Page 66 of These Summer Storms

She could have sworn he laughed, but the sound was swept out to sea before she could be sure. What she was sure of, however, was that he was watching her—she could feel his eyes on her, hot and focused, as she collected two pieces of sea glass and another perfect sphere of a rock. Time and silence stretched between them, and she grew more and more aware of him. Was he noticing the way her wet shorts clung to her? The way her white T-shirt showed—she looked down—pretty much everything?

She did not have the ridges he had, but at least she was wearing a decent bra.

Hyperawareness consumed her, making her question everything. When the tide started coming back in this time, what would she do? The path wasn’t as easy now as it had been when she was a kid. When she got back to the house, there would be a different test. Questions. Where had she been? Should she pretend she hadn’t spent the day with Jack? Or tell her family the truth? How would she respond to the other question—Why?

Because he asked,didn’t seem like enough.

Because he wanted to fuck me that one time,was definitely too much. Would she ever forget he said that? Definitely not. But it wasn’t relevant. At least not to her family.

Because I wanted to get the hell out of here.The truth.

“Why does everyone think you’re going to leave?”

The question broke into the cacophony of her thoughts, and Alice couldn’t help the surprise that flared when she realized Jack had somehow followed them. She shouldn’t have been, of course. That was what he was paid for—to know what everyone was thinking.

She shrugged. “I’m the only one who ever has.”

He watched her carefully. “Not enough reasons to stay?”

“There are a few hundred million of them, I hear,” she said, unable to keep the sarcasm from her words.

“It’s not nothing,” he said.

“It isn’t—”

“Alice. Please don’t say the money doesn’t matter.”

“I wasn’t going to,” she replied. “Of course the money matters. If my father were an accountant or a carpenter or a teacher, do you think we’d all be here, playing his stupid game?” She paused, but he didn’t take the bait, forcing her to continue. “Do you think you would be here? Feeling like you owed him for some perceived generosity ten years ago?” She didn’t wait for him to argue about the truth of his debt. “If he were any of those things, it wouldallbe different. But he was Franklin Storm, trailblazing genius, beloved for his vast influence, prized for his brilliance, forgiven for his faults, and renowned for his unwillingness to fail.”

She was on a roll now. “Franklin Storm, force of nature. Unstoppable. And who would want to stop him? He was changing the world.”

“He did change the world.”

“Yeah. I know.” She couldn’t keep the snark from her voice. “It was hard to miss.”

“Do you resent that?”

“What’s the value of that? It would be like resenting the color of your hair or the air you breathe,” she tried to explain. “My father’ssuccess was just…there. Like the ocean. It was all we ever knew.” She paused. “Well, except my mom. She probably resents his success.”

“She didn’t leave, though.” He left the second part unsaid.Not like you.

“I wasn’t going to say the money didn’t matter,” she said, defensively. “I was going to say it isn’t enough.”

His brows rose, but he stayed quiet. She looked back to the shore, desperate for something to distract from the conversation. A small crab trundled along in the shallow water, unable to stop itself from being clumsily tossed around.

Same, crab.

She spoke to the little blue creature. “The money can’t give me what I want.”

“And what is that?”

“I’m not proud of it,” she whispered.

“Good thing I’m not interested in judging it.”

She believed him, and maybe that was why it was so easy for her to say, “They didn’t care when I left. They were surprised to see me the day after he died—like they’d forgotten about me. And now…”

He nodded. “Now, they only want you to stay because there’s money in it for them.”

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