Page 45 of Summer People
I sink back into the mattress and inhale Fisher’s scent. He wouldn’t have kept his mouth shut. He’d never have allowed another person to dictate his life.
Then again, when a man acts like a grump, he’s considered broody and desirable. Someone to win over. If a woman tried it? She’d be labeled a bitch.
I suppose I should get up. Even if the idea of seeing Fisher this morning has me all sorts of twisted.
He’s convinced I’m not safe. That someone is trying to scare me.
It could be Brad, though I don’t understand why he won’t leave me alone. If he’s behind the rock through my window and the other strange happenings, how did he find out where I am? And wouldn’t he prefer I stay off the grid like this? The longer I’m gone, the easier his lies are to weave. Sadly, I can’t get myself to care. Not enough to go back and fight, anyway.
I’m in no rush to go anywhere. I’m set for life financially, so the next time I work, it will be on a project I truly care about. One I’m passionate about. For so long, I’ve done what I’m told. I don’t even know what I’d choose for myself anymore.
While I came here to escape, to run away from my life, what I’ve discovered isn’t a hiding place, but a place where I can start over. Here, I have the time and the privacy to figure out who I am when I’m not pretending to be someone else.
Who the hell is Elizabeth Sweet?
Who do I even want to be?
I shift, figuring I should probably get up rather than having deep, existential thoughts while lying in someone else’s bed. Instantly, Bing jumps off me and bounces to the floor, running in circles, clearly excited to start the day.
He probably needs to go out.
I slip out from beneath the covers and run my fingers through my hair. It’s pointless, really. Fisher probably won’t even notice how I look, let alone care that my hair isn’t brushed.
Silently, I creep to the door and peek out into the hall. From here, the faint sound of cartoons floats through the air. I followthe noise downstairs to the living room, where Sutton is curled up beneath a blanket, watching television.
Does she already know I’m here? Shoot. I don’t have the first clue how to explain my presence. I glance toward the back of the house, willing Fisher to appear and give her an explanation, but the kitchen is quiet. Where is he?
“You looking for Fisher?” Sutton asks in a sleepy, unsurprised voice. Normally when the girl greets me, she’s all smiles and squeals.
“Yup.” I point to the stairs. “He let me stay here last night because my house was—” I snap my mouth shut. I don’t need to terrify her by telling her that someone may have tried to break into my house. “I, uh, I saw another spider.”
She gives me an indulgent smile. “You really don’t like spiders, huh?”
“I really don’t.”
She curls up into a tighter ball. “Come sit. Fisher went to get donuts.”
I pad across the room and sit beside her. “You didn’t want to go pick out your own donuts?”
She shakes her head and her little button nose scrunches. “I don’t like how Flora talks to Fisher. Her voice gets high-pitched like this.Fisher—” Her voice takes on a sultry tone that has a shudder rolling down my spine. “It gives me the heebie-jeebies,” she finishes.
“Does he like her?” I don’t know how I feel about that. Any connection between Fisher and the donut woman—Flora, apparently—is none of my business. But that doesn’t stop my stomach from rising up into my throat when I imagine Fisher smiling at her the same way he did at me when we were dancing.
Sutton scrunches her nose again. “I don’tthinkso. He should like you. I like you. And then you could sleep overallthe time.”
I cough out a laugh. “That’s not how it works.”
“But it could. Sounds like you’ve got a spider problem at your house. We don’t have a spider problem here.” She crosses her fingers, apparently not realizing I can see her hands. Or maybe assuming I wasn’t once a little girl who did the same thing when I told a fib.
My stomach sinks at the implication. If she’s fibbing, that means they do have a spider problem. Shoulders tense, I turn, scanning my surroundings to make sure there aren’t any creepy-crawlies nearby.
“Then we could have donuts together all the time and I would never have to have dinner at Flora’s house and we’d be like a real family.”
Any concern I had about bugs flies out the window at her words. “Sutton?—”
She shakes her head, cutting me off. “It would be so much fun, Libby. Please.”
“You only have two bedrooms, and I don’t think Fisher wants to sleep on the couch every night. But I’m right next door, and I’m always happy to hang with you.”
