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

peering her way. She’s wearing a black Nirvana T-shirt and cutoff jean shorts, but she’s done something different with her hair—maybe put some gel in it. It brings out the curliness, which is surprisingly cute on her.

“Still hurts, but it’s getting better.” She rolls down the window and spits the gum out, only to start bouncing a knee instead. “Do you think he’ll like me?”

I offer a reassuring smile. “I’m sure he will. But honestly, who cares? It’s not like he’s an outstanding dad or anything.”

K. J. drops a hand onto her leg, stilling it, as if annoyed by her own nervousness.

“Hey, listen,” I say, “I need to apologize for something. It’s been bothering me for a while now, actually.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m sorry for punching you in the face. Back at Yellowstone.”

“No worries,” K. J. says, one side of her mouth lifting in a smirk. “I deserved it.”

Despite my guilt, I have to smile, too. “Yeah, you kind of did, but I still feel bad. It left a bruise.”

“Johan was probably impressed with your upper arm strength.”

A laugh bubbles out before I can stop it. “I don’t know about that. He was probably just shocked I hit you. Everyone was—even me.”

K. J. scratches at her arm. “Guess I should apologize, too. Sorry I ruined things between you two. I mean it was probably a lost cause anyway, because of the whole long-distance thing. And maybe the age. But I was a shit, I know that.”

“You didn’t ruin things. We’ve been texting. He’ll be coming through Siloam Springs this winter on a road trip, and we’re going to meet up.”

K. J. peers at me, incredulous. “You sneaky son of a…”

“I doubt anything will come of it, but… I guess stranger things have happened.”

“That’s for sure.”

We give each other a small smile before I turn my attention back to the road. There’s no need to mention what those things are. We both know all too well.

“I actually kinda liked Johan,” she says. “I hope you two end up getting married or something.”

I hold up a hand. “Whoa, no one said anything about getting married. It’s just a date.” At least I’m hoping that’s what he’ll see it as. “I don’t plan on getting married for a long time.” If at all, considering our family’s track record when it comes to committed relationships.

We pass through another stoplight, and Cathy’s Corner, with its giant red and white sign, appears ahead on our right. It was Sam’s suggestion.

“You ready for this?” I ask K. J.

She draws in a deep breath. “Ready as I can be, I guess.”

Inside, the restaurant smells like greasy hamburgers and fried chicken, and even though I had a big breakfast with Mom and Tim just a few hours ago, my stomach still rumbles in response. We’re a few minutes late, so I scan the tables for Sam. He waves from a booth near the middle of the restaurant. Beside me, K. J. freezes.

“Come on,” I say, tugging at her elbow. “He won’t bite.”

Sam stands and runs a hand through his dark, wavy hair before offering a smile. He looks nice, though he’s wearing his usual car salesman attire—tan slacks and a white polo.

“Hey,” I say, mustering the nonchalance I always use around my father.

“Hi, girls.” His eyes keep moving to K. J. as if he can’t believe she’s really here.

“K. J., this is Sam,” I say, motioning between the two of them. “Sam, K. J.”

He extends a hand and K. J. shakes it. “Nice to meet you, sir,” she says.

I raise an eyebrow at K. J. as Sam gives a nervous laugh.

“You don’t need to call me ‘sir.’” He gestures to the seat across from him, urging us to sit. I let K. J. scoot into the booth first.

Sam’s eyes ping-pong between us, and then he shakes his head. “Wow… Just wow. I can’t believe I have both my daughters here. Together.”

I refrain from rolling my eyes. “Yeah, well it’s happening.”

He focuses on K. J. again, who seems to be at a loss for words. “So, Katherine. Tell me about yourself.”

“It’s K. J.,” I correct him.

“It’s fine. He can call me Katherine.”

I squint at her. Who is this person sitting next to me?

She clears her throat. “Um. I’m eighteen. I’m sure you know that, though. I graduated from Colcord High School in May, and I’m starting at NorthWest Arkansas in a couple weeks.”

“You are?” I ask. We hadn’t gotten around to talking about college on the car ride over.

“Yep, I got my acceptance letter and enrolled… and stuff.”

I grin. “Good for you!”

“That’s really great,” Sam says. “What are you planning to major in?”

“I’ve been thinking about art and design. Or graphic design. But those are just some ideas. Need to get through my basics first.” She clears her throat again.

Sam looks at me. “And you’re still planning to major in sports medicine?”

“Probably.” I’ve always had a straightforward plan for my life, but after all that’s changed in the last few months, I want to at least keep my options open.

A waitress appears, placing a menu in front of each of us. “Sorry about the wait,” she says, sounding out of breath. “Can I go ahead and get your drinks?

We each order a drink and then read over our menus. I already know what I want—the chicken tender basket. But K. J. seems indecisive and is still reading over the options. I think back to the last time we ate together, how confident she was trying to order wine for the both of us. That was back when we were just cousins—not sisters. She seems like a different person today, and I wish she wasn’t so nervous.

Sam’s eyes flick between the tattoos on our wrists, but he doesn’t ask about them. “Order anything you like,” he reassures K. J. “My treat.”

Damn right, it’s your treat, I think, and then smile because it’s something K. J. would say.

The waitress returns, and Sam and I order first, giving K. J. a little more time to