Page 53 of The Summer that Changed Everything

“What?” she finally asked, growing uncomfortable beneath his prolonged stare.

“A lot has changed over the years.”

Or nothing had changed. That was what freaked her out the most. She was still drawn to Ford even though she had a very powerful reason to keep him out of her life. Why hadn’tthatchanged? Maybe a better question was... why couldn’t she change it?

“Sounds to me as if you two are getting close again,” he said.

She wished he’d drive faster. “We’re friends, more or less.”

“Is it more—or is it less?” he asked.

She shot him a look that told him she didn’t appreciate the implication. “It’s nothing—that’s what it is.”

At last, he pulled over in front of a house that only partly resembled the one she remembered.

“This is it?” she said.

“This is it,” he confirmed.

“They’ve donea lotof work to it.”

“Rich people renovate, Lucy. They don’t let their houses get worn and dated.”

He was letting her know her place, reinforcing the fact that she didn’t belong in the same socioeconomic class he and Ford did. He may come off like a nice guy, she realized, but he wasn’t. “Right. Thanks for helping me find it.”

“No problem,” he said as she opened the door. “If you want to waste your time, I guess that’s up to you. And just so you know, Ford’s in the middle of a divorce.”

“That’s none of my business.”

“I’m glad you feel that way because his wife, Christina, is pregnant, which means he’ll soon have his first child.”

Although she was already out of the car, she paused long enough to respond. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, but it doesn’t matter. Again, what’s happening in Ford’s life is none of my business.”

Chet’s hands shook as he watched Lucy approach the Zampino house. What was the point of her coming here after so long? What could possibly be left to discover?

Nothing that would lead to him, not after fifteen years, he told himself.Let her look. He’d been at the party—had gone specifically because a friend had texted him to say Aurora was there. He’d lived just down the street, so even though Lance Zampino was five years older than he was and they’d never hung out, it was easy for him to walk over and join the crowd. A lot of other people had shown up who weren’t invited. And it wasn’t a secret that he’d been there. The police had taken a statement from every guest, including him, and he’d said what everyone else had said: Aurora had been at the party, she was terribly drunk, and he didn’t see her leave with anyone.

Fortunately, no one knew she’d left with him. His friend had already been gone by that time. So had hers, and no one else had noticed. At least, no one had come forward, which had to mean he was in the clear. But it’d been late when they left, and they’d gone out the back. Most everyone was drunk by then, so not paying close attention, and it’d started raining as the night wore on, which meant no one was in the yard.

He’d told Aurora he’d take her to his house, where he could get his truck and drive her home. But instead of walking, she’d wanted to go in the boat, the back way, and he certainly hadn’t minded. As a matter of fact, he’d been excited. He’d thought once they reached his house he’d have a chance with her before they left—that maybe she’d be eager to climb into his bed the way she was Ford’s. He’d been convinced if he could just showher how much she meant to him, how well he’d treat her, she might realize she was going after the wrong guy.

She’d been willing to sneak inside to his room to get his bong—she’d wanted to smoke—but when he’d tried to kiss her...

His stomach nearly revolted at what’d happened next. He’d never struck another woman in his life. He wouldn’t have struck her if she hadn’t started ridiculing him, and when he’d tried to get her to stop, it’d just made things worse. The only way he could stop her from screaming was to choke her—he had to do it; he was afraid his sleeping parents would hear her yelling at him if he didn’t, and he was afraid of what she’d tell other people about their time together. She was so popular that if she turned on him, he’d wind up without a single friend.

Closing his eyes, he blocked the memory from his mind. He’d had a lot of practice doing that over the years. He’d been coming back to North Hampton Beach every summer since that terrible incident as if nothing had happened. But... Lucy. That she’d decide to dig up what was long buried when he had a wife who loved and believed in him and would be destroyed by the truth made him livid. When he had a baby girl who needed her father.

He sat in his car, watching as she knocked on the door.

“Stupid bitch,” he muttered. Ford felt so sorry for Lucy, but she was fine. She’d gotten beyond what’d happened here. Why couldn’t she just leave things alone?

His heart began to pound as an elderly woman answered the door and immediately admitted Lucy.

“Shit, fuck!” he cursed and slammed his fist into the dash of the old Mercedes his parents kept at the summer house. It cracked beneath the blow, and his hand hurt so badly he swore again as he stared down at it. Had he broken a bone?

Gingerly, he stretched his fingers. He could move them—that was encouraging—but there might still be a hairline fracture. His knuckles were chafed and starting to swell, which wouldmean Kira would ask how he hurt himself and he’d have to say he tripped and fell or something. She’d get him an ice pack—she was so caring—and he would soon feel better. On the surface, anyway. Nothing could fix what was roiling underneath.

With Lucy playing amateur detective and Ford providing the money she needed for a real investigator, what happened when they were teenagers threatened to blow up in his face.

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