Page 93 of Rebel Summer

He turned his head toward me. “Say it, chicken,” he whispered.

A firework blasted overhead as his words led a trail of fire down my spine. His leg pressed softly against mine. I swallowed, waiting for him to move it back over, but he didn’t. I was sitting somewhere in the dark ocean with a guy who I realized I trusted completely to keep me safe. Were we friends? I wasn’t sure if my heart would be racing as much right now if we weren’t at least…friends.

“Friends, Dax Miller. Can you say it?”

Another flurry of colorful fireworks showed his grin, though he looked at the sky again. “We’ve always been friends, Caroline.”

I let the name go because there was something about the soft, almost sultry way it sounded from his lips. It didn’t feel like my grandmother’s name. It also felt much different than his other favorite—Books.

“Even after the things I said to you after that night in my garage?”

“Even after that.”

“I’m sorry about that, by the way.” I could only whisper, remembering the words I’d said to him. What I had insinuated about him.

“You’re alright.” His voice was soft, a feather grazing my skin, easing years of regret.

My heart began pounding against my chest. It must be the fireworks above us that had me so enamored. It surely wasn’t the way he tugged at his hat before bringing his arm down again, this time the backs of our fingers skimming against each other ever so slightly.

“You were right. So much of my life to that point had been about keeping my dad happy—or at least attempting to. I don’t think it ever really worked.”

He waited a beat, rubbing a hand over his face. “I wasn’t right. You’re not anything like your dad.”

I played with the edge of the blanket. “I was, though. Maybe I still am. But I never realized it until you called me out on it.”

I kept my gaze fixed firmly on the fireworks, but I could feel him watching me.

“You were actually the reason I went to therapy.”

“What?” he asked with some alarm.

I laughed. “I didn’t go because of you, but because of what you observed about me. I couldn’t get it out of my head. But it was the best thing I did. I had always known my dad had two sides to him, but it was hard separating myself from what I’ve always known. I hadn’t realized how much of my entire personality had been altered in an attempt to make him happy. And honestly, even now, all my choices…” I trailed off. “It’s hard to see where I start and my dad ends.”

“Do you like school? Teaching?” Dax asked.

“I guess I’ll find out.” The last ten years flashed through my head until I pushed it away. I didn’t want to think about my dad right now or my hours that weren’t dwindling fast enough but at the same time…too fast.

I sucked in a breath. “Why don’t you come out here anymore?”

He shifted in his seat. I didn’t expect him to answer, so I was surprised when he did.

“My family used to come out here when I was a kid, every Fourth of July. Me and Trent would go fishing, and we’d paddle board and eat my mom’s fried chicken and potato salad and watch the fireworks.”

“Why’d you stop?” I could feel the mood shifting as I asked the question.

“Do you remember my older brother? Mason?” Dax’s words were soft, a breath of air I would have missed if I hadn’t been paying attention.

I thought for a moment. I didn’t remember an older brother. I only knew his younger brother, Trent, from the student council in high school. But a hazy memory of Dax flickered through my mind just then. We must have been five or six playing at the playground together. I had been hurt, and he had helped me. I had never thought about that boy being Dax. He had been a kid wearing a Spiderman shirt like every other little boy at the playground. That was long before he became the Dax Miller I knew in high school.

“Not really. How much older is he?”

“Five years. He took off when I was thirteen. My family hasn’t seen him since.”

There was a moment of quiet while I absorbed that information. My mouth opened and closed a few times before it settled on, “Why?”

Another long pause. His words had cost him something, the way he kept running his hand over his mouth, like he wished he could take them all back.

“He was fighting a lot with my parents, about his future, stuff like that. That’s what I remember, anyway. One day, he just packed up and left.”

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