Page 2 of One Short Summer

Chapter One

Gabe

PRESENT DAY

The cupin my hand is cold, almost to the point of feeling uncomfortable, as I gaze out the kitchen window into the backyard. The high midday sun reflects in the large rectangular-shaped pool, making it look almost too inviting to pass up. A nice swim in the pool does sound appealing, but I have other things I need to do.

Other things that are more urgent.

Or rather, a certainsomeonewho needs my help, even though I’m not sure it’ll be appreciated.

After a long sip, I set the cup down on the dark-gray kitchen counter and make my way through the long hallway, giving myself a few more seconds before this unavoidable conversation that’s about to go down. I expect resistance in the form of a fiery, sometimes short-tempered, strawberry-blonde who I’m sure is currently lounging on my living room couch.

But I’m ready. It needs to be done.

Less than a minute later, I find her exactly the way I thought I would—spread out on the chaise part of the sectional, a blanket piled up on her lap, the TV playing one of those reality shows she’s taken a liking to.

My footsteps must have announced my presence because Monica looks up almost immediately when I walk in. Even though she’s only three years younger than my twenty-seven, she doesn’t look her age, especially with her hair in a messy bun and not an ounce of makeup on her face. I like that she seems to have felt at home from the first moment I moved her into my house, exactly the way I wanted her to.

Now, it has turned somewhat into a problem. And I think she knows it too, from the way she’s looking at me.

You’d think writers like me never have a moment of awkward silence and always know what to say, but they really don’t. At least, I don’t. Everything I thought of saying to my roommate falls away the second her green eyes land on mine.

Monica pushes a button on the remote to mute the TV. “What’s up? Why are you looking at me like that?” Her chin lifts the slightest bit while her eyes narrow on me. Despite the situation at hand, there’s still a bite to her.

Which makes me hopeful.

Her reaction makes me wonder what she sees though. Maybe I don’t have my cool under control as much as I thought I did. My plan was to waltz in here and demand she get her act together. Now, after looking into her innocent-looking face, the resolve almost seems to puff out of my body.

But I need to do this. Forhersake. She will regret it for the rest of her life otherwise.

I just know it.

“Did something happen?” She pushes herself up on the cushion, her back straight as a rod.

My right index finger goes up of its own accord, pointing at her, not leaving a doubt as to what, or ratherwho, the problem is. At least, it’s pretty clear to me. “You did.”

“Me? What did I do? I’m just watching a show.” She huffs out an exasperated breath, but I don’t miss the flash of bewilderment.

Rubbing my hand over my brown hair, I’m still not sure how to best tackle this subject—it’s a sensitive one, after all. “Monica, pack your bags. You’re coming to Lake Tahoe with me. We’re leaving in two days.”

Well, call me Mr. Unsensitive.

I was planning on delivering that a little nicer, but it seems like the connection between my brain and my mouth is a bit faulty. This is what happens when I’m overwhelmed by a situation.

A situation. Who am I kidding? Monica has been slightly overwhelming since the very beginning. She’s different. Loud and outspoken, not letting anyone meddle in her business.

That fire I barely see in her eyes anymore is back as she stares me down with a narrowed gaze, her forehead creased as if she’s trying to solve a puzzle. “Mmm, sorry, but why am I going to Lake Tahoe with you? I thought you were going up there for a few weeks to get some quiet time away from Brooksville, so you can finish writing your next fantasy bestseller before the deadline?”

Fantasy bestseller.She’s trying to distract me by throwing something like that at me, I just know it.

“I was.”

“Okay?” She stares at me, clearly waiting for a more elaborate answer. When I don’t give her one, she lifts her hands in front of her, palms up. “Sooooo…what changed?”

I shrug, still trying to figure out how to respond. I haven’t done the best job so far, and if I upset her now, she might not come with me at all. And that isn’t an option.

With a loud sigh of defeat, I plop down on the large sectional, facing her.

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