Page 23 of The Summer that Changed Everything

With a huff, she flopped over onto her other side and checked the time on the alarm clock. One in the morning. Dawn washours and hours away. This was turning into another long night...

Giving up on sleep, she climbed out of bed and went around, once again, to peer through the windows. She’d begun to believe she’d imagined what she thought she’d seen last night. Nothing had happened.

When she got up this morning, she’d gone out and checked for cigarette butts, gum wrappers or footprints in the yard and found no evidence of a visitor. That didn’t necessarily mean there hadn’t been one. Someone could’ve been lurking around without leaving any telltale signs. But she’d drive herself mad if she allowed fear to imprison her. Yes, she was going to keep the doors and windows locked when she could, just in case. But that might not always be possible; it turned the house into an oven.

Desperate to cool off, she unlocked the door and slipped out onto the porch, dropping her head back in relief as the cool air rushed over her matted hair and sweat-dampened skin.I’m fine. Everything’s going to be okay. I’m completely alone.There was just the full moon, the swaying grasses and the sound of the surf not too far away.

She didn’t turn on any lights and made as little noise as possible when she opened the screen door, crept down the two stairs and darted through the trees to the narrow path that would take her to the ocean.

By the time she got to the beach, she felt much better. No one was out and about. She waited a few seconds to be sure, but then she ran down the soft, shifting sand into the cool embrace of the sea.

The water cascading over and around her brought even more relief. Diving beneath the churning waves, she swam out to where she could ride the swells before they rolled over and crashed onto the shore. Then she turned on her back so she could gaze up at the stars twinkling against the black velvet sky. Despite how dark and inky the water was, she felt safe here.Untouchable. Unreachable. In her mind, all the real threats were on land.

It wasn’t until fifteen or twenty minutes later when she got out of the ocean and was wringing the water from her hair that she realized she wasn’t alone, after all. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood on the beach, wearing a short-sleeved shirt that wasn’t buttoned all the way up with a pair of loose-fitting shorts that hung low on his narrow hips. She couldn’t see his face—only his outline—and didn’t know how long he’d been there, but she could tell he was watching her.

Once he realized he’d been spotted, he came toward her, but she wasn’t about to allow him to get too close. Forgetting about her wet hair and dripping tank top and cutoffs, she started to run away from him toward the cottage. She told herself she had no idea who he was or what he wanted. But that wasn’t entirely true. Although she could easily be mistaken, she was fairly certain she recognized his build and the way he moved. His voice sounded familiar, too, as he called out to her.

“Lucy! Lucy! I just want to talk to you!” he yelled.

But she only ran faster—and didn’t look back again.

Ford shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts as Lucy disappeared. When he’d spotted her from his deck, rushing headlong into the sea, he’d come down to the beach, eager to speak to her. He’d also felt he should be on hand in case she wasn’t taking the proper precautions. He had no idea if she’d been drinking or was feeling suicidal or whatever. She’d been through a lot, and not many people were comfortable enough with the ocean to go swimming this late at night, especially alone.

But she’d always been a strong swimmer, seemed to feel right at home in the sea. She didn’t have a problem until she came out of the water and spotted him.

With a sigh, he trudged back up to Coastal Comfort.Hewasthe one who’d been drinking, and he was feeling enough of a buzz that he was tempted to follow her home. If only he could get her to listen to him for a minute. He’d reassure her that he meant her no harm, which might help her feel she had at least one person who supported her presence in North Hampton Beach.

Getting her to believe he’d actually be there when she needed him wouldn’t be easy, however. She’d thought he was her friend fifteen years ago—and look how he’d behaved when she needed him most.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he reached the steps.

Swaying slightly, he put a hand on the banister to steady himself. But instead of going up and into the house, he veered away, heading for the path she’d just taken to the Smoot cottage. Maybe Lucy wouldn’t answer the door. If she didn’t, she didn’t. But at least he would’ve made the effort.

8

Lucy had just peeled off her wet clothes when she heard someone pound on the back door. “Lucy? It’s Ford. Can I have a word with you?”

She tensed. She’d never dreamed he’d follow her. What was she going to do now?

Since it was easiest not to do anything, she ignored him as she pulled on a pair of yoga shorts and a clean, dry tank top. She figured he’d go away eventually. But when she didn’t answer, her phone went off showing a number she didn’t recognize.

It was odd to be getting a call this late, especially one that didn’t have a Nevada area code. No one had her number on this side of the country except Dahlia. And this wasn’t Sharon Smoot’s niece...

Afraid Dahlia had shared her contact info with Reggie, and he was calling to threaten or harass her, she hesitated before answering. But she felt it would be better to know if he was willing to go that far—and safer to take the risk of finding out while another human being, no matter who it was, stood close by.

Flipping the wet hair out of her face, she pressed the Talk button. “Hello?” she said tentatively.

“Can you give me a moment? Please?”

It was Ford! “How’d you get my number?” she asked.

“How do you think?”

Dahlia, of course. She just couldn’t imagine Ford being interested enough to ask. But she shouldn’t betoosurprised. The drama of having her back in town would probably piqueeveryone’sattention. “Why would you bother?”

“Because I really want to talk to you. I promise I’ll be decent. I won’t say anything upsetting or... or anything you’ll need to worry about.”

Even if that was true, why take the risk of letting the tender emotions she’d once felt for him bubble up again when she was already dealing with so much? She already knew what he was really like; there wasn’t any point in ever speaking to him again. “I’d rather not,” she said and craned her neck around the corner to peer through the living room.

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