Page 79 of Summer People
Wilder, who’s wearing a shirt that saysI am the fun, grins as he slides an iced tea in front of me. “Oh, I don’t have to ask, little darling.” He gives her a wink.
“That’s what I said.” Sutton plucks the cherry from her drink, far more confident than she was a few minutes ago.
It’s a relief, seeing her like this. Even if the confidence comes at our expense.
Fisher drops an arm around the back of my chair, his fingers tangling in my hair. I glance over at him, wondering if he even realizes he’s doing it. The man wears an easy expression, his posture relaxed. He doesn’t even look my way, like he’s set on ignoring my looks of confusion.
“But she has read about a puffin before. In a book about a baseball player who scored a home run in a bar. I don’t understand how he could run all those bases inside a bar, and Fisher won’t explain it to me. Will you explain it, Uncle Wilder?”
Wilder covers his mouth and coughs, fighting a laugh, his eyes jumping to Fisher’s.
“I’ve never gotten a complaint when I score a home run in the kitchen,” Blue says. “Or the bathroom. Or the bed.”
I have to hold my breath to stifle a giggle. Fisher groans, and Wilder lets a loud laugh free, no longer restraining himself.
Sutton shakes her head. “I don’t get it.”
“And you shouldn’t, because you’re a good girl,” Fisher grumbles.
Sutton blinks, her expression genuinely innocent. “Libby’s a good girl too, right, Fisher?”
The horror that flashes across his face is almost enough to send me over the edge, but by some miracle, I hold back my laughter.
Blue lights up. “Yeah, Fisher, tell Libby what a good girl she is.”
That does it. I officially lose the battle, and as my laughter rings out, Fisher cuffs the back of my neck and tugs me close. “The best girl,” he whispers. “Mybest girl.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
fisher
“You really think we need these?”Libby holds up a hand, blocking out the sun, and peers up at me. We’ve already hung two of the three cameras in the trees around her house, yet she’s still asking the same damn question. “It feels so LA; not Monhegan. And nothing’s happened since Putt-Putt’s accident.”
A sigh escapes me before I can stop it. “Lib,” I pull back and glare down at her from my spot on the ladder. “Someone cut your brake line. Nothing about that is anaccident. With all the hills on the island and sharp turns on the paths, you’re lucky all you got was a bump on the head.”
She shifts on her feet. The telltale sign that she’s nervous, and a sigh breaks loose. But she doesn’t argue.
I hop off the ladder and wrap my arms around her. Loving the way she melts into me, I pull her tight. Her pink tank top is just short enough that my thumbs meet the strip of bare skin above her waistband. I brush slowly back and forth, urging her to relax.
Though it’s important that she take this situation seriously, I don’t want her living in fear.
“No one can get to you when you’re under my roof. Not only do I have cameras on every angle of my house, but the windows and doors are wired,” I remind her.
When she discovered those details, she tossed out words likeparanoidandover-the-top. But it’s my job to keep Sutton, and now Libby, safe.
“I know,” she mutters into my T-shirt.
“But while you’re safe with me, I do not want someone fucking with your house. So let me get this last camera up, and we’ll make sure that no one snoops around there either.”
Her shoulders droop. “Again, very LA.”
It kills me, the way this person is stealing away the freedom Libby has found here on the island. Even if she doesn’t stay, I want her to always associate this place with happiness. With comfort. Because as pathetic as it sounds, if she loves it here, she might come back. And I desperately want her to come back. I’d be ecstatic if she never left, but that isn’t a realistic hope.
“Only you and me, Princess. No one else is watching them. This is your power, not your prison.”
She smiles against my chest. A sensation I’ve felt more and more over the past few weeks.
The summer, and my time with Libby, is passing way too quickly.
