Page 34 of The Summer I Destroyed You

And there’s a small wound, right at the place where my heart would be if I had one. Some pathetic part of me still wants the things he does—to count on someone, to be able to lean every once in a while—no matter how hard I try to shut the urge down.

Also a bummer? That there’s apparently no chance of turning my final weeks in Elliott Springs into banging the hot contractor weeks.

“You’d better clear out all the Dior lipstick and expensive conditioner from your home before you find her then,” I say quietly.

“It’s my niece’s.”

I roll my eyes. “This is as bad as your endlessly dying grandmas. Is your niece the little kid who owns those shorts you gave me or an adult wearing a twenty-five-dollar lipstick, because I doubt she’s both?”

He gives me a half smile. “Both. I helped take care of her a lot when she was little because my sister was single. And then she basically moved in here for the last few years of high school because she hates my sister’s husband.”

The evidence of Liam’s good side is growing disproportionately. It would have been enough that he scolded my mom for talking about my weight. It would have been enough that he was kind to Snowflake and is willing to restore Lucas Hall at cost. But he also doesn’t sleep around, didn’t fuck Julie into agreeing to crappy tiles, woke before dawn to save stores from flooding, kept me from getting washed off the road, and helped raise his niece.

There’s an uncomfortable twinge in my chest. It’s possible that the only villain in this car is me.

“You know the problem with your Lucas Hall plan?” I ask.

“That my competitor has billions of dollars and can offer to build the mayor a park while I cannot?”

I’m not sure how he knows about the park—I’d have thought the mayor would keep that quiet. “Well, none of that works in your favor,” I reply, “but the real issue is that you’re not giving people what they want. Lucas Hall just sitting there doesn’t benefit anyone. It doesn’t raise property values; it doesn’t bring in tourists. It maintains the status quo and humans are wired to hate the status quo. We’d never evolve if we didn’t.”

“I know,” he replies, crossing over the bridge, where water is rushing freely. Thank God he stopped me from driving home. “I had a different plan but it didn’t work out.”

I cock my head. “What was your plan? No, wait—let me guess. Lucas Hall as some lame museum about the town?”

He narrows his eyes at me. “It wasn’t going to entirely be a museum.”

I laugh, delighted with myself. “I knew it.”

“I was going to make it a hotel,” he says. “A hotel that featured some of the history of the town in the lobby and hallways. We’d keep the ballroom and offer it freely for all the traditional events the town holds.”

My laughter fades. It’s a really good idea. It would have brought in money without ruining the town’s character. “Why didn’t you do it?”

“I couldn’t secure the kind of loan I needed. I thought I had it, but when I fell last winter, my investors backed out and the bank said I was no longer a good risk.”

I’m trying to convince myself he’d have failed before he’s finished the sentence. “A plan like that takes a long time to pull together—”

“I started working on it two years ago,” he says quietly, cutting me off. “I thought I’d have longer.”

Two years. He put two years into this, and that little phone call I placed to the Santa Clara Office of Building Inspection last winter ruined it all.

Yes, I’m definitely the villain of his story, and he, as of yet, has no clue. I’d at least offer him a “sorry I ruined all your hopes and dreams” blow job, but he’s apparently not interested in receiving one from me.

He pulls into my mother’s driveway and I hesitate before I reach for the door.

“You asked once what I do for fun,” I say quietly. “I guess this was pretty fun.”

He holds my gaze for a half second and then he smiles. “You’re saying it was the best morning of your life, then, and the best meal you’ve ever had?”

I climb out of his truck. “Slow down, yard boy. It was stir-fry.”

His stir-fry wasn’t great.

But yeah, it was a pretty good morning. Maybe even one of the best.

* * *

My mother is on the phone talking about Harold when I walk in, clearly irritated by the noise as I start on dinner and talk to Snowflake.

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