Page 95 of Rebel Summer

A laugh gurgled out of me, and he shot me a smile. Heat flamed throughout my entire body.

“That’s quite the understatement.”

“Probably. All I knew was that my whole world had been turned on its head. Whatever bubble I was living in had popped. Suddenly, people I loved could just leave and never come back. And not because they were taken too soon–because they wanted to go. So I did everything I could to stop me from feeling like that again. I changed friends, got an attitude, and convinced myself I no longer cared.”

“Did it work?”

“Suited me just fine for a few years.” He grinned.

His attention turned to the fireworks. His pause gave weight to the moment—giving me a fresh perspective on the Dax I had known in biology—sauntering in and out of school, a devil-may-care attitude nipping at his heels. Impossible to read. Impossible to discipline.

“It was almost liberating once I realized that nothing really mattered. Nobody could touch me. Detention? Suspension? Juvy? Great. I didn’t care. It all seemed so stupid. Why did any of it matter if people could just leave?”

I thought about thirteen-year-old Dax, who had his world completely rocked in the worst way. By the time he got into high school, he had been labeled a rebel. A troublemaker. A menace to society. When really, he was just a little boy with a broken heart and nowhere to go with his feelings.

A slight breeze picked up, and an unintentional shiver racked my body all of a sudden.

Dax sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Are you cold? We can get going.”

“No, I’m fine.” No way was I cutting this conversation early.

Dax eyed me. “I know what you’re doing, Books.”

“You can’t blame me,” I said, grabbing his forearm and tugging him back to our uncomfortable slouch on the seat. “These are the most words I’ve ever heard you speak.”

He groaned but didn’t put up the fuss I thought he might. Instead, he sat up again, leaned forward, and grabbed a five-gallon bucket he had sitting behind a seat. He set it out in front of us so we could have a leg rest before leaning back once again, pulling our blanket around us more securely.

“Wait. Why do you have a bucket?”

“To bail us out.”

“Do you need to bail yourself out often?”

“Not too often.”

“That’s comforting,” I said, as another shiver ran through me. The middle of the ocean in the dark was indeed chilly, even in Florida.

“Alright, this is survival, Books. Don’t get any ideas.” In a move so smooth and natural, Dax slid his arm around my neck and pulled me against his side. His body exuded warmth, and I snuggled closer on instinct.

“So, you lived a life of mayhem all through high school. How long did that last?” I raised my head off his chest. “Or is it still going on?”

His lips curved in a smile before it disappeared. “It started slowing down my senior year of high school. It pretty much stopped after graduation. Most of my buddies left for college or enlisted somewhere, and I started working at the shop with Keith full time. I was on my own, doing what I wanted to do, and I didn’t really have a reason to fight the system anymore.”

“How did your parents handle those years?”

He sighed. “They didn’t notice for a long time. They were still trying to do everything in their power to find Mason, but he just disappeared. He must have been planning it for weeks. Maybe months. When they did notice me, they didn’t do much of anything.”

My brow furrowed as my fingers played with a snag on the blanket. “Why?”

“At the time, I thought it was because they didn’t care.” He laughed, a little bitterly. “I was doing everything I could think of to get their attention, and it seemed like they couldn’t have cared less. But now, I think they were too scared to push me too far.”

“Why?”

His arm tightened around my shoulders. “I find you…annoying.”

“Glad to see I haven’t lost my touch,” I said, tucking a wayward curl behind my ear.

“I found out that a kid has some leverage when their older brother walks out on the family. They didn’t want me to do the same thing, so they were willing to overlook a lot of stuff.”

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