call me out on the abrupt change of subject. I’m grateful when she starts to talk. She tells me how she went to college thanks to her grandparents’ generosity. She explains how she left school when her grandmother got sick, wanting to spend as much time with her as possible.

I can relate to that feeling and wish I had some sort of clue that the end had been near for my dad, so I could’ve known to spend more time with him. To create more good memories to counter the less-than-good ones.

Blake’s energy shifts as she tells me her grandfather hasn’t been doing well. “That’s why I want to sell the house,” she explains. “I need to get him into the memory unit at his care facility. And it isn’t cheap.”

“Wow,” I say, wondering if there’s a graceful way to apologize for misjudging her. I guess she’s not just after the money to hurt me.

“When my mom died, my grandparents took me in, no question. I kept waiting for my dad—” She pauses and looks at me. I nod in case she wants my permission to keep going. “I thought I’d just be with my grandparents for a while, that he’d come backfor me. But it never happened, obviously. Which was fine—my grandparents filled that role and then some.”

There’s bravado to Blake’s voice, and I know she doesn’t want me or anyone else feeling bad for her. And I don’t, not exactly. It sounds like she grew up in a home filled with a lot more love than our house.

“I’m sorry our dad was such an ass,” I tell her. She smiles, and I know she notices this is the first time I’ve admitted that my dad was also her dad. “If it makes you feel better, you didn’t miss out on much.”

Instantly, Blake’s smile fades and her face hardens. She bites her lip and shakes her head.

“What?” I ask, not sure what I said or did wrong. Just a second ago, it felt like there was a chance we could start being friends.

Before she can explain, her phone buzzes. Blake glances at the screen, and her lips curve into a faint smile again.

“I’m pretty tired,” she says, standing up. “I’m going to call it a night.”

I hear her say a soft “hello” into the phone as she walks back inside.

She closes the door, leaving me alone on the deck, which just a few short hours ago was buzzing with energy. Sitting out here with nothing but the moon to light the sky, I realize everybody has somebody but me. Henry has Sunny. Blake has her mystery guy. And I’ve got a half-empty can of Truly.

“Happy Independence Day,” I say, raising my can before taking a sip.

I honestly wonder why everyone cares so much about being independent. I for one like it much better when I’m not on my own.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

BLAKE

I’m officially exhausted. It took three days to clean the Rooneys’ house after they left, then today I stained the wood floor at my beach house. I can’t walk on it for twenty-four hours, so I’m back at the casita watching YouTube videos about how to install a tile backsplash. Even though it’s only eight o’clock in the evening, I keep nodding off. I’m about to get in my pajamas and go to bed early when a knock startles me.

I open the door to see Noah, and my stomach flips.

“Hey!” I say. “You’re back in town.”

I’m trying hard not to appear too giddy—although that’s exactly how I feel. All those days of increasingly flirty texting have left me horny as hell. And now here he is in the flesh, leaning against the doorframe, all six foot five inches of him, dressed in his typical threadbare T-shirt and shorts, with a smirk on his face.

“How’s my puffball after his traumatic fireworks incident?” Noah asks, peering around the door to look into the casita.

I laugh. Of course he’s mostly concerned about the dog.

“He’s good. Actually, I took him to get groomed today and itdidn’t cost extra to let him stay at the doggy daycare and play, so I left him there for a few hours. They said he had an amazing time, made lots of friends, and now he’s all tuckered out.”

So tired, in fact, that at the sound of Noah’s voice, all he does is raise his head and give a few weak wags of his tail before falling back asleep.

Noah chuckles. “Want to hang out?”

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