Page 56 of Fault Lines
I thought about the house, empty and echoing. The city made sense, but part of me wanted to stuff it all and run away here, fill the little cabin with love and books and maybe a few dogs. But Cam loved his job. And, deep down, I liked mine—the friends I’d made, the morning rituals, Mr. Porter’s kindness. The thought of leaving Nate and Rachel behind made something ache inside me. No, the city was home, for now.
The rental kiosk was mobbed. A snaking line of tourists, sunscreened and eager, trailed out across the dock.
“We may not be jet skiing today,” I said, eyeing the crowd.
“Should’ve left earlier,” Cam grumbled, but there was no heat in it.
We found ourselves behind a couple who looked barely old enough to rent a car, never mind a jet ski. They were whispering and giggling, hands always finding each other.
The girl spun around and beamed at us. “Hi! Are you guys here for jet skis too?”
“We were hoping to,” I replied, “but it’s not looking good.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” she laughed. “I’m April—and this is Jake.”
I shook Jake’s hand when he offered it, “Olivia. This is Cam, my husband.”
The men shook hands, the grip stiff and competitive for half a second.
Jake leaned in conspiratorially. “If I’d known it was like this, I’d have come earlier. This is our first time out here. You?”
“We’ve been here before,” I said, gesturing up the path. “Cam’s dad owns a cabin just up there. We needed a break from the city.”
“Nice! Bet you save a bundle not having to rent. Prices are nuts!” Jake said, eyes wide.
April elbowed him. “Don’t be rude.”
He grinned. “Was I? You don’t mind, do you man?”
Cam shrugged. “It’s true. We do save a ton.”
Jake crowed, triumphant. “Told you, babe.”
At last they reached the cashier, who informed them only two jet skis remained. Cam and I exchanged a look.
“Guess we’ll have to find something else to do,” Cam said, resigned.
But April turned, her eyes bright. “Why don’t we share?”
The cashier was looking at us expectantly now.
“I don’t really like driving them,” April said, “so I’ll just ride with Jake if you two want the other one.”
I looked at Cam. “That work for you?”
He nodded, already pulling out his wallet to pay.
“Thanks,” he said, meaning it.
“No problem,” Jake said. “Can’t complain about my lovely wife pressed up against me all afternoon, can I?”
Cam actually laughed, a real, deep sound, and I couldn’t help smiling, too.
In that one thing, at least, he wasn’t wrong at all: April was a stunner.
She and Jake both seemed pretty close in age to us, maybe younger by a year or two. April’s auburn hair curled just so, loose waves settling on her shoulders. Jake looked like the poster childfor an alumni magazine: eyes the shade of summer sky, blond hair cropped and styled, preppy and clean. In college, he’d have been the golden boy.
We finished our purchase and headed together toward the lake, the men peeling off to collect our jet skis. April and I trailed behind, a little awkwardly at first.
