Head Over Heels

by Serena Bell

  “I don’t know when I started loving you,” I admit. “It might be that I loved you that night when you looked me up and down on that first date and said it was never going to work, and I was so relieved because I knew nothing ever worked and this time I didn’t have to go through all the bullshit of having it be wonderful and then gone.”

  He makes a noise, like he’s going to contradict me, but I put a hand up because I have to get through this; I have to say it all. He needs to know. “And you kept being that way, so honest and so safe. You were the one person who I didn’t need anything from so you couldn’t take anything away, and then suddenly I did, and that was terrifying, and I couldn’t get back to feeling safe with you again, and then when you said you wanted me to stay—”

  He sighs. “I should have known you’d freak out. I knew your history. But I—” He looks away. “I never told you this, but when Thea broke up with me, she said something so similar to what you said the other night. That she’d always want me to be more like her, but she knew she couldn’t ask me to change for her, that it wouldn’t work.”

  “Oh,” I say, stricken. “Oh, God. Chase, no. God, no. I don’t want you to be more like me. I love that you’re nothing like me. I love that about us, the way we strike sparks, the way we tease, the ways we’re nothing alike but somehow fit together.”

  Quietly, roughly, he says, “Do you know what I want for Katie?”

  I shake my head. My throat is tight with unshed tears.

  “I want her to grow up to be high maintenance and low maintenance and girly and tomboyish and artsy and sporty and rough and polished and loving action flicks and loving chick flicks and—”

  Chase’s voice breaks.

  Chase’s voice breaks.

  I’m crying. I grab the belt of my trench coat and wipe away the tears, but it doesn’t help much. I throw my arms around him and he rocks me back and forth, and oh my God, everything fits. He, the house, this family—everything wraps around me, and I’m home.

  I eventually stop crying and can talk again.

  “There’s this part at the end of La La Land—that’s what I watched in the hotel last night—where the whole life he could have had flashes before his eyes. Everything, how it would have been if he hadn’t fucked up. And this morning I knew that’s how it would be if I kept driving. Every time someone said the word home, this is what I would picture. This living room, you and me watching our movies. Or the dining room with you and me and Katie. Every party I went to, I’d think about the barbecue we had. Every guy who asked me out—”

  Chase roars. I don’t even think it’s actual words, just outrage.

  “It’s not going to happen! I came back!”

  He gives me a dark, dark look: better not.

  Mmm. I do so love Chase’s possessive thing.

  “Anyway, I didn’t want to be like the La La Land hero anymore, with the life I wanted just a film playing in my mind.”

  He points a finger at me. “Damn straight. Good thing you came when you did. I had just about given up on you.”

  Fear flickers. “You had?”

  “Don’t be fucking ridiculous,” he says, and wraps me up in his arms again.

  Chapter 52

  Chase

  “Daddy, why are you making pancakes?”

  “I thought you might like some.”

  “Aren’t pancakes just for fesshul occasions?”

  “This is a special occasion, Katie girl.”

  “What occasion?”

  “We have a visitor.”

  Her eyes get really big. “Is it Granna Emily?”

  I shake my head. “Nope.”

  She looks disappointed, but I know she’s not going to be disappointed.

  I’m not disappointed. I’m totally fucking exhausted, from, well, totally fucking all night long, but I’m the happiest guy on the whole planet. And it makes me even happier to think about how Katie’s going to be when she finds out who our visitor is.

  “Is it Nana and Papa?”

  “Nope.”

  “Is it Uncle Henry?”

  “Nope.”

  “It’s me!” says Liv, appearing in the door of the kitchen. She’s wearing actual clothes. One thing we did do last night was unload her suitcase from the car. Just that one suitcase. I suspect Liv will never have many permanent belongings, a subconscious hedge against feeling like she might have to move again at any moment. That’s fine, as long as she knows that wherever she goes, Katie and I are going with her.

  “Livvy, Livvy, Livvy, Livvy, Livvy!” Katie bellows, and throws herself across the kitchen and into Liv’s arms.

  Katie extricates herself from Liv and eyes her suspiciously. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m going to stay here with you and your dad, and I’ll get a job here. Your dad thinks I’m going to come work for him, but we’ll have to talk about that.” She winks at me. We did talk a little bit about it last night. About how we could turn the running of the store itself over to Brooks and Rodro and work to build an outdoor adventure arm for the business. I could lead trips, and she and Katie could come along whenever they wanted. Until I knock her up, that is. We both agreed more kids was on our shared list of future goals.

  Katie’s face is wary. “And you won’t leave again?”

  It’s possible I get a little teary eyed.

  A fearful look crosses Liv’s face, and I know what she’s thinking. Life is uncertain. People leave, they betray you, they make mistakes that separate you from them, they die.

  But I will not let her be afraid, not if I can help it.

  “You and I, we won’t let her, right, Katie girl? Not if it’s within our power.”

  Liv’s eyes fill up with tears.

  I draw closer to Liv, and tuck her in tight under my arm against my body. Katie sidles closer, too, and when Liv turns her body toward mine and lays her cheek against my chest, Katie makes herself the bread in our sandwich.

  We stay like that for a long time.

  “You know,” Liv tells Katie. “I was getting pretty tired of being a come-and-go person. I think I’m really going to enjoy being a stay person from now on.”

  “Yay!” says Katie, jumping up and down.

  I finish cooking the pancakes and frying up the bacon, while Katie and Liv “make” the table.

  I’m done first, while they’re still fussing, and I give them a hard time about how the food’s getting cold, but I actually like it. Even the little vase of wildflowers that Liv sent Katie outside to pick.

  When the table’s made, we sit down to eat together as a family.

  Chapter 53

  Chase

  “This is my perfect day,” Brooks says.

  “Even though Eve’s here?”

  We hiked three miles today, scouting out a new “family-friendly” location. My pack was a little heavier than usual, since over the course of the four miles it gradually took on most of the weight that started out in Katie’s. And there was a good amount of coaxing involved. But it was all worth it. It was worth it to see Katie’s eyes get huge when she saw the lake.

  Eve has Katie at water’s edge and they’re looking for lake fairies. Brooks and I are freshwater “pan fishing,” which basically means we threw a bunch of hooks, sinkers, line, lures, and bobbers in our packs and cast without rods into the lake, and have our fingers crossed for something worth eating.

  “It was a little awkward at first,” Brooks admitted. “I might add to my list of useful rules that you shouldn’t sleep with your friend’s girlfriend’s best friend. But at the time, she wasn’t your girlfriend. Anyway, it’s been fine. We just talk to you or Katie or Liv instead of to each other.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “Mature.”

  As often happens these days, my attention wanders from what I’m doing to check out what
the other two members of my family are up to. I smile when I see Liv, sitting on a rock, reading on her Kindle. (“One hundred-eighty grams, Chase. Even you can’t argue with that.” “But it’s so not the wilderness.” “It’s my version of wilderness.”)

  Liv has made camping her own, the way she makes everything she touches her own, and better in the process. She decorates the tent, she reinvents camp food to make it gourmet, and when she’s uncomplainingly put in the hours to hump her pack up to the top of a gorgeous mountain, her very favorite thing to do is put her feet up, take in the sights, and read a good romance novel.

  If this trip with Katie works out, we’ll host a similar one later this summer with several families with kids. We’ve already led a couple of smaller trips, and they’ve been so popular that in some cases our wait lists are twice or three times as big as the number of people we can take with us. We’re in the process of hiring more staff to do trips. The store is doing the best it has ever done, thanks to Liv’s constant supply of new ideas for reaching out to customers. Her most recent was the idea of hosting trips for high school girls in the summer—the first is in a couple of weeks, and Liv has already knocked herself out making a guidebook for what to bring and what not to bring and how to handle all the girl stuff that might come up in a camping context. I didn’t ask her for details.

  The store’s doing so well, in fact, that I’m on track to pay Mike off several years sooner than either of us predicted. Which makes both him and me really happy, as you might imagine.

  Oh, and—because I know that someday the store will be Katie’s—if she wants it—Liv and I decided to rename it. We threw a grand reopening for Katie’s Sporting Goods. Liv planned the event and I didn’t even complain when some of the catering was sushi. “Fish theme,” she said, smirking at me, and I shut up, because I decided it would be more fun to take my revenge on her later.

  What else? Right. Liv and I didn’t hire Gillian after all. It turned out we couldn’t give her enough hours, because with both Liv and me working in the store, we were able to arrange our schedule so that between the local pre-K and us, we didn’t need to hire a nanny. Gillian was a little bummed, but she found a great job with another family with two little girls, and last I heard, she was super happy.

  Liv tracked down her foster sister, the one who taught her to carry her home on her back, and they spent a weekend together. Her foster sister is married now, with kids, so Liv discovered a foster niece and nephew. The niece is Katie’s age, and we’re going to get them together as soon as we can arrange a visit. Maybe we’ll take her on a camping trip with us.

  And speaking of camping: Brooks and I manage a good haul of bluegill, and we cook it over an open fire. Katie sticks with pita and peanut butter, but the rest of us are in heaven, because there is nothing better than fresh-caught, fire-cooked bluegill.

  “I would rather eat like this than in any fancy restaurant in the world,” Liv says.

  It might be the bluegill talking or it might be the wineskin full of merlot she humped up here. She and Eve have been drinking straight from the canteen for several hours…

  After dinner, Liv and I tuck Katie into the tent that she and Liv and I will share. By the time we get to the last sentence of her new favorite book—“And then Super Sara hung her cape on the hook and got into her bed with Big Dog and Leo the Lion tucked in next to her and closed her eyes and fell asleep.”—her eyes are already closed.

  We both kiss Katie, then back out of the tent to rejoin Eve and Brooks at the fire.

  Liv grabs my arm. “Chase. Wait.”

  I look at what’s grabbed her attention, and my eyes almost fall out of my head. There, at the side of the campfire, are Eve and Brooks—kissing. And it’s not a little peck, either. It’s one of those kisses that instantly makes you feel like a dirty old man for watching.

  “Whoa.”

  “Yeah, whoa. Didn’t they sleep together after the barbecue?”

  I nod.

  “Eve never goes back for seconds. Never.”

  “It’s just a kiss,” I say, shrugging, although my mind’s a bit blown, too. How did they get from awkward to this so fast?

  She grins at me. “It’s never just a kiss. Not if it’s any good at all.”

  “So, um, this might be our cue to find a different place to hang out for a bit?”

  “Walk down to the water?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Soak up the scenery?”

  “Yup.”

  Remember how I said that Liv had made camping her own? She’s changed it for me, too. Aside from all the other good stuff—how being with her makes everything more fun, how great she is with Katie on the trail, and how her camping cooking is about ten thousand times better than what I’m used to—I now get hard basically every time I see a mountain lake. Because let’s face it, for all the things Liv and I can turn into an argument, we’re completely in agreement about one thing: on that first date when we said we’d be a disaster together?

  We were so unbelievably wrong.

  We’re so good together.

  To Liz, who taught me to love camping and how to sing all the best trail songs.

  Acknowledgments

  Heartfelt thank-yous to my beloved agent Emily; my superstar editor Sue and the fabulous team at Loveswept (including Dan, Grant, and Lisa, who don’t always get props but who thoroughly deserve them); my first round of readers—Amber, Mauri, and Kris—who suffered with me through the draftiest draft in draftdom; Amber and Mauri again for ridiculous quantities of moral support; Rachel, who talked me through this book’s first and last crisis and may be its official midwife; and ever and always my adored kiddos and hubby, who never lose patience and love my characters as if they’re real people we’ve asked to dinner.

  Also, to every guy who’s every posted about fishing on the internet, I hope I’ve done your world justice—so long, and thanks for all the fish.

  MORE BOOKS BY SERENA BELL

  Do Over

  Head Over Heels

  Sleepover (coming soon)

  Returning Home

  To Have and to Hold

  Can’t Hold Back

  Hold on Tight

  Seattle Grizzlies

  Getting Inside

  Standalones

  Yours to Keep

  After Midnight (novella)

  Turn Up the Heat

  PHOTO: © SUSAN YOUNG PHOTOGRAPHY

  USA Today bestselling author and RT Reviewers’ Choice Award nominee SERENA BELL writes richly emotional stories about big-hearted characters with real troubles and the people who are strong and generous enough to love them. A former journalist, Serena has always believed that everyone has an amazing story to tell if you listen closely enough, and she adores hiding in her tiny garret office, mainlining chocolate and bringing to life the tales in her head. When not writing, Serena loves to spend time with her college-sweetheart husband and two hilarious kiddos—all of whom are incredibly tolerant not just of Serena’s imaginary friends but also her enormous collection of constantly changing and passionately embraced hobbies, ranging from needlepoint to board games to meditation.

  serenabell.com

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  Read on for an excerpt from

  Sleepover

  by Serena Bell

  Available from Loveswept

  Sawyer

  “It’s a shithole.”

  Brooks stands on the sidewalk outside my new place, arms crossed.

  “Thanks,” I tell my brother.

  “Well, it is.”

  I sigh. “That’s the point. I’m supposed to fix it up.”

  “Well, you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

/>   Typical Brooks. Doesn’t mince words, doesn’t apologize. Most of the time, those are great traits in a brother, especially for a guy like me who’s zero bullshit. But every once in a while I wish he’d beat around the bush or drop a white lie, especially when it comes to the house I’m going to be living in for at least the next few months with my eight-year-old son, Jonah.

  Brooks has a point, though. The roof shingles are peeling, there’s enough moss up there that I think a tree is starting to sprout, the house desperately needs a paint job—which I’m pretty sure also means some of those siding boards are going to need replacing. The yard is overgrown, a miniature suburban jungle.

  The good news is, the more work I do on the house and landscaping, the less rent I pay.

  The bad news is, for the first few month at least, Jonah and I are going to be living in a dump. And I’ve seen the inside. It’s not a lot better.

  A car pulls up to the curb behind the Penske truck I rented for this move. It’s Brooks’s friend Chase, with my son, Jonah, in the backseat. I can see him through the window, his too-long hair shadowing his face as he leans over my cellphone, playing a videogame. Chase tosses words over his shoulder to Jonah, and Jonah replies. Knowing my son, he’s saying, I’ll be there as soon as I finish this game. Those are the words most often uttered in my house, besides C’mon, Dad, really?

  Chase gets out of the car and ambles toward us. “It’s—got promise.” He eyes the house like he’s looking hard for something that would make his words true.

  I raise an eyebrow at Brooks, like, See, that’s how it’s done.

  Brooks shrugs. “I tell it like it is. No lube for you, asshole.”

  “You are such a dick.”

  “We share fifty percent genetic material.”