Page 104 of Perfectly Grumpy

A low distant rumble echoes across the sky, and Olivia looks at the dark clouds rolling in as the sun begins to go down.

“That sounds ominous,” she says, rising from her chair. “I think I’ll head inside. You coming?”

I shake my head. “Not yet.” My sister leaves me on the patio for a few minutes before somebody brushes my arm. When I turn around, Tate is standing behind me.

“I thought you hated storms,” he says as a few droplets start to fall.

“I do, but I’ve always found the calm before the storm to be good for thinking.”

He sits next to me, like he’s not in a hurry to go inside either. “What are you thinking about?”

“I can’t tell you,” I say, spinning my ring absently. “I promised my sister.”

He nods. “Oh, so we’ve reached the point in our relationship where you’re at least telling me you have a secret?”

I laugh and poke his arm. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

A low rumble fills the air, and the rains starts to fall harder, so we both push our chairs under the porch roof so we can watch the rainstorm without getting soaked.

When I look up, Dad and Patty appear at the edge of the wooded path, Dad holding his jacket over Patty’s head to shield her from the light rain that’s just started. He’s laughing at something Patty said as they hurry toward the house, their shoulders bumping together in a comfortable way that reminds me of how he used to be with Mom.

My instinct is to look away, to avoid witnessing this intimate moment between them. But something stops me this time. The way Dad is looking at the woman next to him—he seems different, more alive than he’s been this entire year. There’s color in his cheeks again and he can’t stop smiling.

Maybe Tate was right. Maybe Dad can love Mom and still find room in his heart for someone new. The thought doesn’t sting as much as it would have a few days ago.

Dad sees me sitting on the patio and makes a point to come over. “There’s my championship hide-and-seek winner,” he sayswith pride. “That was some strategy you two pulled off today.” He glances back toward the path that leads to the cabin. “Tate, you might want to check your cabin when you get back.”

“Is there a problem?” Tate asks, suddenly alert.

“When we hiked past it, the door was wide open,” Dad says. “Looked like someone had been inside.”

Tate looks concerned. “But I didn’t leave it open.”

“Are you sure?” Dad says.

“Positive,” Tate says. “I always double-check the lock.”

A cold feeling settles in my stomach. “It’s not like there’s anything worth stealing, right?” I say, trying not to think the worst.

Tate’s face drains of color. “My computer,” he says, rising so abruptly the chair scrapes against the patio. “I left it on the table. All my work is on there.”

Before I can even respond, he’s already sprinting toward the woods, disappearing between the trees.

“Work?” Dad asks, looking confused. “I thought you were both on vacation.”

I stare after Tate, a strange uneasiness washing over me. “I thought we were too.”

THIRTY-FOUR

Tate

I’m not thinking straight as I run to the cabin through a rainstorm. One second, I’m enjoying a relaxed moment with Lauren—feeling like this is the type of family I’d love to be part of—and the next, I’m terrified that the book I’ve been working on since college might be gone.

It’s not like leaving a door open doesn’t happen. But this time?Thiswas deliberate. Because I not only shut the door, I locked it. Not that it wouldn’t be an easy lock to pick since the cabin is as old as Moses. But someone messed with it, and I’m pretty sure I know who.

“Why are you so worried?” Lauren asks, running after me, both of us getting drenched.

I can’t tell her the truth—not yet, not like this. How do I explain that everything I dream about beyond hockey, is on that computer?

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