Page 51 of Stolen Summer

“Don’t forget, our deal starts tonight,” he said to my back.

I ignored him and kept walking.

“If you fail to show up tonight, Killer, I’ll be coming to get you,” he added in what sounded much like a threat. And I believed him.

I also cared little.

This time, he got the middle finger.

Chapter Seventeen

Ihad every intention of honoring our deal, not only because of the money but because I stuck things through regardless of how difficult or messy they might be.

Shirtless and barefoot, I barreled into my house, dripping water and depositing sand all over the floor. One of the pitfalls of living on the beach…you could never escape the sand. The tiny particles got everywhere, including places it shouldn’t be.

I’d been in the ocean for five damn minutes, and I could feel the salt and sand sticking to my skin.

“Arie, is that you?” Dad called from the kitchen.

I stalked straight to my bathroom and slammed the door, not bothering to answer. He’d figure it out.

After washing off more than the ocean’s seaweed stench, I padded to my bedroom. The attempt to scrub away the memory of what happened in the water between us was a lost cause. It couldn’t be erased like the salt and sand in my hair.

Since I’d be spending my nights at Cole’s, I tossed in some laundry and started to pack some essentials, but as I stuffed shit into a duffel bag, it hit me I had no idea what I would be doing with my days. I had to find a way to get my job back but then remembered Ann had no problem covering my shifts with the other girls. Taking my shifts back would riddle me with guilt. I wasn’t the only one strapped for cash. They needed the extra money more than I did now. Especially in wake of the hurricane.

I hadn’t allowed myself to fully comprehend that my bank account, which only a day ago had a balance of fifty-six dollars and forty-seven cents, now had a balance with multiple zeros in it. Never in my life had I ever had fifty thousand, I repeat thousand dollars in my checking account. This was serious money, and at the end of summer, that sum would double. I’d spent my life counting every cent. It was ingrained in me, and I didn’t plan to be reckless with the small financial cushion. Money went as quickly as it came, and I couldn’t make it fast enough.

Until now.

I might not have a job to go to tomorrow, but I did at least know what I would be doing part of the day. Snagging the stack of bills on my nightstand, I shoved them into the front zipper pocket of my bag. The pouch bulged, and it took me a bit to finagle the fastener close.

With nothing else to do, I stared at my phone. I had no reason to continue procrastinating. Hours had passed since the incident on the beach. Hopefully, we both had cooled down. Or not.

I didn’t see the point in making a big deal out of my leaving, especially since the lie I’d concocted to tell my dad. So, I hauled my bag to the front door and peeked into my dad’s room to check on him. He was tucked into bed, back propped up, reading with his ritual drink. “I’m leaving, old man. Don’t forget to take your meds, and it would be good if you didn’t wash them down with a bottle of gin.”

“Too late,” he mumbled, eyes still on the page. He had good and bad days. Truthfully, more bad than good, and today I could see he wanted nothing to do with the real world.

And that was the best goodbye I’d get.

I left Dad to his book and booze, which honestly, sounded like a better night than the one I was about to endure.

Shit, the entire summer.

A crescent moon sliced through the darkness, radiating over the black waters of the ocean, rippling in a gentle song against the shore as I crossed the sand. Speckles of stars dusted the clear night sky, and as I looked up, nothing but stars surrounded me. The beach at night was breathtaking. It felt like a completely different world than during the day. Mysterious. Serene. Yet also dangerous.

The lure to take a dip in the water curled inside my belly. When was the last time I’d done something for fun—for me?

Too long.

Cutting across the beach onto the grass, I headed toward the front of the Rileys’ house. My bag hung heavy on my shoulder. The weight of my possessions was almost too much to carry, and I was seconds away from dragging the bag onto the porch. I dropped it with a thud when I stood outside the door, rolling the ache in my shoulder before I rang the bell.

My hand got halfway to the glowing button when I noticed a little white note taped to the door. I huffed, shaking my head as I tore it off and read through the scrawled message.

Let yourself in. Shouldn’t be a problem for you, Killer.

Dickhead.

I crumbled the paper in my hand and stared at the door.