Page 44 of Only Some Stars Fall

The Millers are long-time summer guests. They mostly keep to themselves, but John Miller goes out fishing all day, every day, for the entire three weeks they stay with us. His wife, Norma, sits out on their cabin’s deck playing solitaire most days. She’s the sweetest lady, who loves to chat and show off pictures of her grandchild, but this past winter, she brokeher hip, making it hard for her to get to the main house as often on her own. The staff would gladly escort her to the lodge whenever she wanted, but Maine women are too stubborn to ask for help. Plus, the mere idea that she might inconvenience someone by asking for help? What a horror.

I don’t respond, staring at the sandwich in my hands. “All I’m saying is there is something more to her. She seems like one of those chicks who, when they fall in love, they fall hard, dude, you know?” Kenny tries to coax me.

“Who said anything about love?” The word sparks a defensive reaction in me I wasn’t expecting.

“Really, dude, look at her, look at you? Not to mention when you walk into a room, the tension between the two of you knocks the rest of us on our asses.” It’s meant to be a joke, but when he looks directly at my face, he stops laughing.

“She’s going to leave, Ken,” I barely whisper. He can hear the emotion in my voice and looks away to give me some privacy.

We don’t talk much after that, finishing our sandwiches in silence and then heading back up on the roof. The cabin is small. In fact, structurally, it’s identical to mine, and we get the whole thing reshingled by late afternoon.

As we pick up the debris and load it into the back of my truck, Kenny asks, “Any idea when you’re going to tackle the inside? I know you were hoping to have it rentable for snowmobilers this coming season.”

I take a deep breath. Going in there is the last thing I want to do. My dad’s been nagging me about it for a while now. I know he’s been inside some, patching holes and making sure no wildlife has moved in. But all ofhisstuff is still in there, just how he left it: ransacked, destroyed, and abandoned.

“I’m only asking because I have a few days left if you wantsome help. I know you’re dreading it, but if we got it done, you might finally feel a bit of relief.”

“I’ll think about it.” My tone is clipped as I shut the tailgate and remove my hat to wipe the sweat from my forehead. Relief isn’t something I am ever going to feel when it comes to Storm.

I have about forty-five minutes before my shift starts at the bar, giving me just enough time to take a quick shower and get Birch settled in for the night if I get a move on. I whistle for him, and he emerges lazily from underneath the deck, stretching out his back legs one at a time before jumping into the truck. I thank Kenny for his help and offer him dinner and drinks on the house tonight if he swings by the bar.

Forty-seven minutes later,I am getting out of my truck in the main lodge parking lot. Even with the supposed rain coming, the heat is currently still insufferable. Maybe pre-rain humidity is making the air oppressive. I lean across my front seat, grab my black Anderson’s T-shirt and hat, and slip the shirt over my freshly washed torso. I push my wet, overgrown hair out of my eyes and slide the baseball cap on backward. As I slam the truck door, I curse myself for being late. Then, I hear a familiar voice approaching behind me.

“Why hello, stranger.” Ashlee is walking across the pavement dressed in a short blue tennis skirt and matching tank top, the same color as her eyes. Sweat glistens off her exposed upper chest, and a tennis racket hangs from her right hand.

“Training for the Olympics, are we now?” I ask as I lean in to hug her.

“You know, I never planned on it, but after meeting the tennis coach you guys have staying here, I’d consider it.” She looks over her shoulder in the direction of our tennis courts,then back to me, and raises one eyebrow while biting her bottom lip.

I heard the tennis pro staying with us this year is young. Our activities director couldn’t book him until mid-July, and I still have yet to meet him. I’m sure it didn’t take him long to notice Ashlee. It’s pretty much impossible not to, and it would explain why she’s been absent from a lot of the recent parties.

“How have you been?” She eyes me suspiciously. “You seem different, maybe even a little lighter?”

“Nope, still weighing in at two hundred and twenty pounds the last time I checked.” I smirk, knowing damn well that’s not what she meant. She rolls her pretty eyes at me.

“But if you were referring to mymood, I’m still pretty damn grumpy.” I pause, but she continues to stare me down, still waiting for what she wants.

I let out a dramatic sigh. “If you must know, for the first time in a while, I do feel pretty good. The reasons for that scare me to hell, but I don’t care and am going to keep on doing it against my better judgment.” I pause, turning serious.

Ashlee keeps looking up at me with that doe-y gaze.

“Look, I’m sorry I haven’t checked in, things have just been chaotic, but I haven’t meant to be a shit friend. I am just trying to figure my stuff out.” Now, I look her in the eyes, hoping she knows I mean it. Ashlee has been one of my closest summer friends since we were kids. I’ve missed confiding in her over the last few weeks, although I realize I don’t miss sleeping with her.

“No need to apologize. We always had the rule that if our hooking up started to interfere with us developing real feelings for someone else, we would be honest with each other. Since you and Everly went looking for Big Earl that night, you did just that. Honestly, I am happy it’s worked out that way. I never thought it would happen, but there is also something aboutFelixthat is keeping me intrigued, so it’s good timing for us both.”

“Felix?”

Ashlee slaps my arm. “The tennis pro, you ass. Maybe you are a crap friend.” She laughs as I open the screen door to the bar for her, gesturing for her to walk in before me, like the gentleman I am.

TWENTY-ONE

EVERLY

“Why are we running again?”I puff out short breaths as we jog down one of the endless dirt roads.

“Because it’s August, classes start soon, and we need to get back in shape,” Alex yells as she slaps my butt.

First of all, I have never been, nor will I ever be, a runner. Second, Alex has run every day we’ve been here, so her reasons for dragging me out here the minute I got home from Hux’s are complete BS. I have to admit that even though my lungs are burning and my legs feel like they are about to seize up, I’m not hating it.

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