Page 80 of The Summer We Played Pretend

“Good,” he mimics.

“Crap, I need to text Sara to let her know I’m okay and…” I tug my phone out from my pocket and grimace as the screen remains blank. “Mom’s going to kill me.”

“She’ll just be glad you’re okay though knowing your Mom, it might be best not to mention it was Brendan’s fault. She’ll finish the job for me.” He pulls his phone out of his jeans and grins. “Looks like that protective case my Dad made me get worked a charm. He hands it over. “I’ve got Tyler’s number. Text him and tell him to get word to Sara.”

“Good idea, thanks.” I quickly tap in a brief explanation and hand the phone back to Jackson.

He starts the car and the heater hums softly, doing its best to chase away the chill that’s burrowed into my bones. I sit bundled up on the passenger seat, wrapped in his jacket. While Jackson’s hand rests on the gearshift, fingers idly tapping along to some old rock song playing low on the radio. Despite the wet clothes, my sore throat, and my chattering teeth, somehow, everything feels perfect. As if it always should have been this way. Just him and me.

Outside, the storm has dwindled to a whisper with barely a hint of its viciousness left and I glance over at him, catching the way the dim light softens his features—the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. I’m still struggling to bring myself to believe it’s happening.

He swings a look my way. “This won’t always be easy, you know.”

I nod slightly. “I know.”

“I’m going to miss you like hell when you go to college.”

I smile at the slight crack in his voice. “I’ll miss you too.”

“But we can make it work. Wewillmake it work.”

“We will,” I assure him. “We’ve just got to trust one another, okay?”

“I trust you,” he tells me. “I just didn’t trust myself.”

“Well, maybe if you just let me worry about that part, then we’ll figure the rest out together.”

His lips curve into a small, lopsided smile. He brushes a damp strand of hair from my face. “Together,” he repeats, like he’s testing the word. “Sounds perfect to me.”

As I rest my head against the cool glass window, watching the lights blur and dance outside, I picture our future together. It’s not laid out like I thought it was meant to be with Brendan. I don’t know if we’ll marry after college or settle down in Elmwood Glen, but I know it will involve Jackson and that’s all I need right now.

Epilogue

Jackson

Ishuck off my overalls and hang them on the hook before turning to glance around the garage. The tools are lined neatly on the walls, the floor is spotless, and I can hear the new hire humming tunelessly from behind a car.

“Looking good, Son.”

I turn to see my dad, coffee in hand, his smile as proud as I’ve ever seen it. Thanks to the changes we’ve made—better systems, updated equipment, and an influx of business—it’s thriving in a way neither of us expected.

“You think you’ll survive without me for a few days?” I ask, smirking as I toss my keys into the air and catch them again.

“Barely,” he grunts, though there’s no real irritation behind it. “Enjoy your time off, kid. You earned it.”

He’s right. I have. Business has been good enough for me to step back a bit—something I didn’t think I’d ever be able to do. But Chloe’s coming home for the summer, and I made a promise to myself—nothing’s more important than the time I have with her.

The thought of her brings a smile to my face as I head outside and get into the car. I drive down to the beachfront, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel and turning the air con up to full blast. When I pull up into the parking lot, I climb out and lean against my car, watching for her.

And then, there she is—walking next to Sara, wearing denim shorts and a blue tee and a little gold in her brown hair. My heart kicks up a little, the way it always does when I see her.

She notices me at the same moment Sara does. Sara says something to Chloe before turning toward her car, giving me a quick, knowing wave. I barely register it. My focus is fixed on Chloe, on the way her smile starts slow and then expands as she walks toward me. It’s only been a month since I saw her last, but somehow it feels like forever—and just like that, the wait is over.

“Hey, stranger,” she says softly when she’s close enough, her voice curling around me like the warm breeze.

“Hey,” I manage, and suddenly my hands don’t know what to do. Pockets? Out of pockets? She’s smiling at me, and my heart feels like it might explode.

“You look good,” she adds, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

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