Page 8 of The Summer I First Saw You
If I wasn’t hungover, I’d probably laugh. Instead, the pounding in my head worsens. “Look, you can stay for a few days until this thing with your mom blows over. But I’m going to do exactly what I fucking want to, and you’re going to stay out of the ocean and also out of my hair as much as possible until that happens.”
“You seem to be forgetting something,” she says with a saccharine smile. “I’ve got you by the balls.”
“Excuse me?”
She picks up her phone and pretends to dial a number. “Hey, Liam? Yeah, I’m with Harrison, and I’m super worried. He’s not eating, he’s drunk all the time, and he’s been lying to you guys about this supposed girlfriend in LA. Get everyone down here, and tell Audrey too.”
My eyes narrow. She’s hit upon theultimatelast thing I want: Audrey learning I’m here in a cocoon of self-pity. Audrey feeling vindicated by the way she’s come out on top while I’m barely surviving.
“I already said you could stay,” I bark. “What more do you want?”
Her smile grows delighted, in a deeply evil sort of way. “I’m still figuring that out. All I know is it’s going to be super fun. Get all the drinking out of your system because you’re cut off after today.”
My head jerks toward her. “What?”
“You heard me. Drink all the booze you’ve got. But I want the old, sober Harrison back tomorrow, ready to do my bidding.”
The towel has slipped off her shoulders. I get a flash ofample cleavage just as she says the wordsready to do my biddingin that husky voice of hers.
Fuck my life.
“You can never tell Liam you stayed with me,” I say.
Her eyes roll. “Well, I thought that was obvious. I mean, I couldn’t explain how I blackmailed you without ruining everything.”
“Yeah, I just—” I search for a way to say this delicately. “If it came out, it would look really bad.”
Because everyone would think we were sleeping together. And now her gaze is meeting mine, and we’re both thinking about it too, simultaneously.Fuck.
“Everyone would think you were the luckiest man in the world,” she says.
Yeah, probably. I’m not touching that one. “Your uncle wouldn’t. Neither would your mom.”
Her mouth curves into a smile. Maybe she’s noticed that I didn’t actually deny what she said, but how the fuck could I? I mean, look at her—
Stop, Harrison.
For the love of God, stop looking at her and stop thinking about how she’s changed.
I will walk away—as soon as I’m able. And then I’m going to avoid her until I’ve figured out how to get her the fuck out of my home.
6
DAISY
My muscles hurt. My ligaments hurt. I’m pretty sure even my blood hurts. I’d forgotten that surfing is the kind of sport you’re supposed to work up to. I’d forgotten that it’s been four years since paddling as if my life depended on it and popping up were daily occurrences. But it’s a good kind of pain—the kind that reminds me I’m alive instead of making me wish I wasn’t. That other pain is still inside me, not entirely healed, and I resent that it’s there. My ex doesn’t deserve to be something that continues to hurt me now.
Once upon a time, I was this pitcher of joy, a pitcher men drank from in small sips and long gulps. But Christian…he emptied it. He emptied it and then smashed that pitcher to make sure it couldn’t hold anything again.
I attempt to rise from bed and groan. “Harrison,” I call, “my blood hurts.”
I’m met with silence, which I mostly expected. He’s gone by the time I get downstairs. Only a coffee cup in the sink indicates he’s even been here since we spoke yesterday.
I shuffle toward the deck and proceed through my exercises. The push-ups are excruciating and when I jump up after eachburpee, I barely get an inch of air, but they must be done. Without this, who knows what I’ll give up next? Maybe I’ll stop getting out of bed again, maybe I’ll stop showering, maybe I’ll spin a web of lies about my life every time my mother calls—though I suppose I’m already doing the last bit. I lied to her all year, and now I’m going to have to juggle those lies while I throw in a few more.
When I’m done with the exercises, I wander into the kitchen and grab one of the protein bars I brought with me. Did Harrison even eat? There’s no food in the house, and in the two days I’ve been here, I haven’t seen him consume a single thing but coffee and bourbon.
Most women wouldn’t complain. This diet of booze and irritation he’s on has starved him down toVersace underwear modelhot, but I prefer the more substantial version of him, the one I used to imagine pinning me to a bed, immobilizing me with his weight. Of course, he’s still well over six feet, so he could immobilize me now easily too.
