“That sounds like a load of bullshit, considering you came from Dillion’s trailer.” I didn’t see him leave the trailer, but I heard the door close and he’s walking away, so I’m assuming he was in there. With her. Alone. While I’m not particularly worried about Dillion’s ability to take care of herself, I also remember what he said to me about her when I first met him. “So why don’t we try that again. Why are you here?”
“It’s none of your fuckin’ business,” Tucker mutters and then takes an unsteady step to the right, trying to get around me.
“Are you drunk?” I move closer and get a whiff of whiskey and . . . peanut butter?
“Nah, man. I’m fine.”
“Really? Because you smell like you bathed in a bottle of booze. Don’t be comin’ around here messing with Dillion. Especially in this kind of condition. Get yourself together, Tucker, and figure out your shit. She’s moved on, and so should you.”
“With you?” He spits the words.
“With her life. Doesn’t this town already have enough to gossip about without you dragging Dillion into your crap too? She doesn’t need your drama; she has her own stuff to deal with.”
He sags, like an air mattress with a hole in it. “You’re right. I know that. I just thought . . . I don’t know. She was always good at forgiving.”
“She doesn’t do much forgetting, though.” I pull my phone out of my pocket. “I’m going to call you an Uber.”
Tucker shakes his head. “You don’t need to do that; ’sides, it’ll take forever for them to get here. I can walk. I’m only a couple miles down the road.”
“I’d feel better if I knew you made it home okay.” I place the order and wait with him at the end of the driveway for the car to arrive. Of course it’s someone he knows. He gets in the front seat instead of the back and gives me a wave before they head toward town.
I make my way down the driveway, toward Dillion’s trailer. I’m about twenty feet away when she opens the door and tips her head to the side, looking confused about why I’m coming from the top of her driveway.
I thumb over my shoulder. “I sent Tucker the Fucker home in an Uber.”
“Oh.” She crosses her arms and bites her bottom lip. “That was good of you. I probably should’ve thought of that.”
I stop a few feet away, assessing her posture and how tense she seems. “You okay? He didn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable, did he? Because I can go kick his ass if he did.”
Dillion chuckles and drops her arms. “No, he didn’t try anything, and I don’t honestly think it would be a fair fight, since he’s still half-hammered.”
“He smelled like whiskey.”
“That’s because he polished off a flask on his way over.” Dillion exhales loudly and rubs the space between her eyes.
“You want to talk about it? He seemed like he was pretty beat down.”
“Basically his life is a mess. His girlfriend and I used to be friends in high school.” She makes a face. “Not really friends. More like frenemies. Anyway, she had a thing for him back then, and I guess she never stopped having a thing for him. They got together at a party a couple years ago, and now they have a baby. I don’t know all the details, but from what he said, she’s been cheating on him for a while and the baby isn’t even his, so it’s kind of a cluster and he’s right in the middle of it.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. Small-town drama is real.” She twists one of her curls around her finger. “Anyway, I’m running behind because I was dealing with his meltdown. I need to grab a shower before dinner, if you’re still up for it.”
“Absolutely.” I take another step forward, and she takes one back.
“I don’t smell all that fresh.”
“I don’t mind if you don’t.” I link my pinkie with hers and step up so I’m in her personal space. And that’s when I get a full view of the inside of the trailer. “Holy shit, Dillion, it looks like it rained inside here last night.”
“I left the windows open, and there are a few leaks. It could be worse, though.”
“Not by much.” The mattress isn’t even on the bed, and there’s a huge watermark on the wooden platform. It also smells dank, like old wet stuff. “You can’t stay here.”
She waves her hand around in the air, like it’s not a big deal. “I’ll sleep in my brother’s old room until it dries out.”
I point to my chest. “I happen to have a great bed that I’d be willing to share.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Absolutely. It even comes with orgasms. And postorgasm spooning.” I waggle my eyebrows, hoping it will make her laugh.
She chuckles. “Orgasms and spooning? What more could a girl ask for?”
An hour later Dillion has moved her toiletries and a few outfits over to my place, citing that as soon as the trailer is dried out and she’s patched all the holes, she’s moving back to her place. I leave her to shower on her own, aware that she’ll be sleeping beside me tonight, and I’ve already promised orgasms and spooning, so there’s no need to rush things.
She pulls on a pair of jeans and a loose tank, and we climb into Grammy Bee’s old truck.
It takes a few tries to get the engine to turn over. “Any suggestions as to where we should eat?”
It’s not as though we have a huge array of choices. She taps her lip, thinking for a moment. “How about Casual Affair? It’s a couple of steps up from the diner and has better food than the bar. Everything is homemade, so the options are limited, but if you’re into home cooking, it’s honestly the best place in town.”
“I’m game.”
I’m more than happy to try something new. I don’t have a ton of memories of my mom, but she used to make me breakfast every morning and always made fun dinners, like homemade mini pizzas, since my dad often worked long hours. After she passed, our nanny took over making meals for us. She made sandwiches on some ridiculously healthy whole grain seed bread that was gluten- and basically taste-free. I’m hoping this will be different. And better tasting.
When we arrive at the restaurant, we opt for a table on the outdoor patio. It’s a seat-yourself establishment, so we head for the side with the water view. The breeze coming off the lake cuts the heat, and the backdrop of thick green forest is gorgeous.
Dillion stops to say hello to nearly everyone in the place and introduces me as her friend and Bee’s grandson. Each time, I hear a story about my grandmother and how much everyone loved her and misses her. And although the circumstances for my being here aren’t ideal, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
We finally spot a two top near the back of the patio. I move my chair so I’m sitting kitty-corner to Dillion, and our knees bump under the table.
“I thought this was supposed to be a no-contact dinner.”
“Since when?” I stretch one leg out under both of hers.
“Since this morning, when we discussed the whole PDA limitations of this date.”
I scoff and scoot my chair even closer. “I wasn’t even fully awake and was probably talking out of my ass. Nothing I said this morning counts.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “You’re really looking to get into the small-town gossip circuit, huh?”
“News headlines seem like something to aim for.” I lean in and nuzzle her neck, nipping at her skin.
She lets out a small very non-Dillion shriek and covers my entire face with her hand, pushing me away, her eyes darting around the restaurant while her face turns scarlet. “Seriously, Van! You just love being an instigator, don’t you?”
I lean back in my chair, grinning. “Only with you, since you’re so easy to rile up.”
The server comes over, her face matching Dillion’s in color. She can’t make eye contact with me, and of course, Dillion went to school with her older sister, so that turns into a conversation.
Dinner is full of interruptions from locals who want to talk to Dillion. Between catching up with people she went to high s
chool with and clients of her dad’s, we barely get fifteen minutes to ourselves, and I have no more opportunities for embarrassing PDAs. But watching Dillion in her element is enthralling. She’s charming, charismatic, and nothing like the riled-up woman I was dealing with until last night. She’s fascinating.
After we finish stuffing our faces—Dillion was right, the food is amazing; it’s like a barbecue cookout, but better—she suggests we take a walk on the beach. We’re on the southeast side of the lake, not far from where the beach party took place.
I thread my fingers through hers, and we stroll close to the shore. “So how do you like working for your dad?”
“It’s actually been really good. I sort of expected there to be an adjustment period, being family and his daughter, but it’s been nearly seamless.”
“That’s great. Is it the same thing you were doing in Chicago?” I realize I don’t even know what Dillion’s job was, or is.
She nods. “Project management, yeah. It’s similar, just on a smaller scale. I used to manage projects for a pharmaceutical company. It was pretty impersonal, but the money was good, and at the time, that mattered.”
“Because rent in Chicago isn’t cheap?” I ask.
“Exactly. I actually like this better in a lot of ways. I get to help make connections with other small, independent companies, and I know most of the people who run the businesses in town. It’s great to be able to work with other local businesses instead. Sure, I’m still looking for the best deal so we can keep costs down, but the bottom line isn’t always the most important thing in a place like this.” Dillion motions to the line of shops and restaurants behind us.
“It’ll be harder to find a job like that when you go back to Chicago, won’t it?”
“Probably, yeah.” Dillion has an odd look on her face, but I can’t quite read it. It’s a mixture of hesitation and deep thought.
“I don’t know that it’s going to be much different for me.”
“How do you mean?”
“I took a job for a company that specialized mainly in skyscrapers because I loved designing and the company offered me a great salary. I enjoyed what I did, and the money was a serious perk, but I don’t know that I’d be in love with it the same way I was before I came here.”
Dillion tips her head to the side. “What’s changed for you?”
“I don’t know exactly. Nothing and everything, I guess. It’s just . . . different. It makes me question what the hell the point is when all I’m doing is working to live, rather than living to work. If that makes sense.”
Dillion nods. “I know exactly what you mean. I realized that my whole world revolved around work and work people back in Chicago, but here it’s not the same. There’s something about this place—I don’t know what it is, but aside from the gossip, it’s hard not to love it here.”
“I completely agree. And I’m loving working on Bee’s garage, finding a way to take the existing structure and turn it into a functional living space.”
“You should talk to Aaron or my dad about looking at your plans before you start on that. They’ll be able to make sure you’re adhering to the bylaws.”
“I talked to Aaron about it at the beach party.” The beach becomes progressively more overrun with weeds the closer we get to the beach party’s location. “Why doesn’t this get the same treatment as the beach on the other side of the lake?” I thumb over my shoulder.
“Because the other side is where all the summer homes are. They generate income for the town, so they put more effort into maintaining the beach there.”
Here the tree line isn’t interrupted by as many huge homes and docks with boathouses. “But this side is gorgeous. If the beaches were better taken care of, wouldn’t they be even nicer?”
“Maybe. Probably,” Dillion agrees. “But the locals worry the north side people would take it over like they’ve already done on the other side of the lake.”
“So it’s partly intentional?” I press.
“Yes and no. Obviously we’d love to have a nicer public beach, but it’s what we’re used to, and we can’t afford another marina on this lake, which is probably what would end up happening. It’s just too much pollution, you know? This lake used to be pristine, but as soon as they added the marina on the north side, it changed the entire ecosystem. The town tried to fight against one on the other side of the lake, but obviously we lost. They had the money to make it happen, and they have the money to keep the beach clean and family friendly, so that’s where they put it.”
“Do you think they’d want to use this beach when they already have their own?”
“We just don’t want it to catch anyone’s attention. The summer home boundaries are already creeping to the east and west. We don’t want to lose the entire lake. It’s about maintaining balance. So much of the town is based on tourism, and of course we want to keep that thriving, just not at the expense of the entire community.”
“Is there a way to do that? To maintain the beach on this side of the lake without making it too appealing?” I stop to pick up an empty beer bottle and toss it in the trash.
“I don’t think anyone has tried too hard. Bee was vocal at town-council meetings back in the day, but no one else has stepped up to the plate. Besides, there’s a hefty price tag attached to that kind of thing. Maintaining the beach costs man-hours, and that’s not in the town budget.”
“It should be equitable, though, shouldn’t it?” The docks on this side are falling apart, whereas the public beach on the other side has lifeguards, new floating rafts, and gorgeous sand.
Dillion gives me a knowing look. “It all comes down to the money and who’s providing it. The people in this community are middle class, and most of them make ends meet just fine, but they don’t have thousands to spare to pay someone’s salary to maintain a slice of beach.”
It’s not like I don’t already know this. I witnessed it firsthand every summer. While I chose to stay in Grammy Bee’s cottage and spend most of my days on this side of the lake, if I’d wanted to, I could’ve gone to the beach on the other side, and no one would have given me a second glance, but it’s not the same for the locals. Or at least that’s how it seems.
There’s a level of tolerance between the local community and the vacationers. But it isn’t necessarily symbiotic. Especially since now, more and more of the vacation homes are becoming permanent residences, which changes the dynamic of the community. I see it more clearly now than I did when I was younger, and I can only imagine how hard it must have been for Grammy Bee when she married someone her family didn’t approve of and eventually chose his world over her own.
Warning signs are posted at the end of each dock, a single flimsy chain strung across the two anchoring posts. The signs are faded and peeling, indicating that they’ve been in this state of disrepair for a number of years already. Their effectiveness is highly questionable, with a few hanging so low even a toddler could step over them. As if that isn’t bad enough, several docks are missing boards along the way, a gap-toothed grimace of rotten wood.
It’s clear that people use them all the time, though, based on the words carved into the decaying boards. Some of it looks like the work of teenagers, while others are far more sophisticated, with messages like “Protect the South Beach community.” I look around the beach and notice for the first time that the mess from last night has already been cleaned up. Only a few stray red plastic cups are lingering in the bushes, and the bonfire has been put out and marked with signs so kids don’t accidentally run through the ashes.
“How did this get cleaned up so quickly?”
“Usually there’s a group of us who will come with a couple garbage bags to get rid of the trash and make the beach useable again,” Dillion says.
“Were you one of them?”
“Not this time, but Allie and Tawny pitched in while I was at that meeting with my dad.”
“If they’re willing to pick up plastic cups and beer bottles, d
o you think they’d be willing to go further to make it safer, especially the docks? Sometimes people need to see change is possible to be compelled to help make it happen.”
“They might be, but cleaning it up is one thing; fixing all the docks and maintaining them is totally another.” Dillion tucks her thumbs into her back pockets.
“I can look into it,” I say. “See what the town is willing to do to help out, maybe push the Grammy Bee angle, since I know it was important to her?”
She smiles. “She loved it here. More than anyplace in town, this was her favorite. I used to drive out here with her, even in the winter. It’d be balls cold, and she’d bundle up and trudge through the snowbanks just to stand on the beach until we couldn’t feel our toes and the tears froze on our cheeks, thanks to the wind.”
“Sounds like Bee. Did you drink hot toddies afterward?”
“First we stopped at Boones for apple fritters. Then we’d head back and drink spiked hot chocolate. It’s a wonder we never ended up in a sugar coma on those days.”
She used to do exactly the same thing with me, even before I was allowed to drink alcohol legally. It makes me wonder how many of our experiences with Bee echo each other’s, and if she hasn’t been working her magic from the other side by threading our lives together, without us even realizing it.
CHAPTER 18
THE NEW NOT QUITE NORMAL
Dillion
As amazing as sleeping next to Van is, I move back into my trailer after a few nights. He insists that I can stay with him as long as I want, and while the comfort of his bed and the company are incredibly appealing, I cite early mornings and my middle-of-the-night thrashing as reasons why I should stay at my place most of the time.
But the real reason is . . . I’m starting to like him. A lot. And as fun as he is to spend time with, I don’t want to lose sight of my own goals. It would be easy to get caught up in a summer romance, one that invariably has an end date attached to it, and that date is likely going to be sooner rather than later.
Love Next Door Page 18
