Page 55 of Catch the Sun

“There are worse ways to go.” He hands me a smooth pebble, slightly smaller than the last one. “Try again.”

I do try again.

And again, and again.

Plop.

Plop.

Plop.

I’m not even mad about it. My inefficiency at stone skipping is truly hilarious.

I keep tossing stones until every splash of defeat has laughter stirring in my chest, bubbling to the surface. Max skips them beside me with elegance and finesse, while I double over with giggles and give up trying altogether. Now I’m just chucking rocks at the water to see how far I can throw them. The buoyancy in the air is contagious and Max laughs, too, until nearly an hour has passed us by and my arm starts to hurt from dozens of unproductive swings.

Eventually, our collection of stones reaches its end and Max turns to me as the sun dips lower in the sky. “Ready to head into town?” he asks. “Luck is clearly on your side today.”

I jab him in the ribs with my elbow but my smile sticks. There’s a happy glow shimmering around my heart and I feel brighter. Lighter. A little less buried.

I don’t skip a single stone that afternoon.

Predictable.

But I realize as I traipse alongside Max to his truck, the sunset staining thesky apricot-orange—that wasn’t the point.

The point was, that with every stone that left my hand and plunked into the water…the whole world fell away.

And that was something I did not predict.

Chapter 13

Max

The sound of spoons clanking against ceramic bowls fills the tiny kitchen as McKay and I slurp down soup with week-old bread and tumblers filled with sink water. Dad is passed out on the couch behind us, one arm hanging over the edge while his hair sticks up in all directions and makes him look like a mad scientist who had an explosive day at the lab.

McKay glances up from his bowl every now and then, unsaid words dangling between each spoonful. When our eyes finally meet, he clears his throat, swiping at a drop of broth dribbling down his chin. “I invited Libby to the Fall Fling with us.”

My spoon freezes midair and an undercooked carrot lodges in my throat. I frown at him. “Why?”

He shrugs. “She’s a babe and you don’t have a date.”

“If I wanted to go with Libby, I would have asked her.”

“Are you going with Ella?”

The carrot slogs down my throat like a piece of driftwood in a syrupy sea. “No.” I sniff. “She turned me down.”

Nodding, McKay continues to sip his soup. “We’re swinging by Libby’s after we pick up Brynn. I left some condoms on your nightstand.”

“What the fuck, McKay?”

“Fine. Slide in bare, then. Brynn and I stopped using condoms last month.She’s on the pill. It’s a game-changer.”

I push myself away from the table, the screeching chair legs enough to stir Dad awake long enough to mumble something about mustard. “I’m going for a run.” The lone, bare light bulb swings overhead from the force of my escape while pink insulation pokes out from the unfinished wooden walls, taunting me as I move to the front of the house. It’s not exactly the color pop one might find suggested on an interior design blog, and it only serves to make me move faster.

“I’ll go with you.” McKay stands and curves around the table to follow me.

“No.”

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