Second Chance Summer
Allie Boniface
Book 1 in the
Whispering Pines Sweet Small Town Romance Series
Copyright © 2020 DFM Publishing
Cover Art by Wicked Smart Designs
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Second Chance Summer (Whispering Pines Sweet Small Town Romance, #1)
BEFORE
Ten Years Later | Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
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Also By Allie Boniface
She can’t remember her past. He’s on the run from his. Love may be their only hope.
Ten years after leaving home, the last thing Summer Thompson expects is to inherit her estranged father's half-renovated mansion. And the last thing she wants is to face the memories of the night her brother died, fleeting as they may be. Now a San Francisco museum curator, she plans to stay east just long enough to settle the estate and get rid of the house. Until she finds it occupied by a hunky handyman who's strangely reluctant to talk about his past.
Damian Knight has been hiding his mother and sister from a violent ex, and Whispering Pines is the one place they’ve found peace and safety. He keeps to himself. He tells no one about his past. Yet when the lonely, haunted Summer steals his heart, he finds himself opening up to her in ways he should never risk. Especially to a woman who's planning to leave town after selling their refuge out from under them.
As their attraction grows, the past begins to catch up with them. Summer's mounting flashbacks leave her confused and determined to uncover the truth about the night her brother died. But that truth will cross paths with the man Damian and his family have been avoiding for years.
Can new love help them defeat the pain of the past? Or are some scars too deep to ever heal?
Other Books in the Whispering Pines Sweet Small Town Romance Series:
Autumn Allure
Spring Secrets
Winter’s Wonder
BEFORE
Ten years old.
Everything was new.
Summer spread her arms wide and spun in circles. Favorite red dress. Favorite yellow shoes. She didn’t care if Gabe Roberts had made fun of them on the playground. Rachael said that meant he liked her, but that was just gross. Boys were annoying, obnoxious, and smelled bad. They liked snakes and cars and didn’t care if they got dirty. She’d never have a boyfriend. Not ever.
“Come on!” Rachael waved from the end of the dock. “You can see the fish today. There are hundreds of them.” She bent over the water, hands on her knees, as her white-blonde hair caught the afternoon sun. “Hurry!”
So Summer did. She ran down the lawn and across the gravel road that wound all the way from Whispering Pines over the mountain to Silver Valley. She’d never been to Silver Valley, but some of her friends had, like Tina Driver and Maddie Ostrander. But Tina and Maddie were rich and had two parents and two cars and went out to dinner at restaurants with cloth napkins and tablecloths.
Summer Thompson wasn’t rich. She didn’t have a mom. She got most of her clothes from the Pretty Penny Secondhand Shop downtown, and sometimes Dad made the same thing for dinner a lot of nights in a row. But she didn’t care. Rachael Hunter was her best friend in the whole world, and if you had one of those, Summer figured, you couldn’t ever be really poor or really sad.
Plus, Rachael lived on Whispering Pines Lake as of a few months ago, and that was better than any fancy restaurant or brand new dress. Summer skipped onto the dock beside Rachael. The water stretched out in front of them, deep and blue and forever wide. Summer couldn’t even see the houses on the other side. Her father had told her he grew up there, but when he talked about growing up, his eyes turned sad and squinty. Sometimes he stopped talking altogether. Those were the times Summer let her little brother Donny follow her over to Rachael’s, even though Donny was five years old and probably didn’t even know why Dad stopped talking in the first place.
“Aarrghh!”
The fish scattered as a stick hit the water, followed by a dog, followed by Rachael’s little brother Nate, who landed in the water fully clothed. Rachael shrieked.
“Aha! Gotcha!” Nate laughed. He splashed water at them as the dog grabbed the stick in its teeth and headed for shore.
“I hate you.” Rachael stuck out her tongue and propped her hands on her hips. “You are the worst brother ever.” She looped her arm through Summer’s and turned her back on her brother. “Come on. Let’s go back to my room where boys are not allowed.”
Summer stole a look over her shoulder as they retreated down the dock. Nate’s white-blond hair, the perfect match to his sister’s, gleamed wet in the sun. He had a funny gap between his front teeth, and he teased Rachael a lot, which made sense. She knew from experience, that what was what little brothers did.
“Come on.” Rachael tugged her arm again, and they walked across the road and up the steep lawn and inside the red farmhouse that always smelled like fresh bread or soup or cookies. It was one of the best places in the world, and in that moment, with her best friend by her side, Mrs. Hunter taking warm snickerdoodles out of the oven, and the whole afternoon ahead of them, Summer knew that nothing in her life could ever go wrong.
Fourteen years old.
Everything was wrong.
Summer slammed her bedroom door and threw herself onto her unmade bed. She hated Maddie Ostrander. She hated Gabe Roberts for liking Maddie Ostrander. But most of all, she hated herself for liking Gabe in the first place, and for thinking that he’d chosen Summer for his lab partner for any other reason except she was smart.
“Summer?” Donny knocked on her door.
“Go away.”
“I’m hungry.”
“Then eat something.”
“There’s nothing to eat.”
Summer balled her fists under her eyes. “Of course there is. Stop being stupid.”
For a minute, Donny was silent. Then he knocked again. “Can I come in?”
“No.” Why couldn’t she be an only child? Why did she have to have a little brother who followed her everywhere?
“Dad said he wouldn’t be home until late tonight.”
Like that was a big surprise. “I have homework,” she called through the closed door. “I’ll make something for dinner later.”
But a moment later, the knob turned an
yway, and Donny poked his thin, serious face inside. “Please? Can’t I come in just for a minute?”
She turned her back on him and rubbed away tears. “Fine. But don’t talk to me.”
He climbed onto the bed. “Why are you sad?”
“What part of don’t talk to me didn’t you understand?”
The mattress dipped a little as he rearranged himself beside her. When he didn’t speak again, she glanced over her shoulder. Eyes the same deep brown as their father’s. Hair dark blond and wavy like her own. At nine years old, he was still shorter and scrawnier than most of his friends. Her anger eased. It wasn’t Donny’s fault her life was a total mess. She flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling.
“Did you finish your homework?”
He nodded. “Did you?”
She smiled. “Yes, pipsqueak, I did.”
“Do you think Dad’ll let me play Little League?”
“I don’t know.” Little League meant money for uniforms and figuring out a way to get back and forth to practice. Summer couldn’t drive him. She supposed their friends’ parents could drive him if they asked, but they already asked for so much from other people. “I’ll talk to him, okay?”
“Okay.” Donny nodded, and his hair fell into his eyes.
“You need a haircut.” Summer pushed it off his forehead.
“No, I don’t.” He swatted her hand away. “I’m never gonna cut it again.”
“Then I’ll cut it in your sleep.”
His eyes grew wide. “No!”
“I’m just kidding.” She sat up and checked her cell phone. It was secondhand, and she couldn’t do anything on it except call or text. She ran her thumb over the screen. They didn’t have Wifi in the house either, or cable, or anything that pretty much every other eighth-grader had.
My life sucks.
No one had texted her since school got out, not even Rachael, probably because every other eighth grader she knew was either at field hockey or football or soccer practice. Or making out in the hallway. Or holding hands while they took selfies and posted them online so everyone who had a real cell phone could comment on the pictures and talk about them tomorrow. She tried not to think about the pictures she’d seen today of Gabe and Maddie doing just that.
“Summer?” Donny patted her leg.
“What?”
“It won’t always be like this.”
She looked over at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, things will change. That’s what Mrs. Targarean told me today. She said even if you’re sad or scared about something, it won’t stay that way forever.”
“Oh, buddy.” Summer pulled him into a tight embrace. “Are you sad or scared about something?” Add that to her list of failures: being a lousy older sister. Even if her life sucked, Donny’s shouldn’t have to.
“Not really. But sometimes it seems like you are.” He sighed and rested his head on her shoulder.
For a few moments, she listened to him breathe, to the quiet rhythm of his chest rising and falling close to hers. “You’re right,” she said after a while. “Things will change.” They always did.
Eighteen years old.
Everything was amazing.
Summer sat on the hood of Gabe’s convertible and watched him balance three ice cream cones in his hands. A warm summer night, graduation behind them, and a long, beautiful July and August ahead of them. Life couldn’t get any better.
“Did you get mint chocolate chip again?” Donny asked from the back seat.
“Of course.” She never got anything else. “Get out of the car to eat. Gabe’ll kill you if you spill ice cream on the leather.”
Donny laughed but obliged, crawling over the seats. “No, he won’t. Gabe likes me.”
“Whatever.” Summer rolled her eyes and took the cone from her boyfriend of four amazing months. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Gabe leaned over and kissed her, taking his time, letting his tongue linger on hers, even though the parking lot was full and probably everyone was watching.
Let them watch. I have the best boyfriend in the world. No, in the universe.
“Gross,” Donny said. “Be careful. You might suck her face off.”
“Shut up,” Summer said, her cheeks hot. Gabe just smiled and handed Donny his chocolate and orange twist with rainbow sprinkles.
“That’s gross,” Summer said. “How can you eat all those different flavors?”
Donny took an enormous bite of ice cream rather than answer. Gabe slid onto the hood beside Summer. His leg pressed against hers, warm and strong, and she went tingly all over, the ways she always did around him. “You can stay over tonight?” he whispered as Donny trotted over to talk to some other middle schoolers.
“Yeah. I told my dad I was sleeping at Rachael’s, so he won’t expect me ‘til tomorrow sometime.”
“Donny won’t say anything?”
“Nah.” Her little brother could be stupid sometimes, but he looked up to Gabe and pretty much worshipped the ground the guy walked on. Donny would take a secret to the grave if Gabe asked him to.
“Good.” Gabe licked his cone and gave her a long look. “Because I can’t wait to be alone with you.”
Tingles again. Everywhere. She’d never imagined it could feel this amazing to have a boyfriend. She thought about Gabe all the time, from the moment she woke up until she went to sleep at night. She loved the silly texts he sent her, the way his hand felt holding hers, the way he looked at her right before he kissed her. And even though he was going away to college at the end of August, they had two long months until that happened. They didn’t have to think about saying goodbye. They didn’t have to think about anything except stretching out every day as long as they could, starting with tonight.
His parents were away for the weekend, which meant their lake house was empty. Gabe touched her thigh, and she glanced at him sideways. She wasn’t sure she loved him—she wasn’t sure what love was supposed to feel like—but this seemed pretty close. Trusting him. Wanting to be with him. Thinking about how all the strands of her life wove around him, and it was a hundred times better than it had ever been before. She laced her fingers through his and counted the hours before they could be alone.
I want everything to stay just like this forever...
Ten Years Later
Chapter One
“He left me a house?”
Summer stared at the solid silver container holding her father’s remains. She’d always pictured someone’s ashes preserved in a fancy urn. Something sculpted or carved, meaningful and dignified. Instead, Hope Memorial Services, following Ronald Thompson’s wishes, had sealed his remains in a six-by-eight-inch metal box, which now sat in the center of Joe Bernstein’s desk.
“The McCready estate, yes,” the lawyer said. “Although calling it a house might be...” He stopped and cleared his throat.
“A stretch of the imagination?” Summer was surprised the thing still stood. Kids in town had always called the place haunted and avoided it on their way to school. Teenagers broke into it, leaving behind empty beer cans and used condoms. Adults mostly ignored it, driving by its thick hedgerow without so much as a glance at the craggy black rooftop.
Now she owned it?
“Well, yes. He didn’t do much work on it. He had a lot of plans, though.”
“This doesn’t make any sense. I haven’t lived here since—”
She stopped. Summer hadn’t spoken to her father in ages. She’d never imagined he owned anything more than the clothes on his back. “Why would he leave me a house?”
The lawyer didn’t answer.
She blinked a few times, then shook her head. “Well, obviously I’ll sell it.” She’d left Whispering Pines ten years ago. She wouldn’t have any reason to stay once she put her father’s affairs to rest. She smoothed her suit jacket and brushed the edge of the engraved business card holder deep in her pocket.
Summer Thompson, Chief Curator, Bay City Museum of
History. Knowing the words were there, close to her skin, brought some comfort. She could do this. She could go through her father’s affairs and spend a few days in her hometown. Then she’d hop a plane back to San Francisco and be done with it all. Within the museum walls, her world made sense. She could return to the business of cataloging other people’s lives and studying long-gone civilizations. She could organize press conferences, plan exhibit openings, and design educational seminars for local schoolchildren.
Outside those walls? She lost her voice. She lost her grip. Amnesia had created a world where Summer couldn’t puzzle together the last decade of her own life. Even this meeting was a kind of surreal, underwater dream. She could barely say the word father, because Ronald Thompson hadn’t been one to her in almost a decade. She mourned his death, in a detached sort of way, but she hadn’t spoken to him in years. All the plans and details his lawyer had laid out for her meant little. She didn’t belong in Whispering Pines anymore, and she wasn’t about to open old wounds by staying any longer than she had to.
She took another look at the papers on the table. “You’re absolutely sure he owned the McCready estate? Free and clear?” She almost expected a cameraman to jump out from behind a door and tell her she was the star of a joke reality show.
“I did all the paperwork for him when he bought it.”
Summer refrained from asking when that had been. I would’ve come back. Maybe. If he’d asked me just once.
But he hadn’t.
“You might want to take a look at the place before you make any decisions,” Joe went on. “I know what you think. It’s always been a mess. Deserted since before any of us can recall. But it’s beautiful, despite being, well, a little worse for wear. Your father had vision.”
Your father. Her lips pressed together, and her heart ached despite her resolve to remain cool and collected. It could have been different. But he hadn’t wanted it to be.
“Summer?”
“I’ll drive out this afternoon,” she said as she pulled out her cell phone to check her messages. “But I can tell you already, I won’t be keeping the house.” She couldn’t imagine what it looked like inside. Even in good condition, it would be ten times bigger than she needed. And she’d never live in Whispering Pines again. Too many ghosts here. Too much heartache. “Can you give me the name of a couple local realtors?”
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