Page 112 of Until Next Summer

Luke is awake, too. He’s on his side facing me, his arm tucked under his head. In the dim light he’s fuzzy, indistinct.

“Hey,” I say quietly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” His voice is raspy with sleep. “I’ve been dreading this for months, bracing myself for it. So now that it’s happened…I wouldn’t say it’s a relief. But at least it’s over.” He shifts his weight. “Thank you for staying.”

I swallow, not sure how to take this. “No problem.”

He exhales. “There is a problem, though.”

“What?”

“I don’t think I can keep pretending I’m not crazy about you.”

His words hang in the space between us, the air thickening with tension until I break eye contact and shake my head, exasperated.

“What does that even mean?” I say. “You’re the one who said you ‘shouldn’t get involved with anyone.’ You’re the one who pulled away—”

“The other day in the woods?” he finishes, and I nod. Maybe my eyes are getting used to the darkness, or it’s getting ever so slightly lighter outside, but I can make out his features now. The groove between his eyebrows. His pouty bottom lip. “Your friends needed you. And I assumed you needed them, too. It seemed wrong to kiss you when you were so emotional. But I wanted to.”

I wanted to kiss you, too, I think. I want to kiss him now. But I’m wary; he could pull back at any moment.

Silence stretches between us again until he shakes his head and chuckles, almost to himself. It’s nice to hear the sound, after yesterday.

“What’s funny?” I ask.

“I’m remembering that first email exchange, when you said I couldn’t stay in the cabin by myself—”

“You were so rude,” I say, a smile tugging at my lips.

“I know. And you were unfailingly kind in return. I’m sorry—after I got your email about the adult camp, I became fixated on the idea of Scout having her last months here. I didn’t want anyone else around to bother her.”

I raise my eyebrows, surprised. “You said you ‘required privacy’ for writing. I thought you were a pretentious asshole.”

“I am an asshole,” he says dryly, “but hopefully not the pretentious kind. I can write anywhere—I mean, I needed a place to stay, so coming here made sense, and I wanted my dog to be somewhere that would make her happy. Scout loved places like this, with trees and squirrels and lakes. I figured she deserved it after years of living whereIwanted. So thank you for that. Really.”

My chest warms. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you came.”

“Me too. And not just for Scout.” He pauses, licks his lips. “Being here, spending time with you, it’s been…”

He trails off.

I nudge him with my foot under the covers, grinning. “What? Terrifying?”

His eyes lock onto mine. “Yes.”

A shiver runs down my spine. “Why?”

Outside, the rain has increased, wrapping us in a rhythmic cocoon of sound. He shifts toward me, and I feel his hand on my thigh, just above my knee, his fingertips grazing my skin.

“I was a fucking mess when I got here. My writing career, my divorce, my dying dog…I’ve been stuck in a self-pitying spiral—and here’s this gorgeous, outgoing woman who is bound and determined to pull me out of it.”

“But why was that terrifying?”

His fingers run up my thigh, stopping at the hem of my T-shirt. My eyes drift closed. His touch is featherlight, but somehow my skin is burning. Even though I’m tempted to roll toward him, I hold still, and his hand runs back down tomy knee, his fingers curling around to stroke the soft skin behind it.

A sigh escapes my lips. My eyes are still closed—I’m convinced that if I open them, I’ll see that sardonic smile on his face and realize he’s toying with me. Trying to see how worked up he can get me before pulling away again.

His hand moves to my hip, gently turning me so I’m on my side, facing him.

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