Page 61 of More With You

“Please, Vas.” I have nothing else in the tank.

He just shakes his head. “My hands are tied.”

“Don’t kick me out, Vas. Don’t. I’ve always paid my rent on time, I don’t cause trouble, I’ve increased the value of the cottage with my redecorating, and… I love this place. Please.” I hear the shrill desperation in my voice, and I hate that the DuCates have turned me into this.

He smiles sadly. “It’s done, Summer. I’m sorry.”

Clearly feeling guilty, he walks toward the gate. I run after him, prompting him to close the gate between us so I can’t drag him back in my state of panic. He pauses there, his hand on the salt-warped wood, and there’s genuine remorse in his eyes. But what’s the use of that if he’s not going to do anything about it?

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, before heading up the dirt trail to the road, where he’ll walk the ten minutes to his gigantic mansion and forget all about the little impoverished nobody who loves this cottage more than anything. When I first arrived here, it saved me, and though I’ve only lived here a short time, it feels like I’ve been here forever. Like I was always meant to be here.

I fall to my knees, not having the energy to remain standing. Crossing my hands over each other and resting my forehead on them, I give into the sobs and the tears that I’ve been holding back since the casino… maybe longer, if I’m being honest. I should’ve known it was all too good to last. I should’ve known that someone like me could never make a life for themselves here, with nice things and a paradise to call her own.

* * *

“Summer?”

Sitting on the grass, my back to the broken fence, my head buried in the peaks of my knees which are tucked up to my chest, I know who’s speaking without having to look up.

“Summer, what’s wrong?” Ben’s arms are around me, and he’s telling Grace to, “go play on the porch.”

Grace crouches down in front of me, trying to peer through my knee blockade. “Did you hurt yourself?” she whispers. “I have Band-Aids. I’ll bring them. They have Winnie-the-Pooh on them. That’s a funny word. Why is a bear a poo?”

“Good thinking, Grace. You go and get those Band-Aids,” Ben urges, and I see Grace get up and skip down the trail to the side-gate. The porch door is open, so she’ll be able to get inside without a key.

“It’s over, Ben,” I murmur, covering my head with my hands. “It’s all over.”

Ben hugs me to him, trying to get me to look his way. “What’s going on, Summer? I thought you were working today. Are you sick?”

“In a way, but your mom and dad and Levi are the disease,” I reply bitterly.

Ben’s voice changes, laced with apprehension. “What happened, Summer?”

From the darkness of the hiding place that I’ve made for myself, I tell him everything about the hellish morning I’ve had. He listens without interruption, holding me tight the entire time, his lips pressing to my hair.

“I guess they’re not stupid,” I conclude. “They didn’t go after Grace or you. They went after me, instead, and now I’ve got two choices: scrape together a deposit for a new place that I’ll probably hate and try to find anyone in this town who’ll hire me, though I’m certain your mom and dad will put an end to that as soon as I get a shift somewhere. Or, I take the job in Milwaukee.”

Ben nudges my chin upward, so I’m forced to look at him. There’s anger and sorrow in his eyes and his eyelids are twitching, like he can’t contain either emotion. “You can’t leave, Summer. Don’t let them win.”

“What else can I do? They’ll make sure I can’t work in this town. If they can manipulate a freaking oil baron into kicking me out, getting the rest of the town to refuse to hire me will be a walk in the park. Ms. T might be the exception, but she can’t afford to hire me,” I explain tearfully, seeing our future in tatters. Long distance can work, sometimes, but I can’t imagine him in Wisconsin. Can’t imagine myself there again, either.

At that moment, Grace clambers up the fence behind us, scaring us both. Neither of us heard her approaching.

“Are you going away?” she asks quietly: her lower lip trembling. In her hand, she’s holding one of her Winnie-the-Pooh Band Aids. The trouble is, it’s not big enough to cover all the bruises and cuts I’ve taken this morning.

I force a smile. “Some very mean people aren’t being very nice to me, Grace, and they don’t want me to be here anymore.”

“Is it me? Have I been mean? I promise I’ll eat my breakfast tomorrow! I promise!” she cries, tears spilling down her cheeks.

It’s true that we had our first bit of tension this morning, when she refused to eat the toast and jam that I made for her. I might’ve been a little bit short with her and I regret it now. I think we both do.

“It’s not you,” I assure her, turning to pull her over the fence and into my lap. “You could never be mean, Grace.”

Grace wraps her arms around my neck, searching my face until she’s almost nose-to-nose with me. “Then why are you going? We’ll talk to the mean people.”

“I don’t think they’ll listen, Grace,” I say with a sigh. “They don’t like me being around your daddy, and they want me to go away for a very long time. Forever, maybe.”

Grace shakes her head wildly. “You can’t! I’ll save you, Summer. We can feed them pizza. Then, they’ll be your friends.”

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