Falling In Hard: Book Four in The Bridgeport Lake Summer Series Read online

  I raked a hand through my curls. “He’s totally still into you, girl.”

  Tay sighed and stabbed a fork through her eggs. “If he wasn’t so loyal to Kyle, he never would’ve—”

  “Stop. They’ve been friends since preschool. He had to take his side.”

  “You keep saying that. But I had to take yours.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Kyle called your dad’s death a sob story, Lea.”

  I lifted a shoulder. “And that I’d only win the Sing-Off if I flaunted it in front of the judges. So what?”

  Her lips pursed into a straight line.

  “It’s not a sob story, though, Tay, and I’m not telling the judges anything. I’m beyond over it.” I wasn’t sure I’d be talking to the judges at all. What was the point of the Sing-Off now, anyway? It’s not like anyone would even care if I won, and the chances were tight with Kyle in the running. He might be a jerk, but he was a good singer, and he knew how to fake the holy vibe when he wanted to. I’d never fake it, and I wasn’t feeling anywhere close to holy lately.

  Taylor grunted. “Well, I wasn’t about to let him get away with it. Ryan should’ve had my back. He should’ve had yours.”

  “We’ve been over this.” I sawed through a piece of ham and shoved it in my mouth. It didn’t matter if it tasted like nothing. I had to keep eating, or Mom would freak out again, and I’d be back in the therapy chair and waste half my life talking about the things I didn’t want to even think about.

  She shook her head. “I just don’t get it.”

  “Bros before flows remember?” We came up with that freshman year.

  “Well, it’s chicks before them all the way over here.”

  We busted up laughing, and it untwisted at least one of the knots in my stomach. “You’re the best, Tay.”

  “I know.”

  I snorted.

  “Just wish certain somebodies would remember that fact,” she said.

  “If certain somebodies don’t remember, then they weren’t worth your time in the first place, right?” I had no idea where the grandma-level wisdom was coming from, but I wanted to stand under that fountain and soak in it for a while. Why was it so much easier believing the truth for someone else than it was for myself?

  “Last call!” shouted a Bridgeport staffer from behind the buffet window.

  Taylor glanced at the clock. “Oh, shoot. You’d better go, woman! Come on!”

  Absolutely no bone in my body wanted to stand up and walk to Huckleberry Hall right now, but Taylor had been excited about my shot at a record deal since the day they announced it at youth group in January, and the spark firing through her eyes hadn’t made an appearance since before Ryan broke up with her. I owed her this one.

  “Hurry up.” She tugged my arm, shooting a quick look at Ryan’s table. “Kyle’s still stuffing his face. You’ll get to make the first impression.”

  Oh, the luck. All the luck.

  “I heard your demo of the song you’re planning to sing on Saturday.” Genevieve Dyer, the Sing-Off’s main judge and record agent extraordinaire, was sitting across from me at a fold-out table, staring at my application. The application I’d filled out back in January, when I thought I was turning the corner on my grief. Before Garrett proposed to Mom, and she said yes, without even asking how I felt about it. Before Nolan ditched out, without a word. Sound like a broken record?

  I felt like one.

  I folded my arms across my body and chewed my thumbnail. My nails would probably turn to nubs or whatever, but I seriously couldn’t make myself care.

  “You have raw talent. There’s this . . . just an authentic feel to your tone. Almost country, but almost rock. It’s really unique.”

  My Dolly Parton meets Joan Jett flare, as Dad used to call it. Pair it up with a reggae vibe and cowgirl boots, and apparently you got the attention of an actual, legit label.

  “I have to be honest. You’re on the younger side for us. You’re only . . . seventeen?” Genevieve squinted at her paper. “Is that right?”

  “Eighteen. My birthday was last week.” A fact I tried to get through Nolan’s head when he said Cory was too old for me. Not that I cared about Cory anymore. But still.

  “Okay. Yeah. I see that here. Congratulations on adulting. Think you’re really ready to go full-force into a professional singing career?”

  Ha. I’d been adulting since I was twelve, when we found out Dad was sick, when he and Mom started leaving us alone all the time. I nodded.

  “You don’t have college plans?”

  What was I supposed to say? If this would’ve been last year, I would’ve had all of my perfect little answers lined up, and I would’ve been able to actually smile at the lady, but . . . broken record and everything. “Um . . . not right now.”

  She nodded. “What about a boyfriend?”

  “Ha. No problem there.”

  “And family life’s good? ’Cause, you know, once you hit the road, you don’t usually come back for a couple months at minimum.”

  I swallowed, drawing a deep breath. Whatever happened, there was no way in the world I was going to say a word about Dad. Not after the whole sob-story accusation. “It’s okay.”

  Genevieve narrowed her gaze, tracing her bottom lip with her pencil eraser. “Just okay? Or not so great? I’m detecting a little bit of disappointment in your tone.”

  My chest constricted, and the air in the room heated up a thousand degrees. What was I doing, sitting in this room with a stranger, at a camp I used to love, letting her judge me based on facts that were completely out of my control? “It’s fine. I just . . . I don’t get what my family life has to do with any of this.”

  Her eyebrows shot up, and she wrote something on her little paper. “We just want to make sure that our artists are stable enough to handle life on the road, and to represent us well. This isn’t just about singing, Lea.” She finished her note and took another breath, eyeing me like I was a lump of coal, and if she stared hard enough, I’d turn into a diamond right in front of her face. “Look. I know this is a lot of pressure. There’s first-day jitters, and being interviewed like this can bring on some nerves. Why don’t we just pause for now, and we can meet back here tomorrow, after lunch? That’ll give you a chance to go do the camp thing for the day, and when you come back, we can delve into a few more details.”

  If Dad wasn’t already dead, this would’ve killed him. I could hear him in the back of my mind . . . Wisdom first, Lea. Emotions don’t make good choices.

  “Sound like a good idea?” Genevieve asked, twisting her pencil. “Meeting back here after lunch tomorrow?”

  I nodded, a hard lump forming in my throat. “See you then.”

  We parted ways, light raindrops hitting my face as I stepped outside and shoved my hands inside my hoodie pocket.

  “So?” Taylor came off the wall beside the front door all giddy, and totally hopeful, and I had no idea how to tell her I’d ruined my chances.

  “I . . . It didn’t go great.”

  “No? What happened?”

  I shook my head, staring at the pine needles blanketing the ground between our matching black Vans. “She started asking about my family.” I closed my eyes, fighting against the heat behind them. I’d cried enough about this already, and crying never changed things.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you tell her, though? I’m sure she got it, right?” She squeezed my arm.

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. She knew about the Kyle thing. He was right. Telling the judges would seem manipulative, and I’d never use Dad against anyone like that. If I was going to win, I wanted it to be by my own talent—not because someone felt bad for me.

  “Lea?”

  What was my problem?

  “I don’t want to say this, but I love you, so I’m saying it anyway . . .” Taylor continued.

  I opened my eyes and stared squarely into hers—the darkest brown, but somehow still piercing. “Something’s off with you. This
is your dream, girl. I mean, you’ve worked your whole life for this, and you’re not even serious about it. Why would you let Kyle get to you like this? You’ve never let him get to you before. You’re scaring me.”

  “Don’t, Tay. Not you, too.”

  “Well, it’s true. I mean, maybe I can help. Is it because of Cory? You can’t let a guy ruin this for y––”

  “I’m fine, okay?!” I clamped my jaw, defeat turning to anger, and morphing into something else. Something hot, and destructive, and I couldn’t stand there and pretend like I wasn’t imploding. “Just back off!”

  “Fine.” She frowned, held her hands up, and backed away three steps, the rain falling harder. “Backing.”

  A tear dotted my lashes, or maybe it was just the rain. “I have to get a grip, Tay. I just . . . need to go for a hike, or something.”

  “Okay. We can do a hike.”

  “No. Like, I need to be alone for a minute.”

  “No worries.” She bit her bottom lip, nodding. “Just . . . be careful in this rain.”

  “I will.”

  She held my gaze for a second, like she was about to say something else.

  “See you at lunch?” I asked, before she got the chance.

  She sighed. “Yeah.”

  Four

  CORY

  My two-way buzzed on my hip right in the middle of a monster bass chase. “Tucker to Cory, over.”

  This was it. I’d been pushing my luck for hours, but the rain had been coming down on us heavy for the past twenty minutes.

  I pulled the two-way from my pocket. “Copy. Cory to Tucker. Time to call it?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Roger that.” I was wondering when he’d make the call, with the ugly thunderhead on the horizon. This was some kind of freak storm to be landing in the middle of June.

  I rowed back to the dock with the two campers I’d had out with me, and I got everything put up for the day, wrapping it up for the night, too. With how dark those clouds were getting it wasn’t likely I’d be out again until tomorrow.

  Lightning flashed back at camp, and the lunch bell rang. I filled my plate and took my usual spot in the staff cafeteria area, the corner table—alone. A few of the guys invited me to eat at their table. They always did. I appreciated it, but I never understood the whole group-grazing mentality. Food was food, and we weren’t cattle. Halfway through my meal, I went to the soda fountain for a refill.

  Lea’s little friend, Taylor, moved beside me, filling her cup, too. “Hey, I know you’re not, like, keeping tabs on Lea or anything, but . . . have you seen her?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t miss the disappointment in her tone. She sighed, turning to scan the room. “She said she’d be back by lunch.”

  “Not at your cabin?” I turned to search with her.

  “She had her interview for the Sing-Off this morning, and she bombed it. She wasn’t herself after. I’m legit freaked out, Cory.”

  “Bombed it?” That didn’t sound right. Lea never bombed anything.

  “She said she was going for a hike, but she was supposed to meet me back at lun––”

  “A hike?”

  She nodded, twisted her fingers together, and gnawed her bottom lip. “I told her to be careful.”

  Another flash of lightning illuminated the skies outside, and a cold chill ran up my spine.

  “I didn’t know it would storm. I would’ve told her to stay.”

  “Where’s your youth leader?”

  Taylor pointed to a blond guy with glasses and a slouchy beanie, laughing and talking to one of the staffers.

  “Name?” I asked her as we headed toward him.

  “Pastor Braden.”

  “Braden!” I barked.

  He furrowed his brows, searching the massive cafeteria. I felt all eyes on me as I stood within six inches of his scraggly, bearded face. “Where’s Lea?”

  His eyes widened as his gaze shifted to Taylor. “She’s not with you?”

  Taylor shook her head. “She went for a hike after her interview.”

  “Alone?” he asked.

  Taylor nodded.

  A roll of thunder boomed, rattling the windows.

  “Oh, no.” Taylor shook her hands like they were dripping wet.

  Braden’s cheeks flushed, and he set his hands on his hips. “Oh, man. We have to . . . uh . . .” He swallowed, closing his eyes as he folded his arms across his chest. “We have to––”

  “Get your campers together,” I interjected.

  “Right.” He turned and started shouting orders to the tables around him, stirring up teen-level chaos equivalent to a bear sighting in the cafeteria.

  “How long has it been?” I asked Taylor.

  She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Her interview was at eight-thirty. I think she left at nine. Around nine.”

  I checked my watch—1:07 p.m. Four hours already.

  “Which path did she take?”

  Taylor shook her head, her face paling. “The one right next to Huckleberry.”

  I pulled my two-way from my pocket and held it to my mouth as I rushed outside. “Cory to all staff. Camper missing. Lea Miller with Grace Harbor. Youth leader notified. Gather all campers for a head count. I need ten staffers for a search crew ready and waiting at the main office in five minutes. Camper last seen at Grizzly Trailhead.”

  Twenty “roger thats” came through, and another flash of lighting lit the sky, triggering thoughts of a stranded Lea that I didn’t want to dwell on. She was bolder than anyone I’d ever met, but she was smart as a whip, too.

  Why would she risk a hike in this weather?

  Thunder pounded once more, quaking my bones again.

  Water rushed down the paved roadway like a narrow creek. I stood under the cafeteria awning, waiting for the next flash of lighting before I’d try to cross. Tucker approached in his truck, slowing to a stop right beside me. “Hop in.”

  It was only two hundred yards to the office, but a truck was safer. I joined him, and he pulled toward the office.

  “When’s the last time she was seen?” he asked, brown eyes roving the surroundings.

  “Nine.”

  “Four hours ago?”

  “They haven’t finished the head count.”

  “Maybe she’s still on-campus, then. She could’ve gone somewhere else, right?”

  It had happened before, but Lea and Taylor were usually glued at the hip. I grunted.

  Five other maintenance trucks were waiting in the office parking lot when we rolled in.

  “June to Cory.” Her voice traveled through our two-ways.

  “Ten-four. Go ahead.”

  “Head count complete. Camper still missing. Move on to campus search.”

  All the air left my lungs. “Roger that.” I gave instructions for each of the two-man crews, one to sweep the cabins and commons, one the rec field, one the ropes course, and one the lake path. I sprinted into the office, grabbed the emergency hiking pack, and bolted back to the truck.

  Tucker put the truck in gear. “Where to?”

  “Grizzly Trail.” Another flash of lightning popped. I got back on the two-way. “If you find her, get her to safety and hunker down until this storm passes.”

  “Roger that,” all the voices echoed.

  “Think she’s really on the trail?” Tucker asked, his voice wary as we pulled through camp.

  “Wouldn’t be like her.”

  “No?”

  I shook my head.

  He sighed, slowing next to Huckleberry Hall. He pulled ten minutes up the trail, but the rest was too rough for vehicles to pass.

  “Hunter to Cory. No camper found in the rec area.”

  “Same for the cabins and commons,” came another voice.

  We waited another ten minutes, but all I could think about was the fact that Lea was out on that trail somewhere, alone, and had been for the past four hours.

  Another thirty minutes passed, and I
was dying, just sitting there.

  “No campers on the lake trails,” came the next voice, making the Grizzly Trail the last plausible option.

  Another flash of lightning struck. “All crews to the Grizzly Trail, and notify the sheriff,” I said into my two-way, staring at the rocky terrain ahead.

  “We wait out the lightning first, though,” Tucker said.

  “I’m breaking procedure.” I hopped out of the truck, loaded the hiking pack onto my back, flipped the passenger seat forward, grabbed the emergency kit, and closed the door, hustling over to the shortest grove of trees.

  My two-way crackled again. “You can’t help her if you’re hurt, Cory.”

  I nodded, waiting for the next flash of lightning before I moved to the next grove of trees, and that was how this thing would go until I got to her. I didn’t care if it wasn’t standard.

  LEA

  My vision blurred in and out, something sharp stinging—no, burning—in my ankle. But that didn’t make sense, because the air was so cold, and my fingers were numb. I could hear my breaths, but I couldn’t feel them. It was like someone was sitting on my chest, and someone else was holding my head down. My eyelids slid shut again.

  A sharp crack sounded, like the snap of a whip. Echoing, and echoing, and echoing. Smaller and smaller. Something boomed, rattling the rocks around me, but if I listened hard enough, they sounded more like the clack of Mom’s hollow bamboo wind chimes. Or maybe that was the rain.

  I was so cold.

  I tried opening my eyes again, but thick pine limbs spun and whirred overhead, like they were in a washing machine.

  Nausea swirled in my stomach, but I focused on my breaths instead. In. Out. In. Out. Breathing was good. And the clacking. It sounded like a summer lullaby. I just needed warmth.