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

  But how?

  “Thanks,” she whispered, blowing a shaky breath as she studied my face. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

  I ticked my finger against my knee, traced the seam of my cargo pants, wanting to say so much more than I was allowed to. “Welcome.”

  “Why’d you come after me, Cory?”

  I frowned.

  “You said I was wrong for going alone. Why bother coming after me at all? Someone else would’ve come, right?”

  Something in her posture shifted, her chin lifting a degree higher than before.

  I was wrong to chastise her earlier, but I’d been feeling way too much for her, seeing her so helpless, holding her in my arms, smelling the familiar scent of her apple shampoo. I’d wanted to swoop her up and hold her the whole night through. Forget what Tucker thought. But Nolan’s warning kept cycling through my mind, and Dad’s threat. Plus, I needed this job, and staffers and campers couldn’t cross that line. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  She huffed a breath. “Why’d you really cut out on me last year? Nolan said he thought you were interested in someone up here. Couldn’t you just have told me? I get it if you just want to be friends.”

  I grunted. I should just let her believe it, right? It’d be best for both of us. She’d be forced to move on, and I could keep trying to forget our spark. But she was halfway to death a few hours ago, if not closer, and for some reason, she was the only one I could ever really talk to. “My mom left.”

  “What?”

  I shrugged. “She’d had enough with my dad. My uncle had a friend with a job for her and a place to rent out in Tennessee. She’s gone.”

  The shock on Lea’s face didn’t surprise me. As far as she knew last summer, my family was going through a hard time. She had no idea the extent of the pain we’d been living with, Mom and I.

  “Did they get a divorce?”

  “She filed in May.” I sighed and swept at the wood-plank floorboards beneath me.

  “I’m so sorry––”

  “Don’t be.” It came out stronger than I’d intended, but Mom getting away was the best thing that had happened in the past few years. “There’s a lot you don’t know about it.”

  “Tell me.”

  I shook my head.

  She reached out to squeeze my hand, and my lungs quit working. “You can tell me anything.”

  I shouldn’t. Not for any reason. Her fingers twined with mine, and she squeezed again. “What happened?” she asked.

  I closed my eyes. “My dad.”

  She took a sharp breath, nodding. “I’ve heard things.”

  That shouldn’t surprise me.

  “Really bad things.”

  I traced her knuckles and the valleys between, nodding.

  “It’s not all true, is it?”

  “Depends what you’ve heard.”

  “That he has a drinking problem.”

  I nodded.

  “That he scams his staff on your ranch.”

  I nodded.

  She sighed. “That he rages when he’s drunk. And I heard people talking in high school. About the time you showed up late to baseball practice . . . with a black eye.” Her voice was shaking and raspy.

  I dropped my head a little lower. I didn’t want to see the look on her face. She’d said the part I’d been trying to hide from her, and I hated that she knew.

  “I don’t want to repeat how they said you got it.”

  “Then don’t.” I clamped my jaw and tried to make myself let go of her hand, but our fingers were in a gridlock, and she was rubbing my arm in a way that felt like things would be all right.

  “Tell me they were wrong.”

  “I’m not a liar.”

  “Cory. . .”

  I kept staring at our hands, telling myself to find a way out of this. And away from her. “Do you get it now? Why I couldn’t . . . Why we can’t?” I dared a glance at her, but that was probably more stupid than holding her hand. That chin was jutting farther, and her brows were sinking lower, and the determination she’d always had was working its way through my defenses.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You were seventeen. Just lost your dad. You didn’t need to know—”

  “I’m eighteen now.” She shook her head, like I was out-of-bounds for trying to protect her. “Was that the first time he hurt you?”

  A long sigh escaped my lips, and I felt every muscle in my body tensing up. “You don’t need the details.”

  “What if I want them?”

  I drew a deep breath and bent toward her, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Focus on getting better. No time to worry about me.”

  “Too late.”

  LEA

  How was it possible Cory’s dad was so abusive and Nol and I never knew? Gah! I didn’t want to think about it. “You know what I think will make me feel better?” I couldn’t even think what would make me feel better, but turning the convo my way would make him feel better.

  “Sleep,” he said.

  “Sit by me?”

  He glanced Tucker’s way. “Not a good idea––”

  “Just until I can drift off again? Please? I feel so . . . weird.”

  He sighed, scratched his cheek, and then he came closer and sat beside me, lifting his arm in an invitation. “Just for a minute.”

  I snuggled in close, resting my head against Cory’s chest, breathing in the scent of the woods and spicy soap, the scent I fell so hard for last summer. His heartbeat thumped beneath my ear, and he ran his fingertips in patterns around my shoulder, and my eyelids drooped.

  “I’m sorry, Lea,” he whispered, his chin resting on my crown. “I care about you. Honestly. And you deserved an answer before, but things have been too broken.”

  “I care about you, too,” I whispered back, my heart swelling at his confession. “But I get it now . . . Just don’t disappear again.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Not good enough.”

  He chuckled. “You’re so stubborn.”

  “Everyone has their vices.”

  “Sleep,” he whispered, his breaths pulsing softly against my hair. I snuggled in closer, my whole body relaxing as his arms closed in around me, my heart surging at the idea of staying like this for as long as humanly possible.

  A throat cleared, and someone grunted. “Guys!”

  I peeled my eyes open as Cory rolled away from me, taking a massive wave of warmth with him.

  “What’s going on?” Tucker was standing at the bottom of my feet with a major scowl.

  “I needed medicine, and then . . .” I squinted, trying to remember how I’d ended up falling asleep in Cory’s arms. “I asked him to sit beside me because I was cold.”

  Tucker sighed, turning to Cory. “This is crossing a major line, bro.”

  “Yeah.” Cory was standing, staring at the ground, pensive.

  “Maybe we should step outside.”

  My heart raced. Worse than the time I’d snuck a whoopie cushion under Mrs. Halpert’s desk in the fifth grade, when she’d caught me, and called me out in front of the whole class.

  Cory nodded, rubbing the back of his neck as he followed Tucker toward the front of the cabin.

  “It’s okay.” I drew a sharp breath and tried to stand to stop them, but something like an electric shock shot up my leg, and I collapsed.

  Cory rushed to my side, gripping me around my waist to keep me from falling.

  “You don’t need to talk to him,” I told Cory through my wince. “I’m eighteen,” I said to Tucker.” I turned back to Cory. “He was in the room. It was an accident.”

  Cory didn’t answer.

  “I was stupid and asked him to sit with me,” I told Tucker. “It was my fault. I got too comfortable.”

  Tucker glanced from Cory to me and back again, a hard frown still set on his face. “Way too comfortable.”

  “I know.” I sighed, pulling my hair behind my shoulders. “It
’s just . . . Cory was there for me last year, when Dad . . . passed.” Heat welled behind my eyes again. “We haven’t had a chance to talk in a long time, and I––”

  “Stop.” Cory stared at me—hard—with a subtle head shake. “You’re a camper. I was out of bounds. End of story.”

  “Please, Tucker.” I didn’t want to beg, but I wasn’t beyond it, either. Tucker and Nolan went way back, and for as much time as Cory had spent at our house during their high school days, Tucker had been there, too. Just as much. Maybe more. I had to have some kind of friend’s sister credit with him. “Yesterday was one of the craziest days of my life. I didn’t mean to get him in trouble. Please.”

  Tucker huffed an irritated breath and gave Cory one last death stare. “I’ll talk to you outside.”

  Please don’t punish him, God . . . If You’re still listening.

  I hadn’t been praying much this past year. It felt too much like speaking empty wishes into an emptier void, my own voice the only thing echoing back—on repeat.

  It didn’t used to be this way. I used to be able to pray from the bottom of my heart, for as long as it took to hear back from God. He never spoke to me in a loud, booming voice, just a quiet whisper, but my soul always understood Him when He did. In that still, small voice Dad used to talk about. I’d hardly heard it since he’d passed. I’d barely tried to. It all felt too hollow. But I wanted Him to hear me now, if He was listening . . .

  He’s obviously hurting, God. He doesn’t need to risk his job for me. Please.

  The longer they were out there, the more my gut twisted. I strained to hear, but that was pointless. This was Cory we were talking about. The king of silence. And maybe Tucker had the capacity to get vocal, but I’d never seen it.

  Please.

  The cabin door creaked, and they came back in, Cory moving straight to the wood stove. He separated the coals inside and doused it with water, triggering a sizzle, and a coil of smoke that matched my mood.

  Tucker came my way, a weird expression on his face. “Looks like you’re feeling better, and the sun’s out. Gotta get you back to camp. The nurse needs to look at that ankle, and June said something about a competition interview you need to get to, if you can.”

  I watched Cory’s back as he started loading stuff into his hiking pack.

  “What about Cory?”

  “Not your concern,” Cory shot over his shoulder.

  Tucker drew a deep breath, slid his hands inside his pockets, and turned back to me. “I told him if you guys keep your distance, I’ll keep it under wraps.”

  “What?” I threw the sleeping bag back and tried pushing myself up again, but there was no way I was getting up without help.

  Tucker sighed, glancing at Cory. “Look. I get that you guys are close, but you’re up here as a camper. All kinds of liability flags are popping up in my mind.”

  “Liability? Cory just saved my life! What the heck does liability have to do with anything?”

  “If anyone else saw you guys the way I just saw you, Cory would be reported and canned. No questions asked.”

  “No, he wouldn’t––”

  “He’s right, Lea.” Cory’s gruff voice cut me off, and I wanted to argue with him, but he was back to his terse stare, and I’d barely just reconnected with him. I couldn’t handle losing him again. “You have other priorities,” he added.

  Other priorities?

  He went back to working on the fire. Tucker blew a breath and scanned the cabin. “I gotta pack up.”

  I couldn’t peel my eyes off the back of Cory’s head.

  Other priorities . . .

  You know what? Yesterday’s interview was worst case scenario, but maybe he was right. I was supposed to have a second interview today. If Genevieve could give me another chance, maybe it would go better than yesterday, and if it went well enough, there was a huge chance I’d be moving to LA in a couple months.

  Cory was right. I did have other priorities. And as much as I wanted him to be at the top of my list, that obviously wasn’t an option right now. For either of us. This competition meant a new shot at a dream I’d always wanted, and I couldn’t let anything stop me. Whatever happened, I had to get my head on straight.

  “I heard you had an eventful evening last night?” Genevieve studied me across the picnic table outside of the camp’s cafe and sat back, arms crossed, dark hair tied back in a slick ponytail, green eyes scouring my face. “You left in a bit of a hurry yesterday.”

  I was toast.

  “I’m sorry. You just asked some questions that hit a weird chord for me.”

  “Like?” She lifted a brow.

  I blew a shaky breath, adjusting the strap on the walking boot the camp nurse gave me for my awesomely sprained ankle. “You asked about home, and I didn’t want to say anything, but . . . my dad passed away last year.” An annoying lump was back in my throat, but I swallowed past it, Kyle’s whole sob-story accusation coming back to mind.

  “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

  I stared at the table ledge and sniffed.

  Come on. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. “It’s okay.” I forced it out, but it totally wasn’t okay. Hence, the whole freak out yesterday. “I just want you to know that I want this.” I stared her in the eyes. “Like, there’s this huge part of me that can’t function when I’m not singing, and I know it’s the reason I was born. It’s just hard figuring it out without my dad. He was always the one to lead me, you know?”

  She sighed, gnawing the inside of her cheek. “I have to be honest with you here. When you rushed out yesterday, I crossed your name off my list, because as much of a chance as this is for you to realize your dream, it’s a two-way street. This is an opportunity we’ve created for someone who’s serious, someone who wants to make a career out of this. Someone we can feel good about promoting, and maybe that’s you. But fans can be really critical. They won’t put up with you ditching out mid-concert, or bowing out of a tour, or breaking down in the middle of a song. Just . . . They’re there to be reached. As much as I’d like to say they’d understand, so much of the time, they won’t. It’s terrible, but it’s a fact of the industry, and if one interview question pushed you over the edge pre-career . . .” She shrugged, shaking her head. “You’ll tank really fast––”

  “I won’t,” I interjected, squaring my shoulders and jutting my chin. “I promise. Now that it’s out . . . I . . . It won’t happen again.”

  She studied me, brows furrowed, and twisted her pen cap. It felt like a million eons passed before she leaned forward with a sigh. “Tell you what, if you think you’re really up for it, I’d like to give you another shot.”

  “Oh my gosh. Really?”

  “Yes. But you should know that I don’t give everybody a second chance, okay? I’m counting on you to be all-in here.”

  A wave of relief washed through my system, and buzzed in my fingertips. “I’m as in as I can be. Promise.”

  Genevieve reached her hand across the table, and I shook it. “I’m putting you down for seven-thirty tonight for band introductions and to figure out your song arrangement.” She wrote something on her paper, and it took everything I had to keep my butt in that chair when all I wanted to do was run out and tell Tay! “Don’t let me down, okay?” She looked up from her paper and smiled. “I’m looking forward to hearing you Saturday night.”

  Seven

  CORY

  A full day out on the lake would’ve been my first-choice pick for any other day. Not today, though. Not with everything that happened last night. Not without knowing how Lea was, or what she was thinking about me. I shouldn’t care. I cared more than anything. If that wasn’t enough, the two senior high boys I was out on the lake with wouldn’t stop talking about her.

  “Heard she broke it,” the dark-haired one said, as we rowed from our last fishing spot to the next.

  “Nope. Just a bad sprain,” the taller, blond one said.

  “Is she out of the competition?
”

  “Don’t know. Probably not with how hard she’s fought for it this far.”

  I grunted and finessed the bow of the boat parallel to the shoreline, where a sequoia’s roots plunged deep beneath the surface. Its pine covered limbs stretched out across the surface, casting a pattern of shadows beneath, a surefire place for bass to nest. “Good spot here, boys.”

  They picked up their poles and cast their lines.

  “Hey, who are you asking to the reveal dinner?” Blondie asked.

  The dark-haired one went quiet. “Not going.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re still stuck on Taylor.”

  “We were together two years, Kyle. Kind of hard not thinking about her.”

  “Eh. You just need a fresh face to help you forget her.” Blondie reeled his line in and flicked it out again. “You’ll never guess who I’m asking after my rehearsal.”

  “Not sure I want to.”

  Blondie cackled, reeling his line in again.

  There was no way he’d be catching any fish with his technique, not to mention his yammering. Dang, I needed this work day to end. All this Lea talk was killing me, and the second I was done for the day, I’d find a way to figure out how she was doing.

  “I’m asking Lea, bro.”

  All the air in my lungs turned to lead.

  “What?” Dark Hair reeled his line in, looking way worse than annoyed. “Why would you do that?”

  “I don’t know. There’s just something about her, man. Ever since Ella broke things off, she’s kind of all I can think about.”

  Every muscle in my body tightened.

  “Sounds like a rebound attempt. Shouldn’t you take some time off girls for a while?”

  “You sound like my grandma. Lea’s hot. I’m not passing that up. Especially not with how wounded she is. She’ll be too weak to refuse me when I come sweeping in on her this time.”