Page 46 of Summer People
She frowns. “We have a third bedroom.”
Lips pursed, I tilt my head and sneak a peek up the stairs. “You do?” Then why did Fisher put me in his room? Why did he give me his bed, then sleep on the couch?
Sutton looks away, her shoulders sagging. “Yeah, but he never opens the door to it.”
“Huh?”
Tiny fingers pick at the fabric of her blanket as she keeps her focus downcast. “My parents’ room. He won’t even open the door, but everything inside is exactly like they left it.”
Oh, Fisher. My heart cracks for both of them. For the man trying his best to raise a heartbroken little girl, all the while probably struggling with his own loss. Grief is so damn difficult. There’s no right way to handle it. Reality ebbs and flows,mingling with doses of the past. The tiniest flicker of a memory can derail an entire day. One moment you’re laughing, and the next, it’s impossible to breathe. A joke can lift your spirits, only to be undercut by a few simple notes fromtheirsong as a car with its windows down rolls by.
That’s how grief feels now, at least for me. As a child, I was desperate to hold on to every memory I had. I hoarded every item my mother had ever touched, hoping that holding it would bring even the most fleeting comfort.
I inch closer to Sutton, and as if she knows I need it, she rolls out from under her blanket and snuggles up against me. “But you go in there? Because it makes you feel closer to them?”
“I don’t remember them. Not really.” She takes a heavy breath for such a small person. “Maybe small things, like how Dad smelled like the ocean. And Mom’s laugh. But that’s it.”
God, do I wish I could remember my mother’s laugh. So many years later, I think it’s more of an impression of a memory than the real thing.
Sutton’s blue eyes shine as she studies me. “Is that bad?”
I strum my fingers through her silky blond strands. “No, pretty girl.” My voice cracks. “That’s just what happens. Time goes on and memories fade. I hardly remember my mom. That’s why I’m here this summer, even if no one wants me here. I stay because this island holds my last memories of her.”
Frowning, she grasps my wrist. “I’mglad that you’re here. I don’t know anyone else who’s lost their parents. It’s nice to have someone to talk to about it.”
God.My heart squeezes, and I have to inhale through my mouth to keep from crying.
I rest my head against hers and close my eyes. “I’m always here to talk, pretty girl.”
I may not have the answers, but like Fisher, I want to be here for her. Even that feels selfish, though, because just this simple talk means more to me than she could ever know.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
fisher
“Well,look what the cat dragged in.” Flora leans forward, resting her elbows on the butcher-block counter.
If I bother to look away from the donuts in the glass case, I’m sure I’ll be met with an eyeful of cleavage. But I have no interest. Wish she would take a freaking hint.
“I put two double chocolate donuts aside in case you came.”
They’re Sutton’s favorites, and the spot in the case where they usually sit is empty, so despite how much I don’t want to be, I’m grateful for the annoying woman.
“Wasn’t sure you’d be in,” she continues in that high-pitched nasally voice that makes me wish I’d brought my noise-canceling headphones.
“Always here on Ruckus donut days,” I grumble.
Sutton wouldn’t let me miss it. Her big blue eyes would go dull, just like they did the day of the funeral. And that helpless sensation would wash over me. My job is to make her happy, to make sure she lives her best life. If that means I drag my ass to this shop and deal with Flora, then so be it. Every Thursday and Sunday.
“Hey, Sheriff.” Cank steps through the door, pulling his hat from his head. He tucks it into the pocket of his overalls and pulls out a dog treat. “Where’s my boy?”
“Home.” I didn’t love leaving the girls, but I adjusted my camera settings and turned on notifications, so my phone will alert me if anyone even steps onto my grass. Bing is the extra level of protection, so I left him behind.
“Saw you dancing with Libby last night.” Cank waggles his brows as he holds Bing’s treat out to me.
I keep my expression flat. The last thing I need is the gossip mill working overtime.
“Now that the island knows you dance, I’m sure your card will be full every Saturday.” Flora taps my arm with a bag. “You’ll have to save me a dance next week.”
