Page 79 of One Billion Reasons

“No. I know every road out here.” I shake my head and keep my eyes on the road. I turn left at the intersection, towards the house, instead of toward Montauk village. Just a few hundred feet down, I slow.

“That’s the tree where Liam crashed.” I jerk my chin to the sparse oaks at the side of the road, and Lane sits up straight. “It’s just a stump now. They had to cut it down. It cracked in the crash.”

“He must have hit it really hard,” she whispers. Her words sound a little choked.

“Do you want to stop?”

She shakes her head. “Keep going. I don’t want to linger here. Besides, Liam is fine. You saved his life.”

“I didn’t save his life. I almost killed him. My stupid decisions caused everything to go wrong.” I pause. “I should have been there for my dad.” My hands tighten on the wheel.

“There was nothing you could have done. You know that.” Lane is looking at me intently while I approach the house. “I hate that you blame yourself.”

“I know. I’m trying not to.”

The house comes into view, and she makes a happy sound. The sight of it fills a void inside me that I didn’t know existed. It’s cedar-shingled, like the hotel, grey-brown now with age. The property is sprawling, since my parents bought up the lots to the east. Massive oaks frame a gravel drive. The hedge is overgrown now, and the plant life is slightly sinister in the dark.

We get out of the car, and Lane sighs.

“The air smells different here, I swear.”

I take a deep lungful. “You might be right.” We’re right on the water, just a hundred feet down the wooden path and five steps to the beach.

“Gosh, I love it here.” Lane’s face is tipped up to admire the house. The moonlight caresses her face, makes her eyes look even bigger.

“Me too,” I murmur, watching her take in the house and the view.

“Let’s go explore. I want to see if that stump we carved our names into still exists.”

We set off through the woods on the west side of the property, where there’s just a thin strip of land that belongs to my family.

“There’s a cottage here now.” Lane points, and I turn.

“Must be part of the sale.” It’s small and white-washed, with a garden and a neat yard. “Catherine’s family must have built it to increase the property value.”

Lane slows. “Is the stump part of the sale too?”

“It’s right over there.” I point, and we make our way over, our feet crunching through the leaves. “Based on the location, I’d say yes. The treehouse is gone now, but it was maybe fifty feet away.”

“You’re right.” She crouches and traces her fingers over the bark. “L+L+M.” She looks up at me with a faint smile. “Remember you wanted to carve it into a live tree, but Liam said no?”

“He’s a real environmentalist, that guy.”

“I hope you can buy the property.” She rises up, and her eyes are uncertain. “I can’t imagine Mark owning this. But if he does, I want to come back and take the stump.” Her mouth is set, and I bark a laugh.

“The whole thing?”

“No, duh. Just a piece. Or something. Or maybe the whole thing.” She makes a face. “That guy sucks.”

She sneaks an arm around my waist as we walk back, and I tuck her in close, even though it’s harder to walk like this.

“What happened to the tree house?”

“It decayed, eventually. Liam and I tried to use it one summer. We had some misguided notion that we’d have it as a secret lair, away from my parents and annoying girls.” I squeeze her side. “But it wasn’t safe. It was glorious at age twelve, though. I loved going up there with my comic books. And later, my Game Boy. Eventually, with Playboy magazine. Sorry. Boys are gross. You didn’t need to know that.”

Lane laughs, and the sound fills my chest.

“I’m glad we came back.”

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