Page 3 of One Hot Summer
I tried to picture Collin running the meeting. It actually made me smile, just a little. He had a way of charming people even when he wasn’t trying. “And what am I supposed to do with myself, exactly?” I asked, rubbing my thumb along the grain of the desk. “Book a cruise? Go to a spa retreat?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Just go somewhere. Anywhere. You’re a fucking millionaire. Maybe it’s time you enjoy some of the fruits of your labor for a change.”
A vision of my cabin in the mountains at sunrise flickered behind my eyes—clear blue skies, towering fir trees. I hadn’t set foot in that place in three summers, when Dalton convinced me to spend a weekend together before he started his freshman year at NYU. After his mom and I split, the cabin felt… hollow. But it was better than the alternative, which was staying here and drowning in work and takeout containers.
I gave him a look. “You’ll really handle Cambria?”
The corners of his mouth turned up. He knew he was about to get his way. “I’ve got it covered, no problem.”
I hesitated, my eyes drifting to the stack of files on my desk. But Collin was right, I needed a break. With a sigh, I pushed back from my desk and stood up.
“Alright, alright. I’ll go. But if anything major comes up?—”
“It’s my company too. I’ll take care of things here,” he interrupted firmly. “Now go. Relax. Recharge those batteries.”
I gathered my things, feeling oddly unsettled as I prepared to leave the office so early. As I headed for the door, Collin called after me. “And, Griff? Try to have some fun, would you?” I waved him off, but his words stuck with me as I rode the elevator downto the parking garage. When was the last time I’d actually had fun? I couldn’t remember.
The drive home was a blur of taillights and neon signs. I barely noticed the city around me, my mind already racing ahead to the cabin. What would I even do there for two weeks? The idea of relaxation felt foreign, almost uncomfortable.
I pulled into the parking garage of my building and took the elevator up to my condo. As soon as I stepped inside, the silence hit me like a physical force. I’d lived here for years, but it had never felt like home. It was just a place to sleep between long days at the office.
I moved through the rooms, turning on lights as I went. The place was immaculate; thanks to the cleaning service I employed. But it was also impersonal, more like a high-end hotel suite than a home. The furniture was sleek and modern; all metal and glass. Not really my style, but that’s what happens when you let an interior decorator design your home instead of picking out items yourself.
With a sigh, I headed to my bedroom. I pulled out a suitcase and started tossing in clothes without much thought. Jeans, shorts, T-shirts, a couple of button-downs just in case. As I packed, I called Dalton, wanting to let him know I’d be gone from the city. It went straight to voicemail, as expected. He was probably knee-deep in some humanitarian project, making the world a better place, one village at a time.
“Hey, son, it’s Dad. Just wanted to let you know I’m heading up to the cabin for a couple of weeks. Your Uncle Collin is forcing me to take a break.” I chuckled softly then paused, unsure what else to say. “Anyway, call me if you need anything. Love you.”
I tossed my phone onto the bed and finished packing, throwing in some hiking boots and swim trunks as an afterthought. Over a quick dinner of cold Chinese leftovers, I booked a flight for the next morning. With the exhaustion of theday creeping in, I took a shower then climbed into bed where I quickly passed out.
If there’s one thing I could count on in this city, it was that even at 6:00 a.m., there would be traffic. Fortunately, I made it to the airport on time and boarded my flight with a few minutes to spare. The flight was mercifully short, and before I knew it, I was picking up my rental car at the Knoxville airport. As I drove down the winding mountain roads, memories of past trips here with Dalton flooded back. We used to spend a week every summer up here, Dalton and Sherry and me, hiking during the day, sitting out under the stars at night. But that was before everything fell apart.
I pushed the painful thoughts back into the box where I usually kept them and locked it up tight. If I was going to spend my vacation depressed, I might as well have stayed in the city. Besides, I’d promised Collin to relax and have fun, and I was going to try my best.
As I pulled up to the cabin, I felt a wave of nostalgia wash over me. The place looked exactly as I remembered it—the sturdy log exterior, the wraparound porch, the floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting the surrounding forest. I pulled up behind the house and was about to kill the engine when something registered in the periphery: a car already parked on the gravel.
For a few seconds, I just sat there, knuckles tight on the wheel, staring at the black sedan with Tennessee license plates. I knew it wasn’t the cleaning crew because they always came on Tuesdays. The most likely explanation was that some squatter or hiker who’d gotten the address wrong, but it was hard to shake the old habits of suspicion.
I popped the trunk, grabbed my bag, and started up the walk, senses sharpened. The porch creaked under my feet as I made my way to the front door. With one last look at the mystery car, I unlocked the door, heart thudding with that anxious energy you get right before a big meeting—or a fight. Whoever it was, they were going to be in for a surprise.
The cabin had always been a sort of time capsule with new memories being added each year. Dalton’s first fishing pole hanging on the wall, the largemouth bass he’d caught when he was twelve, mounted and displayed proudly above the mantel, every scent, every worn floorboard, every outdated knickknack fixed in place since my son was old enough to chase frogs down by the creek. In many ways, this place felt like more of a home than my actual home in the city.
My boots echoed on the entry tile as I stepped inside, bag clutched in a white-knuckled grip, every sense on high alert. A sound caught my attention. It was coming from upstairs, the distinct noise of a shower running. My heart rate picked up as I realized that not only was someone nearby, but they were actually inside the cabin.
I set my bag down quietly and crept up the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky spots I’d memorized years ago. As I reached the top landing, the shower shut off. Muffled noises came from behind the closed bathroom door—the rustle of a towel, bare feet padding across tile.
I hesitated, unsure how to proceed. Should I announce my presence? Confront the intruder? Before I could decide, the bathroom door swung open and a guy stepped out, a towel slung low on his hips, water still glistening on his toned chest.
I froze, caught off guard by the sight of the half-naked young man before me. My eyes couldn’t help but trace the droplets of water trailing down his lean torso. He looked to be in his early twenties, with chestnut hair darkened by the shower and striking green eyes that were currently wide with shock.
“Mr. Price!” The gorgeous man blushed so hard I thought he might burst into flames. He clutched the towel tighter. “Oh my God—I—I didn’t know?—”
“Adam?” The name slipped out, as recognition finally set in. I’d met my son’s best friend a few times when I would go to pick Dalton up for dinner at his apartment, but we’d never really had a chance to talk. “What are you doing here?”
He shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “As you probably know, the city is as hot as ball—oons. As hot as balloons in the sun,” he finished lamely, his cheeks flushing an adorable shade of pink.
“It’s okay. You can say balls in front of me,” I said, fighting a grin.
If possible, he blushed even harder at that, his face turning a lovely crimson. “Yeah, so anyway, Dalton told me before that I could use the cabin anytime I wanted since no one ever comes here. I wasn’t going to, but then the AC quit working in our building and well, here I am. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were planning on coming here.” He trailed off, mortification written all over him. The kid was six feet easy, all lean muscle and nervous energy, with the same bashful smile he’d had the other times I’d met him.
