Page 71 of One Short Summer

“She’s stunning.” My brother comes closer, peeking through the door with me.

Absolutely no question about that. “She is.”

We watch in silence, but I feel his eyes on me. Without looking at him, I allow him the entry he seems to be waiting for. “What is it?”

“She’s not your ex, you know that, right? Monica would never pull such a crap show on you.”

My head snaps around, my gaze staring him down. My heart beats so fast in my chest, I’m worried for a moment I might actually have a heart attack. “How?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “People talk.”

My mouth opens only to close again. The burst of irritation combined with a healthy dose of embarrassment over the fact that he knows—that someone else knows what went down between Alex, Ashley, and me—quickly morphs into relief.

Until now, I didn’t realize how badly I wanted people, at least the ones closest to me, to know what happened all those years ago. Maybe I just wanted someone to tell me it wasn’t my fault, but I was too afraid they’d side with Ashley, telling me I did in fact screw up that relationship.

The term “carrying around old baggage” suddenly makes a lot more sense. Even though I wasn’t actually that aware of it, it’s held me back, weighed me down in ways I think I still haven’t fully understood.

Talking about it with Monica has been beyond eye-opening.

I close my eyes briefly and let out a long breath. “I know she isn’t, not one bit.”

We both turn toward Monica again, who’s spinning so fast in and around herself she’s almost a blur, one of her hands and legs high up in the air as she slows down.

“She’s special. My best friend.” I’m not sure if I’m saying this to myself or to Hudson.

He grunts next to me. “You’re an idiot.”

Staring straight ahead, I somehow know whatever he’s going to say next is going to change everything.

“You love her.”

And there it is.

The blow I was expecting.

The reality I didn’t want to accept. The words I didn’t allow myself to think.

Served on a silver platter.

A truth so real and potent, I’m unable to suck in enough oxygen to keep my lungs working. My hands shake as I steady myself on the doorframe for a moment.

Hudson shoves my arm. “What iswrongwith you? You’re not gonna tell her?”

I shake my head before looking at him.

His mouth hangs slightly open before he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Why on earth wouldn’t you tell her? You’re seriously just going to let her leave?”

My arm swings up, my finger pointing straight at the glass in front of us.

At my heart’s desire.

The reason I suddenly want to write stupid love poems, but don’t want to accept the reason for it.

The bane of my existence in the best possible way.

“Look at her.” My finger shakes before I finally let my arm drop back to my side. “I can’t hold her back. I won’t do that to her. She’s like this beautiful, wild animal that can’t be tamed. The one who doesn’t want to settle down. I won’t cage her in, especially knowing how much she loves to tour, and how much she misses it. She talks about it constantly.”

“Things can change.” Hudson’s voice is somber, and I guess I can’t blame him.

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