Page 35 of The Summer I Destroyed You

She eats in front of the TV and I eat at the counter before retreating to my room and falling into an exhausted sleep.

All my dreams are about home. About Elliott Springs, when it was still a good place, and Elliott Springs, when it became hell on earth.

I dream about helping my father carry sandbags, about being tripped as I walked onstage.

I dream about Halloween and being back in my little ten-year-old body, which had begun growing squishier and fuller the spring before, when my dad left.

“I’m doing you a favor, fatty,” Landon Briggs says as he steals my candy. “Maybe if you lose some weight, your dad will come home.”

Landon runs, but in the same moment, across the street, an older boy takes off like a shot, chasing him down. He tackles Landon and marches him back to me.

“Give her the candy,” the boy says, glancing from Landon to me. I wonder if he’s now thinking what my mother said aloud as I left—that candy is the last thing I need. “Give her your candy too, asshole,” he adds.

He wasn’t thinking it, then. And I don’t want Landon’s candy, but I wish I lived in a world where more boys like this one existed, a world where someone was willing to take my side.

I sit up in bed.

Liam. Liam was the kid who defended me.

And he was never the villain—not even at the start.

20

EMMY

My makeup is done and I’m in the middle of getting dressed when someone rings the doorbell.

I pull on my robe and run down the stairs with Snowflake at my heels. Liam stands there, looking even bigger and broader than he did the day before. Maybe it’s something about the way he fills the entire doorframe. Maybe it’s just that I’m currently wearing panties, a bra, and a pretty sheer robe.

His eyes run over me, his nostrils flaring before he quickly looks away. “Sorry,” he says. “You’re normally ready by now. I was just letting you know I can drive you down to your car when you want to get to work.”

“Oh,” I reply, suddenly short of words. “You…don’t have to do that.”

“Were you planning to hitchhike?”

I roll my eyes. “No. I…”

I was assuming I’d call a car, having forgotten the nearest Uber or Lyft is a solid thirty minutes away. “A ride would be great. I’m almost ready.”

I quickly throw on a pencil skirt and blouse and then he leads me to his truck. “How does anyone climb into this thing?” I ask.

“You just put your foot on the floorboard and hoist yourself up. You did it yesterday.”

I huff in frustration. “I wasn’t wearing a skirt yesterday. I mean, how the hell do you date in this thing? Do you only go out with Amazons?”

“Maybe I just don’t date women who whine about everything,” he replies, and before I’ve even formed a comeback, his hands are around my waist and I’m lifted into the air.

“I don’t whine about everything,” I mutter as he deposits me in my seat. “And you shouldn’t lift someone without even asking first. I’m not a pet.”

He laughs to himself. “You and I must have different definitions of whining.”

He climbs into the driver’s seat and glances at me as he looks over his shoulder to reverse. “I assume your mom survived yesterday without you?”

“She was so busy talking about her doctor, the dreamy Harold Sossaman, that I’m not sure if she noticed I was gone. The guy is barely older than me, and she talks about him like their engagement is imminent.”

He grins. “On the bright side, if she marries a doctor, you won’t have to worry about her survival.”

“I thought we’d established yesterday that I’m already not worried about her survival. Though I probably should stop saying that aloud in case something does happen to her.”

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