Not Our Summer by Casie Bazay (android based ebook reader TXT) 📗

descends and when our eyes meet again, Carter looks genuinely scared, too.

“Is there any way we can try to forget that happened?” I ask.

Carter gives a slight nod. “Yeah, sure. Don’t worry about it.”

“So…” I say, stepping around him to have another look at the trailer, because it’s way better than looking him in the eye and trying to ignore all these weird feelings I’m suddenly having. “Thanks for letting me crash here tonight.”

“Yeah, no problem. You want something to drink or anything?” He scratches at his neck again.

“Uh, sure. I’ll take whatever you’ve got.” I follow him to the kitchen and sit on one of the two mismatched barstools while Carter grabs two cans of pop from the fridge. I imagine he and Dax had to hit up a few garage sales to furnish this place, but I’m still a little in awe that they’re actually living on their own. “Thanks,” I say as he places a Mountain Dew in front of me.

Across the counter, Carter leans his elbows on the green-speckled laminate, which matches the carpet a little too well. “So, uh, you wanna tell me what’s going on with you? No pressure, I just figured you might want to explain… you know…” He nods toward the entryway. A hint of teasing threads his tone, but I can tell he’s also being serious. He’s well aware that something major has happened. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here right now.

I take a slow sip of my pop, a mix of darker emotions rising over the embarrassment of the kiss. “Might as well.”

After I tell Carter the whole story, he has the decency not to look completely appalled. “So, yeah,” I say with a sigh, “that’s the shit show that has now become my life.”

A smirk slides across his face. “Oh, come on now. Your life has always been a shit show. It’s what we have in common.”

I can only smile at this. “You’re probably right.” I take another sip of my drink and then look him in the eye. “So are we still cool?” Because I don’t think I can stand it if I ruined the one good relationship I have left in my life.

Carter rubs at his chin, pretending to think about this for a moment. The smirk returns. “Yeah, we’re still totally cool.”

CHAPTER 25BECKA

MOM’S ON HER SECOND CUP OF COFFEE, AND I’M picking the M&M’s out of a bag of trail mix as we sit across from one another at the kitchen table. Tim went to bed a half hour ago. He knew this was something Mom and I needed to discuss alone. I wonder if he knows K. J. is my half sister or if Mom’s kept him in the dark, too. Then again, I guess it doesn’t really affect him one way or the other.

Mom didn’t deny anything, surprisingly; she just said she never wanted to hurt me. It’s strange, but in a way, I get it. My anger had faded quite a bit on the drive home, mainly because I was worried about K. J.

“Did you know Sam told Grandpa?” I ask, giving up on the M&M’s and eating a peanut instead.

Mom’s face puckers. “No. It surprises me that he did, actually. I didn’t think he’d open his mouth to anyone.”

I work my tongue over the inside of my top teeth trying to get at a piece of the candy stuck there. “Sam should have told me.”

Mom gives a tired sigh and combs her fingers through her hair. “I asked him not to. I told him I would do it when the time was right. The only problem was, it never seemed like the right time.”

“So if the affair between Sam and Jackie happened before I was born, you and dad must have gotten back together for a while, right?”

She gives a subtle nod. “Yes. We tried to make it work, for your sake, but we just couldn’t.”

I resume my search for one last M&M, and a red-coated piece of chocolate finally appears in the bag—a shining beacon amid the dull-colored nuts and raisins. I retrieve it and pop it into my mouth.

Mom frowns. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. The rest of us like M&M’s too, you know.”

I shrug and say sorry even though I’m not. Chocolate is the least I’m owed after finding out my parents have been hiding a half sister from me my entire life.

“So why would Sam tell Grandpa? That’s weird.”

Mom takes another sip from her mug, and I notice it’s the one she took from Grandpa’s house that day. “I have no idea. Maybe he thought we would never tell Dad—and that he deserved to know the truth about his grandchildren.”

I raise an eyebrow. The irony of this statement is not lost on me. “So he deserved to know, but K. J. and I didn’t?”

Mom rolls her eyes. “Yes, you both deserved to know, but like I said, it was a difficult situation.”

“That’s not a very good excuse.”

“I know it isn’t. I’m sorry, Rebecka. Okay. I really am, and I’m glad you finally know the truth.” She purses her lips, then opens them like she’s about to say something else but takes a sip from the mug again instead. It’s like her security blanket right now.

Her eyes trail to my wrist. “I still can’t believe you got a tattoo.” She didn’t freak like I expected she might, but then again, she must have realized she had no right to get upset over something as insignificant as a little tattoo right now. “And you said K. J. got one, too?”

“Yeah. A dragonfly.”

Mom seems confused, probably wondering why on earth we’d get tattoos together, but I don’t feel like explaining that on this trip, things changed somewhere along the way, that K. J. and I became almost amicable. That evening at the French restaurant when we were laughing and talking, we could have actually passed as friends having a good time. Of course, everything changed