Page 78 of The Summer of Everything

“No.” Wes shakes his head, curls flinging water everywhere. “I need your helpsavingthe bookstore.”

“Why?”

“Why?!” Wes shouts. Stress and anger and confusion have compromised his brain function. “Because it’s my home. It’s an institution. Because it’s what I want.”

“Life isn’t always about what wewant,” Leo says so matter-of-factly that Wes can’t believe this is the guy Leeann’s marrying. “Sometimes, it’s about what’s best.”

“What’s best is keeping Once Upon a Page open,” Wes snarls.

“Is it?”

Wes stares at the ocean. He knows what he has to do and he hates it.

“I have some of the paperwork. Emails mostly. Can you,” he pauses, the rise of acid in his throat making his eyes water. “Can youpleaselook them over? Dig into some of the legal stuff? Help us possibly get a permit to do an event near the pier?”

Leo blinks at him.

“Not for me,” Wes quickly appends. “For Mrs. Rossi.”

Leo’s eyebrows are pinched. He’s considering. “I’ll try,” he says, sighing dramatically. Before Wes can form a smile, Leo adds, “But no promises.”

Wes will take whatever he can get from Leo.

Head lowered, Leo digs his toes in the sand. “I can’t believe you asked Leeann to get in touch with me.”

Wes slumps at the disappointment layering Leo’s voice. “Yeah, uh.” He doesn’t know how to reply.

“You could’ve called me.”

“We don’t call each other,” Wes reminds him.

“Then text.”

“Leo, I…” Words sink under the noise of the crashing waves. What is Wes going to say? That Leo isn’t that far from the Calvin side of the Hudson tree? That talking to him, whether electronically or in person, has become this mountain that Wes doesn’t possess the skills to climb?

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, because he needs Leo’s help.

“Whatever.” Leo elbows Wes again. “Leeann’s very persuasive about these things. She’s going to make a great Hudson.”

“We don’t deserve her.”

“We don’t.”

Leo stands, straining to reach back and unzip his wetsuit. He manages, then dusts sand off his hands. Wes stands too, feeling awkward, like being the only one seated while the rest of the room is giving someone a standing ovation.

“How’s Nico?” Leo says out of nowhere.

A squeaky noise escapes Wes’s throat. He turns his head, cheeks warm with embarrassment. “Uh.”

“What’d you do?” Leo asks, accusingly.

“Nothing,” snaps Wes, but it’s a lie.

Leo’s skeptical expression unnerves him.

“It’s nothing. We’re just…”

Not talking. Or we are talking, but in texts and weak smiles at the bookstore and not at all in the cuddly, playing video games, and laughing at the stupidest things-way. We’re two aliens from different planets learning a new language.

---