Summer Nights

by Sanders, Jill

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ten years later . . .

  Zoey hobbled off the plane with one crutch under her arm while she shifted her backpack onto her shoulder; she gripped the other crutch so she wouldn’t fall flat on her face.

  Having a torn ACL was no joke. Still, her injury wasn’t as bad as it could have been. She held in a curse; she hated that the stupid saying was the first thing that came to mind when she thought of her pain. Sure, it could have been worse—death, dismemberment, or even going through a surgery would have been worse. But the tear had cost her the spot on her softball team. A team that had gone on to win the gold in Rio de Janeiro while she’d sat in the bleachers and cheered them on.

  Stupid knee, she thought as she made her way down the stairs of the small plane.

  A wall of moisture in the air hit her hard and fast; then the warmth of the sun broke through, which had her turning her face up to the sky and taking a deep breath. She loved the feeling of it.

  “Zoey!” She heard her name and looked down in time to see a blonde mass of hair fly in her direction.

  “Elle.” She smiled and allowed her friend to wrap her arms around her.

  “You’re here,” Elle cried and held on. “Finally!”

  She allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of holding her friend again for a moment. Then stepped back. “Wow, you look amazing.”

  “Thanks, you look . . .” Elle’s blue eyes flicked to her knee. “Like you’re hurting.” She reached over and took her bag. “Scar is already here.”

  “Yeah, she texted me.” Zoey slowly followed Elle to the waiting car across the open cement lot. “Is everyone else here yet?”

  “Hannah arrived yesterday; Aubrey is coming in later tonight,” Elle answered as she tossed her bags into the trunk of the car.

  “I’m sorry about your grandfather.” She stopped Elle from getting into the car.

  Her friend’s gaze dimmed as tears threatened to fall. “Don’t make me cry.”

  “No.” She shook her head and, holding her crutches in one hand, touched Elle’s shoulder, then hugged her again when Elle moved closer. She heard her sniffle, and for a moment, she let the memories of one of the kindest men in her life surface.

  That first summer, long ago, she’d grown very fond of Elle’s grandfather, or Grandpa Joe, as he’d liked to be called. He’d taken Zoey under his wing and had taught her everything she’d wanted to know about sailing that first year.

  She’d spent more time on the water that summer—and many more after that, thanks to the old man—than she’d spent dreaming about missing softball.

  “How are you dealing with everything?” Zoey asked after she got into the passenger side of the SUV, and Elle climbed in behind the wheel.

  She took a deep breath. “I’m dealing.” Elle sighed. “He was ninety-eight. We all knew it was going to be soon. Still . . .” She rolled her shoulders. “It’s hard. He was like a father to me.”

  Zoey nodded, remembering the first time she’d met Elle’s grandfather. The man had been tall—taller than even Zoey’s father—but where her father had been stocky and his build had run to fat, Grandpa Joe had been lean. He’d had a white goatee and a full head of matching white hair that he’d sometimes kept in a ponytail. She’d instantly liked the older man and had seen the love and connection between grandfather and granddaughter.

  In the past ten years, she’d seen him more than a dozen times. Each visit she’d grown fonder of him, and they had spent most of their time together on the water. It was all thanks to that man that her love for water matched her love for playing softball.

  It was strange: That summer long ago, she’d never imagined that she’d stay in constant contact with the other girls, the other Wildflowers, as they called themselves. Especially since at first glance, none of them had had anything in common with one another, but by the end of the summer, they’d realized they were going to be friends for life.

  Elle’s name had fit perfectly for the five of them. They had been a group of wildflowers—girls from separate groups mixed together. The fact that they had connected so perfectly together had shocked all of them. But they had, and they had stayed best friends ever since.

  They’d even returned to the camp the following three years. Once they were all too old to attend officially, they’d become camp counselors every summer until the camp had closed four years ago.

  After the camp had been shut down, they had spent a week together each summer in the Pelican Point home that Elle’s grandfather had bought in town so that Elle could have a stable home away from the camp.

  The last trip the Wildflowers had taken together had been two years ago, when they had traveled to Cabo for a week of fun.

  “I’m so sorry.” Zoey reached over and touched Elle’s hand.

  Elle nodded and then sighed as she pulled out of the small airport and headed toward the small town of Pelican Point, Florida, population about five hundred. Elle had called it home ever since her grandfather had grown sick earlier that year, moving back from her short stay in Colorado.

  “Do you miss the city?” Zoey asked, looking out at the green trees that lined the road.

  “No.” Elle smiled. “I had grown tired of it all, after breaking things off with Jeff.” The fact that her friend still said her ex-fiancé’s name with a groan told Zoey everything she needed to know.

  At first, the other Wildflowers had been concerned that Elle would fall for her ex’s same tricks this time. Her grandfather getting sick had been a blessing at first. Getting Elle out of Denver had been a necessity. She’d met Jeff, a lawyer from Denver, almost two years ago. When Elle had packed up and followed him to Denver, everyone had been concerned. Especially when she had canceled last year’s planned trip together. She’d claimed Jeff had needed her to help on a big case, but the rest of them knew that the man had been secretly controlling her, urging her away from the love and support of her friends.

  Now as Zoey ran her eyes over Elle, she could see that her old friend had finally returned to her normal self. “I’m glad,” she said. “He wasn’t right for you.”

  Elle laughed. “So far, I haven’t found one who is.” She sighed, then glanced over at her friend. “What about you? I saw a picture in some magazine of you and—”

  Zoey groaned. “Stop!” She held up her hand, causing Elle to shut her mouth. “No, Roger is just a friend.”

  Elle’s blonde eyebrows rose. “Are you sure, because that image looked . . . heated.”

  “He was helping me.” She nodded to her leg. “I tripped on the corner of the rug.” She closed her eyes and remembered bumping into one of her idols and having the man’s arms wrap around her when he caught her. The fact that the man was one of the sexiest athletes in the world, and one Zoey had a major crush on, hadn’t helped.

  “Roger Holloway is . . .”

  “Freaking amazing?” she finished. The man was a god in baseball. Of course, he was on the cover of Wheaties boxes as well as most major sports magazines. Meeting him when she’d been in Brazil had been the ultimate—that was, until she’d embarrassed herself by falling at his feet.

  He had surprised her by knowing her name. Then amazed her even further by telling her that he had been sorry when she’d gotten injured and that he hoped she would make a quick recovery.

  She hadn’t realized someone had snapped a picture of the two of them, but she’d been thankful. That was, until the gossip had turned toward them having an affair. She knew that Roger’s wife of almost four years was pregnant with their first child. Besides, Zoey was no Jezebel.

  “And married,” she finished off. “You know how I feel about home-wreckers.”

  “I know.” It was Elle’s turn to touch her hand. “How is your mother?” she asked as they drove through the small town of Pelican Point.

  “The same,” she sighed. “Scar’s been living with her while I’ve been overseas.”

  “They’re still in Jacksonville?” Elle asked.

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p; “Yeah.” Zoey rolled her shoulders, thinking about the loss of income she was now dealing with. She’d been hoping for the extra boost that the Olympics would give her career. All those advertising opportunities that her agent had lined up for her—if she’d been on the team when they had won—were now gone.

  Elle seemed to catch on to her thoughts. “What will you do now?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said softly, looking out the window. “We were hoping to move Mom out of Jacksonville. It’s not good for her there. Too expensive.”

  “Scarlett told me a little over lunch. But you know your sister . . .” Elle slowed the car down.

  “Yeah.” She smiled. “She only tells you the positive things.”

  “You two make a perfect balance,” Elle added as she turned off the main highway and into the small town.

  “You’re staying in town?” Zoey asked.

  “Yes, since Grandad shut down the camp, he moved us full time into the house here.” She nodded to a large classic two-story home on the main street of town.

  Elle’s family had pretty much owned everything in Pelican Point. The town sat to the east of Pelican Bay, just off the Emerald Coast of Florida.

  River Camp was a ten-minute drive along the water’s edge and sat on the end of a small inlet, with one side facing the Gulf Coast and the other toward the bay.

  Elle shut off the car and turned toward her. “Since my mother . . .” She held in the words, and Zoey took her hand. “Grandpa Joe was the only family I had.”

  “You have us now.” Zoey smiled and pulled her into a hug as Elle’s tears fell. She felt her own join her friend’s.

  A knock on the car window had them both jumping and laughing. Scar stood outside Zoey’s door.

  “Are you two okay in there?” Her sister reached for the door handle.

  “Yes,” Zoey said when she opened the door. Her sister stepped in and hugged her before she could get out.

  “I’m so sorry about your injury,” she whispered in her ear.

  Zoey felt more tears threaten but sucked them in. “I’m okay,” she assured her. “It’s just a tear, and it was totally my fault.” She tried not to rehash that night she’d disobeyed her coach and the rules, which had cost her everything.

  “Yes, but it took the win from you.” Her sister’s eyes met hers.

  “There’s always four years from now.” She smiled. “Help me with my pack.” She motioned to her bag.

  Scar took the bag and followed her into the house. She needed help getting up the stairs on the large front porch. That she couldn’t climb four steps made her feel even worse.

  The Wildflowers had spent a week each summer for four years in this house. As well as spending almost a full month together the year the four of them had graduated high school. Scar hadn’t been able to attend that year, since she’d been in school for another two weeks, but the house was well known to Zoey. It was strange, walking into the place and knowing Elle’s grandfather wouldn’t be sitting in the old leather chair or standing at the stove, cooking one of his famous meals.

  More memories of her time with Grandpa Joe surfaced. He had been a whiz in the kitchen. She’d never met a man who could cook before him.

  Then she saw Hannah at the base of the stairs. She hadn’t changed much; she was still petite and still a princess. Her long hair had darkened a few shades, but she still wore expensive clothes that Zoey wished she could fit into.

  Hannah smiled and rushed forward to give her a hug as she entered the living room. “How’s the knee?”

  “Sore, but I’m here.” She sighed.

  “I know,” her friend said, pulling back from the hug. “The place feels empty.”

  Zoey wrapped her arm around Hannah’s tiny waist and glanced around the room. The four of them stood inside the living room, looking around.

  “Remember the time he decided to teach us how to cook his famous chili?” Hannah said with a chuckle.

  “You blew up the stove,” Elle added, and everyone smiled.

  “He went in his sleep?” Zoey asked, turning back to Elle.

  “Yes,” she said softly. “We had a perfect night before. I took him to the camp; we watched the sunset from the car. He told me the story of how he’d met Karin, my grandmother.”

  Zoey moved over to sit on the edge of the sofa while everyone else found a place to sit. Scar left her bag at the base of the stairs and sat next to her.

  “And?” Hannah asked. “Go on.”

  Elle filled them in on how her grandparents had met and fallen in love. Then how her grandmother had died a few years after her mother had been born.

  Elle had lost her mother shortly before they had met her at camp that first summer. She’d moved in to live with her grandfather full time that summer before they had all met.

  “What about you?” Zoey turned to Hannah. “How are your parents?”

  Hannah groaned and leaned back in the chair to prop her feet up on the sturdy coffee table. “The same.”

  Zoey hadn’t been far off when she’d gauged Hannah as a princess that first day years ago. But instead of the spoiled princess that Zoey had pegged her as, she’d been the princess trapped in the tall tower by her evil parents—more like Princess Fiona in Shrek than Princess Jasmine from Aladdin.

  “Do they still expect you to date only their picks?” Scar asked.

  Hannah rolled her eyes. “They had a date set up for me tomorrow night. One of Dad’s clients.” She shivered. “They demand I live life the way they planned for me to. It’s just one more way for them to control me. The last one they expected me to go out with was my father’s age.”

  “Yuck,” the three of them said together.

  “When does Aubrey get here?” Scarlett asked.

  Elle glanced down at her watch. “Soon. Her flight from NYC was delayed.” She stood up. “How about we start cooking dinner and open some wine?”

  Everyone jumped up, except Zoey. “I’ll sit this one out. My meds don’t mix with alcohol, and my leg won’t let me stand for too long.”

  “Go and sit at the bar. You can supervise.” Elle helped her up. “I’ve got soda as well.” She ushered her to the bar top, then retrieved a Dr Pepper from the fridge and set it in front of her.

  For the next hour, Zoey watched the women, her friends, the Wildflowers, work around the kitchen like chefs in one of the top restaurants in New York, gliding around one another perfectly as each one worked on her own task.

  When a knock sounded and the front door opened, Elle called a welcome. Excitement filled the room as Aubrey joined them.

  What had once been a skinny girl with too-long legs, porcelain skin, and flyaway frizzy red hair had turned into easily the prettiest of the five of them. Aubrey’s red hair had tamed and turned a deeper shade, but her porcelain skin was still accented by mesmerizing crystal-blue eyes.

  Not that the others weren’t pretty; Elle still was tall, blonde, and busty enough to catch every man’s attention—as would Hannah, the petite princess, with her blonde locks framing her face in perfect ringlets.

  As Aubrey joined the others to finish up the meal preparations, Zoey watched them all closely. Her sister, Scarlett, who was the youngest of them at nineteen, had been graced with what Zoey thought of as all the best genes. Not only was she taller than Zoey, but Scar’s lips were fuller and her eyes bigger and a lighter shade of brown, making them almost look amber. Only Scarlett’s hair was the same as Zoey’s—the Rowlett curse of wild hair they had inherited from their mother, whose hair had in the past years turned a beautiful shade of silver.

  Aubrey filled everyone in on the latest news from her world while they finished dinner preparation. She was working in New York at a desk job that she hated but needed in order to pay the high rent of the very small apartment she kept so she could live close to her father and to pursue her love of all things art. Of the five of them, Aubrey was the only one with real talent for art. There were several of her paintings hanging up in the house.<
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  Aubrey’s father was one of the wealthiest men alive, but since Aubrey was illegitimate—the result of the much-older man seducing Aubrey’s barely legal artist mother—her father had only cared for Aubrey while her mother was alive. She’d died shortly after Aubrey had turned eight, after which the man had started taking over her life.

  However, now that Aubrey was a young woman and legally no longer his responsibility, her father had cut her off. Aubrey had fended for herself for the past few years.

  “It’s not like I want handouts,” Aubrey said, sipping her second glass of wine. “Actually, it’s quite the opposite. I hated when he took over my life. I was like a prisoner after Mom died.” She shivered visibly and took another sip of wine.

  They were sitting around the kitchen table, the grilled salmon all but vanished from each of their plates. Just like the food from the rest of the dishes on the table. The wine, however, had been refilled, as another bottle or two had been opened.

  “I remember: he controlled your every move,” Hannah said, “down to what you wore. Even my parents aren’t that bad.” She tucked her legs underneath herself on the chair.

  Zoey silently wished to be able to move her knee that easily again. A stool held her poor leg out away from the table with an ice pack over it.

  “So, I work.” Aubrey waved her wine glass. “I go to school.”

  “You’re still taking art classes?” Zoey asked.

  “When I can afford them.”

  “What about the inheritance you received when you turned twenty?” Elle asked.

  “I still have it. It’s for emergencies only. It would only cover my rent and life for a couple months if anything happened to me.” Aubrey frowned. “I dug into it for this trip, though.”

  Elle’s eyes turned toward Zoey. “And yours?”

  “My . . .” She had to think about it. “You mean the money our no-good father was forced to give us by the courts when he left our mother for a woman half her age?”

  Scarlett stiffened, causing Zoey to take a calming breath.

  “We still have it,” Scarlett answered for her. “It’s in a joint account, along with what money our grandparents left us when they passed. We’ve been using it to fix up our mother’s place and get it ready to sell.”