Dead of Summer

When I hear the sound of the door opening, I barely even blink. Elena comes at three on the dot once a week on Wednesday, and today is no exception. But when she sees me, our housekeeper blinks, her smile widening and expression warming.

“I forgot you’d be home this week,” she tells me, coming to the couch and leaning down a little awkwardly so that she can hug me in a tight, reassuring embrace. I hug her back just as tightly, because Elena has always been like a second mom to me, even when she was first hired when I was thirteen. She’d taken one look at me, my nervousness, and my shyness around her, and had made it her mission to make me feel more at home.

“Just until Saturday,” I admit as she pulls away, only to sit beside me on the couch after she evicts Mint from her spot. Not that I mind. Talking to Elena is sometimes the best part of my week. Especially when it’s been a rough one.

And God, last week really had been more than a little rough.

“This is your last week of being a camp counselor for the summer, right?” she asks, letting Mint climb into her lap and stroking the Siamese cat absently. Mint stares up at me as she does, as if to make a point, and her eyes cross a little more as she relaxes and starts to purr.

What a traitor.

“It is,” I tell her. “Then I’m doing…something. Guess I gotta figure that out, huh?” Even if it is a little late to figure out my post-summer plans when it’s already the end of August. But I refuse to admit, even to myself, that I’ve really put this off and will most likely end up with some boring job as I camp out here in the house I grew up in.

And maybe literally camp out in the backyard, if the tent in my closet is still in one piece.

“You’ll figure it out,” Elena promises, getting to her feet. “We have to get you out of the house, though. At least sometimes.” She picks up a few of my empty bottles before I can stop her, and Elena smiles blithely at me as I self-consciously try to pull my mess away from her. Though, when I discover I have an armload of trash, I get to my feet and follow sheepishly after Elena to dump all of it in the kitchen trash under her watchful, approving eye.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was her plan all along. She gestures for me to sit at the table, and as I watch, she goes to the cabinet and gets out her cleaning supplies before continuing with her explanation.

“You need to meet someone,” Elena urges. “You seem so lonely in this big house when your mother is away.” She’s not wrong, but I do duck my head and stare at my hands while she starts with the counters. I always feel so awkward when she’s here cleaning and I’m not doing anything, but she really is the second mother I never had, and sometimes is better at putting a bright spin on things than Mom is.

“Maybe I did meet someone,” I say, not really meaning it. But Elena stops and looks at me, the surprise on her features making me scrunch my nose. “Okay, you don’t need to look so surprised.”

“I just thought the only way you’d end up in a relationship is if your mother takes me up on being your matchmaker,” Elena admits casually. “Never thought you’d take that step all on your own. Who is he? Is it a he? Did you and Kinsley finally admit your love for each other?”

That makes me snort, and my smile turns genuine. Kinsley loves Elena, and from what I know, the feeling is mutual. Especially when Elena brings over homemade brownies, which are absolutely Kinsley’s favorites. It helps that Elena saves the corner pieces for Kins, knowing she can’t resist them.

“Actually, Kinsley has met her soul mate. And it isn’t me,” I say, then tell her about Liza, thrilled to see how happy Elena is for my best friend as she smiles and nods along. “I want them to be it for each other,” I admit, sitting back in my chair. “I want them to get married and I totally want to be in the wedding. Pretty sure I’d make such a good flower girl.”

Elena appraises me with one raised brow. “You’re a bit old,” she tells me dryly, prompting me to snort. “Now tell me about this boy of yours. You can’t leave me here with just ‘I met someone,’ Summer.” She almost sounds like she’s chastising me, though I recognize the gleam in her eyes and the way her mouth quirks in a grin.

But I find myself deflating in my chair, and I sit back with a soft huff. “Yeah, that’s the thing,” I admit. “I don’t know how I feel about him. Felt about him. It wasn’t worth bringing him up.”

“Why’s that?” Her face falls to one of concern, and my heart twists hard in my chest, protesting even talking about this.

“Because he left.” Me, I almost say, before I swallow the word hard. “He—he left before camp was over. He was a new counselor. I thought…” I trail off, shrugging my shoulders. After all, what the hell did I think?

That he liked me?

That he wanted to actually be my boyfriend?

That Kayde the murderer had fallen for me?

What a fucking joke.

Abruptly I get to my feet, mood soured, and huff out a sigh. “Sorry,” I tell her, hating that all of my negativity from the week is back after I’ve tried so hard to beat it back with a mental stick. “I’m just a little sore about it. Forget I said anything about meeting anyone. He clearly didn’t think I was worth sticking around for, so he doesn’t exist anymore.” God, I wish I could so easily write him off in my head.

I wish he wasn’t so good at making me remember him.

Before I can register what she’s doing, Elena wraps her arms around me, drawing me into a hug with my head against her shoulder. “You’re worth sticking around for, Summer,” she murmurs, rocking me slightly in the best mom-hug I’ve had since I came home. But that’s probably because Mom’s schedule meant I haven’t seen her in about three weeks, or else I’d be getting my daily fill of mom-hugs.

Still, I can’t help but bury my face in her shoulder, eyes closed hard. “Thanks Elena,” I whisper, wishing I could muster up some kind of rage or anger toward Kayde, instead of the gnawing sadness and soft fear that Darcy is right, and maybe I’m really not worth sticking around for.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

It always feels different when I come back for the last session of the summer. There’s a finality to it, a bitter sweetness that I both love and hate.

Though this year, I’m struggling to not just hate it. I don’t want to be here, at the place that reminds me of the stupid, terrifying, high stakes game I’d played with Kayde for a week. I don’t want to be at the place that reminds me of Kayde.