In spite of her resolve not to be further charmed by Austin, Summer laughed. “And that would be…?”
“An appeal to your merciful nature—the pity kiss. It’s the least you can do, Summer. You’ve just tried to end our relationship. On my birthday, no less.”
“I haven’t just tried to end it, Austin. I really have.”
“I’ve heard that before, though, haven’t I?”
“But I mean it this time.” Summer crossed her arms over her chest. “I—” She paused when she heard footsteps approaching from the pool area in the backyard.
It was Blythe, a tall, stunningly pretty black girl who lived on the second floor of the building. Someone was with her, a girl Summer had never seen before. They were both wearing bathing suits, with damp towels wrapped around their waists.
“Hey, guys, how’s it going?” Blythe started up the steps, leaving wet footprints in her wake. “Hope we’re interrupting something.”
“You’re not,” Austin replied glumly. “Unfortunately for me.”
“What a waste,” said the second girl, eyeing Austin appreciatively.
“Down, girl, he’s taken,” Blythe warned. “Caroline Delany, this is Summer Smith and Austin Reed. Caroline’s from Virginia. She and I used to be counselors at a summer camp there. I haven’t seen her in ages.”
“How long are you staying?” Summer asked, grateful for any reprieve from her conversation with Austin.
“Oh, a couple of weeks, a couple of months,” Caroline replied. “As long as Blythe can stand me.”
She had a sweet smile, Summer thought. With her short blond hair caught back with a little barrette and her slight build, she looked younger than the rest of them, almost vulnerable.
“I told Caroline if she gets on my nerves too totally, I’ll force her to pick up my shifts at Jitters. That’ll get rid of her,” Blythe teased. “Hey, that reminds me. Marquez isn’t working tonight, is she?”
“I’m pretty sure she has the night off,” Summer said. “Why?”
“We asked her to join us down at the pool, but she said Diver was coming over. She seemed kind of down, so I went back to check on her about an hour ago. But when I knocked on your apartment door, no one answered. Guess she and Diver decided to go out.”
“I thought Diver had to work late tonight,” Summer said, frowning. “I hope Marquez is okay.”
“She has seemed a little stressed out,” Blythe said. “I mean, I hardly know the girl, but at work she’s been either totally hyper or totally zoned, you know?”
“I know. I’ve been worried about her too. She’s been on this major exercise binge. I swear I never see her eat anything anymore.”
“Wish I had that problem.” Caroline patted her rear. “But I never met a fry I didn’t like.”
The two girls headed inside. “There goes every man’s fantasy woman,” Austin said with a smirk. “Never met a guy she didn’t like.”
“Fry, you sleazebag. See how easy it will be to get over me? You’re already scoping out the possibilities.”
Austin’s grin vanished. “Not likely, Summer. You’re irreplaceable.” He shook his head sadly. “You’re making a terrible mistake, you know. How many guys are you going to find who’ll say nauseatingly corny things like that? Out loud? In public? Even without being threatened with bodily injury if they don’t?”
Summer took a deep breath. “This is the right thing for me, Austin. I feel good about this decision. I really do.”
She wondered if she sounded convincing. She wondered if she herself was convinced.
The truth was, she didn’t feel good about this decision at all.
The truth was, she wanted Austin. She loved Austin.
But she loved Seth too, and she owed him her loyalty in a way she didn’t owe Austin. She’d made a vow to Seth. And if she hadn’t honored it as well as she should have so far, well, maybe it wasn’t too late to try.
Seth had loved her enough to place a ring on her finger. And if she’d accidentally lost the ring, well, maybe it wasn’t too late to replace it.
With a remarkably similar one, she hoped.
“I’m not going to just walk away,” Austin said. “I’m not going gently into that good night…” He groaned. “Damn. That’s a bad sign. When I’m desperate, I start quoting poetry.”
“At least it wasn’t a dirty limerick.”
Silence fell. Suddenly the air seemed suffocating, with its thick, sweet scent of jasmine and heavy wetness. Night noises filled the emptiness—crickets and frogs thrumming, the ebb and flow of the nearby surf, the rustle of palm trees catching the occasional tendril of breeze.
Austin took her hands in his and held on too tightly. “Summer, look…I…what if I told you I need you right now?”
The lost, childlike sound of his words made her ache. His eyes shimmered with tears.
“Austin…don’t.”
“What I mean is—” Austin paused. “I can’t lose you right now. I already feel like I’m losing everything.”
His father. That’s what he meant, Summer knew. Austin’s dad had a hereditary illness called Huntington’s disease. He was confined to a hospital bed, unable to communicate, slowly dying. Austin’s brother had inherited the gene that caused the disease. Austin had recently been tested for it too. Fortunately, he’d been luckier than his brother.
“I will always be here for you, Austin,” Summer whispered. “Anytime you need to talk—you know, about your dad or anything else—I’m here. It’s not like we can’t be friends.”
“We are friends. Friends who happen to be in love with each other.” Austin leaned against the porch rail. He stared past her into the velvety darkness.
He was so different from Seth, Summer thought. Intense, surprising, independent. Something about Austin told you he didn’t give a damn what the world happened to be thinking about him. His looks just added to that impression: longish brown hair that refused to behave, a perpetual hint of beard, a couple of tiny silver hoops dangling from one earlobe, an ever-present and charming smirk.
And yet there was a wistfulness about Austin as well. Summer always had the feeling he’d lost something and was desperately trying to recapture it. What it was, she didn’t know. He was still a mystery to her. An almost irresistible one.
Seth, on the other hand, was pretty much an open book. Steady, protective, reliable, completely faithful. He was the boy next door. She was the girl next door. And it seemed inevitable that someday they’d get married and have little kids next door of their own.
Austin squared his shoulders. He looked calmer, as if he’d come to some conclusion.
“Maybe this is a good thing.” He said the words slowly, measuring each one. “I’ve often wondered if coming here to the Keys to be near you was a good idea. I talked myself into believing that if it was good for me, it would be good for you….”
The cool, distant look in his eyes told Summer that he was already pulling away from her. Good, she told herself. That was what she wanted.
“But you deserve better than I can give you, Summer. I come with a lot of…well, limitations. I’m like one of those crappy plane tickets, full of restrictions, where you can only travel to certain places at certain times of the week…and for only so long.”
“What limitations, Austin? I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”
He shrugged. “Limitations. We’ll let it go at that, all right?”
“You are not a crappy ticket,” Summer said softly. “You are most definitely first-class round-trip to Paris.”
“No. I’m more like one-way to Kalamazoo. On Greyhound. Sitting next to a guy who smells like bad cheese while he drools on your shoulder. But let’s quit while we’re ahead. This analogy is in danger of collapsing under its own weight. The point is, maybe this is all for the best.” His tone was resigned and flat. He sounded deeply tired. “Maybe Seth is the guy for you. I doubt it, but then, I’m biased.”
For some reason Summer was reminded
of the message Austin’s brother had left on his machine earlier that evening.
“It gets easier after a while,” he’d said, “really it does.” He’d had the same resigned, weary sound that Austin had right at that moment.
She touched his arm. He gazed at her fingers on the taut muscle of his forearm and smiled a little. “So. One last pity pucker for the road?”
Summer kissed him softly. She tried not to think about the longing and sadness and regret churning inside her. She tried not to sob when one of Austin’s tears dampened her own cheek.
She was being faithful to Seth. She was doing the right thing. She was being honorable and loyal and steadfast and true.
Sometimes doing the right thing hurt like hell.
“So long,” Austin whispered as she pulled away.
She closed the door behind her so he wouldn’t hear her cry.
2
Hard Questions, No Answers
Summer slowly climbed the three flights to the apartment she shared with Marquez and Diana.
It was a great place—a charming attic apartment in a Victorian house, complete with two porches, one overlooking the bustling main street, the other directly over a small pool in the backyard with the ocean a little ways beyond. The house was located right in the heart of Coconut Key, which boasted two great colleges and endless miles of pristine white beaches.
It was the perfect tropical paradise, except for one tiny problem: Austin. It was bad enough he’d moved to the Florida Keys to be close to Summer, but he even worked at a café on the bottom floor of her apartment building. How was she ever going to avoid seeing him?
It was way too easy to imagine the awkward encounters, especially when Seth came back from California. But it wasn’t as though she could move. They’d just signed a lease for the summer. And Marquez and Diana loved the apartment.
It was impossibly complicated and impossibly sad. Summer sniffled as she fumbled for her key.
“Marquez?” Summer called as she unlocked the door. “It’s me, and do I ever need a Chunky Monkey fix.”
No answer, but the lights and the stereo were on.
“Diver? Are you guys in the bedroom?”
Summer took another step. The apartment was eerily quiet. “Marquez?” she whispered.
The first thing she saw was the hand.
Marquez’s hand, jutting out from behind the couch.
Summer gasped, and her heart shot into her throat. She ran to Marquez’s side.
Blood trickled from a cut on Marquez’s forehead. Her usually dark complexion was chalky. She was wearing her exercise sweats. A towel lay by her side.
Summer took her friend’s hand. It was cool and limp.
Oh, God, please don’t let her be…
Summer felt for a pulse.
Nothing.
She tried again, watching to see if Marquez was breathing.
Finally Summer found a pulse, saw a shallow breath.
The phone—where was Diana’s cell phone? Their apartment phone hadn’t been turned on yet. Frantically Summer dug under the couch cushions.
Damn it, where was the phone?
She sprinted to the hallway. “Blythe!” she screamed down the stairwell. “Call 911! Blythe!”
Blythe’s door flew open. “What’s wrong?” she demanded. She was still in her bathing suit.
“It’s Marquez! She’s fainted! I think she was exercising. She must have passed out and hit her head. Call 911 for me, right away!”
“It’ll be okay,” Blythe said calmly. “Go back to Marquez. I’ll be right up as soon as I call.”
Summer ran back down the hall to the apartment. She grabbed a blanket off the couch and gently covered her friend.
She looked so small. Tough, unstoppable, crazy Marquez. Summer squeezed her limp hand. Marquez’s arm was light, just a slender stick of bone. Summer hadn’t realized how thin she’d gotten.
So thin, so quickly. Why hadn’t she noticed? They’d all been so busy encouraging Marquez about her weight loss. Maybe they’d been too encouraging.
Blythe and Caroline appeared in the doorway. “They’re on their way,” Blythe reported. “I’ll bet she just got light-headed working out, that’s all.”
“She’ll be okay, Summer,” Caroline said.
Summer brushed Marquez’s thick hair away from her face. “I hope you’re right,” she whispered, but she wasn’t nearly so certain.
Marquez? Can you hear me, hon?
She’s been slipping in and out. Her BP’s up. One-ten over sixty. Pulse is still a little thready.
Marquez? I’m Dr. Mary Lewis. Almost the same first name as you, although your friend tells me you don’t use it. Open your eyes, Marquez. Do you know where you are?
Come on, Marquez. Stay with us here.
You hit your head, Marquez. You’re in Fairview General, the hospital on Coconut Key. Sounds to me like you got a little carried away on the exercise bike and fell off and hit your head. Just took a couple of stitches. You won’t even notice them. Marquez?
I haven’t gotten anywhere with her, either. She hears okay, she just won’t…Hey, you sure she fell off a bike?
That’s what her roommate told the admitting nurse. Why do you ask?
Just something she said. The only thing, actually. Something about diving.
Hmm. I doubt it…I mean, her clothes were dry, her hair was dry.
Maybe I got it wrong.
Marquez? Listen, I need to ask you some questions so we can be sure we give you the right medications, okay? You need to help me out on this, Marquez.
Have you been taking anything? Drugs of any kind?
It’s okay to tell us. We just want to help you, hon. And we can’t help you unless you tell us the truth.
How about it? Cocaine, crack? Maybe some amphetamines? Speed?
Come on, Marquez. Work with us here. We’re not the bad guys, okay?
We’re getting nowhere. Where’s that roommate of hers? Maybe I’ll try her.
Waiting room, I think. Want me to get her?
I’ll go talk to her. Give me a full blood workup, and let’s keep Marquez here overnight for observation.
I’ll be back later, Marquez. Maybe you’ll feel like talking more then.
What’s that? Did you say something, hon?
Something about diving again, I’m pretty sure.
Diving! Right. No diving for you anytime soon, kiddo. About the last thing in the world you need right now is more exercise.
3
Best Friends, Brothers, and Other Troubling Mysteries
“Diver!”
Summer ran to meet her brother as he entered the waiting room. She hugged him, then pulled away, suddenly self-conscious.
“Marquez—”
“She’s okay,” Summer assured him. “I talked to the nurse a little while ago. They’re going to keep her overnight, just to be on the safe side.”
“Thank God. I was so scared.” Diver sank into a yellow vinyl chair.
“The nurse said Marquez’s doctor wants to talk to us, but then we can probably go see her.”
Diver combed back his long sun-streaked hair. His dark blue eyes were clouded with worry. “I wish I could have gotten here sooner. I must have broken twenty traffic laws on the way.”
“My neighbor Blythe and a friend of hers drove me over. They’re down in the cafeteria.”
“Summer—” Diver hesitated. “Why does the doctor want to talk to us? Marquez just fainted, right? You’re not keeping something from me, are you?”
“No, of course not. I don’t know why she wants to talk to us.” Summer sighed. “I’ve been kind of worried about Marquez lately. She’s seemed so stressed out.”
“Yeah. I’ve been worried too.”
“But you know Marquez—you say one word to her and she bites your head off.”
Diver leapt from his chair and began pacing the small room. “She’s been exercising constantly, and she hardly ever eats. She never ate well. Marquez th
inks a bag of Doritos and a Diet Pepsi is a well-balanced meal. But lately…I never see her eat anything.”
He reached the end of the room for the second time and spun around. Summer almost smiled. She’d never actually seen someone pacing before. Her usually mellow brother looked like one of those anxious expectant fathers in a TV sitcom. Only there was nothing funny about this.
Diver took another turn. “Marquez means everything to me. If anything ever happened to her…” He glanced at Summer, then looked away.
Summer thought she saw guilt in his eyes. And why not? Why was it so easy for Diver to care about Marquez? Why, when it had been so hard for him to care about his parents—Summer’s parents—and Summer herself?
A tall young African-American woman in a white coat, a stethoscope draped around her neck, strode into the waiting room.
“Summer Smith?” she asked.
Summer nodded. “I’m Summer. And this is my brother, Diver.”
“Diver? Ah, so that explains it. Marquez was asking for you. I’m Dr. Lewis.” She sat on the couch with a sigh. “Take a load off. I need to ask you a couple of questions.”
“Marquez will be okay?” Diver asked.
“In the short term, yes.” The doctor leaned forward, hands clasped on her knees. “Look, I won’t beat around the bush. Does Marquez use anything?”
“Use?” Summer repeated.
“Drugs. Coke, maybe, or amphetamines? We’re running her blood work right now, but she came in with the pulse rate of a hummingbird, and drug usage would fit with some of her other symptoms.”
“Marquez would never use drugs,” Summer said automatically.
Diver looked away.
The doctor pursed her lips. “Has she been exercising excessively lately, losing a lot of weight? Maybe bingeing and purging…you know, throwing up after meals?”
“She’s been on a real exercise jag, yeah,” Summer said. “And she’s lost a lot of weight really fast. We’ve all told her a zillion times how great she looks—”
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