Step Summer

by Gallagher, Tanya

  She walks to the cabinets and rifles through to find the perfect glass. I can’t help feeling like she’s looking for evidence of my corruption, but it’s not the alcohol or the drugs she needs to worry about.

  It’s the fact that I want to corrupt her daughter. With my mouth. With my cock.

  I shake the thought from my mind and help myself to a La Croix water. Personally, I think the drinks taste kind of empty, like they have the memory of flavor instead of just having flavor, but McKenna keeps insisting we buy them for the house. Now I grab one just to feel like she’s here with me.

  “Let’s sit outside,” Jodi says, and when we step onto the deck, she takes a deep breath. “God, don’t you just love the smell of the ocean?” She turns to my dad, her eyes bright. “That’s the smell of summer.”

  My dad kisses her, and I drop my gaze from their tender display. I walk to the railing and lean over, opening my drink with a satisfying click. I take a swig and let the bubbles fizz up my nose, only turning around when I hear someone dragging the lounge chairs into place.

  “Tell us how you’re doing, Blake,” my dad says.

  I lean my back against the railing, not quite ready to take the seat next to them.

  “Good, I guess. Sober, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  He looks offended. “That wasn’t what I was asking.”

  I hold up a hand. “Sorry.” Pretty sure I’m just giving them ammunition, another reason to think I don’t entirely have my shit together. Which is true.

  I start over. “I’m okay. Keeping busy. Going to the gym.”

  I should probably pay up and just get the damn weekly pass, or even the monthly one, since each time I go solo it costs me more than it should, but I still can’t commit.

  Still, yesterday morning another kid came up to me and asked for pointers. Susie smirked at me like, See? I told you so. And it’s making me start to reconsider the personal trainer thing. I mean, if I’m going to be there anyway, it might be nice to get paid.

  My dad’s eyebrows draw together, and he lowers his voice. “Did you figure out what’s happening with your house?”

  I press the can of sparkling water to my forehead, needing the cold bite of aluminum against my skin to steady me. “Haven’t talked to Hailey just yet,” I grind out. She’s sent me enough text messages, but the idea of trying to split our assets makes me want to put a fist through the wall. We never got married, thank god, but we lived together. Does half of the stuff I own suddenly become hers because she hung out long enough to think she has a claim on it?

  I catch him shoot Jodi a look.

  “Don’t you think it’s about time to get the ball rolling?”

  Nice to see you too, Dad.

  Jodi puts a hand on his knee, and he bites off whatever he was about to say next.

  “You can stay here as long as you need, Blake,” she says, and my dad nods.

  “You and McKenna getting along okay?” he asks.

  I choke on my drink. A little too well, actually. “Yeah, we’re good. She’s keeping busy with the garden.”

  “And work?” Jodi asks.

  “Yeah, she’s working a ton.”

  “Good.”

  “Speaking of which,” my dad starts, and all the attention swings back to me. “What are you planning to do for a job?”

  I grit my teeth and hope McKenna comes home soon.

  * * *

  “Hey, what are we doing for dinner?” McKenna calls, walking into the house a few hours later. Jodi and my dad have already put me through the wringer, and I’m exhausted. “I can make you an overcooked hot dog special if you want to head to the beach.”

  McKenna’s eyes go wide the second she spots my dad and her mom sitting on the couch in the living room, and it’s kind of funny to see her have the same reaction I did a few hours ago, but it also kind of breaks my heart.

  She straightens quickly and pastes on a smile, but she looks so damn uncomfortable.

  “Hey, Mom.” She wraps Jodi in a hug, then my dad. “Sorry guys, I smell like chlorine.”

  Jodi waves away McKenna’s apology and tugs the hem of her daughter’s Putt-Putt Hut shirt in a simple gesture of affection. “Was Brooke there today?”

  “Of course.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  McKenna smiles. “She’s living it up. Enjoying her last summer before full-time employment.”

  I remember being Brooke and McKenna’s age and feeling like I needed to hold on to that last summer before college ended. Before the rest of my life began. I guess choosing a sports career that felt like a continuation of college was my way of dodging the bullet on that one, but I’m back in the phase of figuring out what I want to do with my life, too.

  “Have you given any thought to your full-time employment?”

  Guess McKenna’s going to get grilled the way I did.

  “Mom,” McKenna groans. “Only every second of every day.”

  “You’re going to go back to school, too, right?”

  My jaw tightens as I see how upset McKenna is, a frown on her pretty lips, her forehead wrinkled. There was no one here when I got the third degree, but maybe I can take some of the heat off her now. Ever since the Fourth, my charade of looking out for her for my dad’s sake has been smashed to pieces, but I still want to protect her. She deserves someone on her side.

  I speak without thinking. “Cut her some slack.”

  All the eyes in the room swing back to me.

  Shit.

  I should stop now, but they’re all waiting for me to continue. “You can’t tell her you want to give her space to explore her options and then tell her there’s only one right choice.”

  The room falls into a hush, and my dad and Jodi exchange another look. “No, Blake’s right,” Jodi says, giving McKenna an apologetic smile. “I’ll back off.”

  “It’s fine,” McKenna says stiffly. Instead of giving me a smile for sticking up for her, she ignores me. Doesn’t even look my way. She’s acting totally different around me now that the parents are here, and I realize how tense she is. She’s holding back on me, hiding whatever this is between us. Which is the smart thing, because how the hell do I even begin to explain the way I feel around her?

  Hopefully I didn’t just give myself away.

  “Blake tells us you’ve been keeping busy in the garden,” Jodi says.

  McKenna finally spares me the briefest glance before looking away.

  “Yeah, it’s been pretty neglected ever since Grandpa passed away.” She pulls on another smile and waves at the sliding glass door. Outside, fat, puffy clouds drift by, touched with the faintest light of sunset. “Can I take you guys down and show you what we’ve done?”

  “I’d love that.” Jodi stands from the couch, ice clinking in her glass. “Lead the way.”

  McKenna brushes past me to open the sliding door onto the deck, never looking my way. The parents trail after her, and I sink onto the nearest couch and fist my hands by my sides.

  This is the reality check of the century. Whatever’s happening with me and McKenna isn’t okay, and it’s not going to happen. Addiction makes you an asshole and a liar, and after years of destroying my parents’ trust, this summer is my chance to earn it back. But here I am, behind their backs, so close to breaking it. This thing between me and McKenna needs to stop.

  I miss her already.

  15

  McKenna

  July

  “And that concludes another successful Putt-Putt Hut experience,” Brooke sings as she locks the front door behind her. We both worked the late shift tonight, and we’ve spilled out front of the mini golf park. The night’s dark and cooling off—the humidity from today fading—and tiny bugs circle in the spotlights pointed at the building’s pirate-themed sign.

  I tip an invisible hat at Brooke as Sam and a small group of our summer friends shuffle up on the sidewalk, ready to party. “As always, it’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

  Broo
ke grins at me, then shrieks as Sam wraps his arms around her waist and presses a kiss on her shoulder.

  I blow out a breath, trying not to be jealous of how easy it is for them to show affection with each other. I want that in my life too, so, so badly. I step closer to my bike, which I left propped against the side of the building.

  “Bay Village?” Sam asks, nodding his chin toward the shopping area down the block.

  “I’m in,” Brooke says.

  I begin to enter the combination on my bike lock, and Brooke grabs my wrist. “Don’t go yet. Don’t you want to stay out with us and play?”

  I grin at her. “Yeah, I kinda do.” I spin the numbers on the lock to scatter them again, then dig my phone out of my purse. “Let me just tell Blake.”

  She raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say anything.

  I walk halfway down the block to make the call. Blake’s been more distant than normal the last two days, and for someone who once accused me of being weird, he’s doing an awful lot of running away from me right now. When our parents came to visit, it was fine to not talk—it was better that way, when I couldn’t risk opening my mouth and telling anyone how much I’m starting to care about him. But they’ve been gone for the last two days, and Blake hasn’t turned back into the Blake I’ve come to know. I wonder if they said something to him, or if maybe I did something wrong.

  Blake picks up on the third ring.

  “Hey,” he says. His voice sounds distant and clipped. “What’s up?”

  I don’t owe him anything right now, but other than the last two days, he and I have spent every night together for the past few weeks. It would feel weird to just not show up at home. “Just wanted to tell you I’m staying out late.”

  “Sure.”

  “O-kay,” I say, ready to click off, but then a ping of anger bounces in my chest. “Why the hell are you being so weird?”

  It’s his turn to let out a startled laugh. “I’m not being weird.”

  “You totally are. And if you get to call me out on it, then it’s a two-way street.”

  “Fine,” he says, his voice warming. “In the spirit of not being weird, do you need a chaperone tonight?”

  My body tenses, and I hope to god he’s not talking about the Fourth of July and that disaster. “Um, chaperone?”

  He laughs on his end of the line. “I’m kidding, McKenna.” His voice tickles my ear. “Do you want company?”

  My chest loosens and my shoulders relax. He sounds closer to himself again, and I want to lean into this moment. I curl around the phone to hide my smile. Down the block, Sam’s twirling Brooke in circles while our other friends look on, shaking their heads. “Okay, yeah. Come on out.” I place a hand over the mouthpiece on the phone and shout at my friends. “Where are we going?”

  My friend Max shrugs and calls back, “Arcade?”

  Perfect.

  I turn back to the phone and give Blake directions, then follow the crowd down the block.

  Blake arrives like a hurricane fifteen minutes later, so thrilling and electric that it takes me a second to catch my breath when I spot him weaving through the crowd. He’s wearing a thin T-shirt that clings to his firm, dangerous biceps and broad shoulders, the material pulled tight over the plane of his abs.

  As Blake strides toward our little crowd outside the arcade doors, his presence commands every eye in a half-block radius, and next to my college-age guy friends, it’s suddenly apparent how much of a man he is. The sight of his strong, controlled body is such a turn-on that I have to spin away and pretend to dig in my purse.

  For what? A wallet? A phone?

  Blake’s heat warms the whole side of my body as he stops next to me, and then his voice curls in my ear.

  “Fantasy Island, huh?”

  I peek at Blake out of the corner of my eye and abandon my purse. He inspects the carnival rides next to the arcade, then shakes his head with a slow smile curving his lips. He flicks his eyes to my face, full of heat. “I don’t know,” he says, low in my ear. “My fantasies look a little different.”

  Oh, shit, shit, shit. Am I one of them?

  I want to be.

  I gulp as my clit throbs.

  “Ready for some games?” I ask, desperate to break the tension. I turn to my friends. Dave and Amber round out our group, and everyone nods yes. “Awesome.”

  I pull open the door to the arcade, and a stream of noise and light blasts out at me. The arcade pings with the sound of twenty different games, and the flashing lights make my head reel.

  I lose sight of our crew as people disperse to different games—Brooke to the Space Invaders game, Dave and Amber to whack-a-mole. Max follows me, and we weave through the crowd to buy tokens. I know I should be on my best behavior, but as I feed bills into the machine, I can’t keep my eyes off of Blake, who’s halfway across the room doing a slow, careful assessment of the games.

  A bunch of tokens rattle into my hands, and Max leans his arm on the top of the machine.

  “So, Mac Attack, you gonna get lucky tonight?” The nickname sets my teeth on edge, but he’s trying to be nice. His only crime right now is an overly-aggressive cologne application.

  I hold up a fistful of tokens and smile back at him. “I play to win.”

  “Then what’ll it be?”

  “Mmm, ski ball is calling to me.” Maybe I was born in the wrong decade because I love the old-fashioned game. It’s part luck, but mostly skill. I like having a chance to win on my own terms.

  Max sets up shop at the ski ball lane next to mine, and I push my tokens into the slot and wait for my set of balls to load up. The game starts, and together we roll balls down the lane. I forget about Max and start concentrating on my own game, laughing and breathless as I toss balls into the fifty and hundred-point buckets.

  “Yes!”

  I feel the heat of eyes on my back and turn to find Blake leaning against a nearby pinball machine, an amused look on his face. My breath puffs out of me, and I flash him a small smile. Then I turn back to the ski ball machine, which has started spitting out prize tickets.

  “Way to go, Mac Attack.” Max eyes the row of tickets and bumps his shoulder against mine.

  “Thank you.”

  I flick my eyes to back Blake and what I see on his face makes me freeze. His hot gaze is glued to me, to Max’s shoulder on mine. A muscle flexes in his jaw, and I turn away, trying not to notice how he looks almost angry.

  I lean forward and fold up the tickets, then slip them into the pocket of my shorts.

  “Another round?” I ask.

  Before Max has a chance to answer, Blake appears at my side. His presence feels like a storm brewing, like thunder on the horizon.

  “Can I see you privately?” he asks.

  I press a hand against my chest. “Me?” I ask, all innocent.

  “Yeah, you.”

  I turn back to Max. “Keep the game ready for me, will you?”

  Blake practically growls, but his attention feels good and protective. He skims his hand over the small of my back as he guides me to the corner of the room, and goosebumps chase over my skin.

  He’s hot and warm against me, and when we get to the corner, he doesn’t pull away. He leans his other arm against the wall, caging me in, and his assertive stance is so much like my fantasy that my body trembles and grows wet without my permission.

  “You don’t need to hang out with people who don’t deserve you,” he growls in my ear.

  I swallow hard, my throat dry. “Nobody’s doing anything wrong,” I whisper.

  “That kid is definitely hitting on you.”

  I tilt my chin up at him. “So?”

  “So, Mac Attack?” Blake smirks, and I frown at him. “Don’t let anyone talk to you like a child if you want them to touch you like a man.”

  His voice is so damn protective and territorial that my heart races and my breath grows shallow. He doesn’t get to say things like that to me about the way I deserve to be touched—not when he’s
the only one I want touching me. He has to know that I feel that way.

  I force myself to hold his gaze. “Too bad you don’t like kid games,” I say, my voice breathy. I want to know how far I can push him since he’s pushing me right back. “I really, really wanted someone to win me a toy tonight.”

  Blake blinks at me in surprise and huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “Seriously, McKenna?”

  I shrug and slip out from the cage of his arms. “A teddy bear…or maybe a monkey to cuddle with,” I muse as I head back toward my game. I lift a single shoulder. “Oh well.”

  I hold back a smile as Blake follows me through the crowd, and I pretend to ignore him as I drop in tokens for another game. But I feel him step up to the lane that Max was using a minute ago, wordlessly bumping Max another lane down the line, and I hear the clink of tokens falling into Blake’s machine.

  For the first game, I concentrate only on my throws, on whipping the balls down the lane, on feeling out the perfect amount of force to hit those hundreds. But by the second game I give up the ruse and my eyes slip to Blake so often that a little kid walking by has to point out the prize tickets spitting from my machine.

  I don’t even notice Max give up and walk away, don’t pay attention to whether or not Brooke’s staring at me from across the room, eyes bulging out of her head. All my breath, my focus, is trained on Blake beside me—on the strong, flexing muscles of his arms, on the look of determination on his face as he scores for me, racking up tickets. The noise and the color and the lights turn into the kaleidoscope that spins every time I’m near Blake Reynolds. I’ve spent the whole time I’ve known him playing by the rules, sticking to what’s safe, but that’s not happening anymore.

  Now that I’m looking, I can’t look away.

  16

  Blake

  July

  Rain drips outside, pinging down on the roof and washing a swirl of sand down the gutters, and the air feels close and thick. I’m sipping my coffee from a cracked mug that reads You, me, and the sea when I hear McKenna bouncing downstairs. For someone as delicate-looking as she is, she sure makes a hell of a racket coming downstairs. And fuck. Fuuuuccck. She’s wearing sleep shorts and a tiny tank top with no bra. Her nipples poke out from the thin fabric, and her hair has a sexy, slept-in look. It makes me want to take her back to bed with me, which is so damn dangerous to want.