Page 22 of Summer’s Echo

Echo

Summer and I left the park a little after nine.

I practically had to coax her into my car after she stubbornly insisted on driving herself home.

She’d calmed down some, but she was in no shape to make the nearly two-hour drive back to St. Louis.

As I double-checked that her car doors were locked, I made a mental note to text Maxell later and see if he could pick up her car tomorrow.

She sat quietly in the passenger seat, staring out the window.

Her expression was distant, her gaze unfocused, though traces of anguish still lingered in the tension in her jaw and the faint tremble of her hands.

Over the past couple of hours, I’d realized that her sadness wasn’t entirely about the demise of her relationship.

It wasn’t the what that troubled her—it was the how.

Summer was grappling with the gravity of what she’d done, not the reasons she’d done it.

The Summer I knew was a people pleaser and a meticulous planner.

I was certain that she had her life all mapped out—married by now, with a kid and another one on the way.

The imaginary biological clock probably fueled her need to please Deshawn and everyone else who saw them as the picture-perfect couple.

But the Summer I also knew was resolute once she made a decision, so when the dust finally settled, I was confident there’d be no regrets for her.

She leaned against the center console, her cheek resting in the palm of her hand.

Tenderly, I reached out and swiped a finger across her brow, hopefully brushing away the tension etched there.

My hand drifted to her nape, massaging softly, and the faint smile that graced her face told me that my actions were appreciated.

But I could still see tears glistening as silence settled between us.

I reached for her hand, rubbing my thumb over her palm in slow, soothing circles. “You hungry?” I asked, breaking the quiet.

She shrugged, indecisive about everything. “I could eat.”

“Yes or no, Summer. I’m sure you’re hungry,” I teased, nudging her out of her vagueness.

“Yes, Echo. I’m hungry,” she said.

“What do you want?” I asked, glancing at her to see her brows furrowed as if I’d asked the dumbest question. We locked eyes for a beat before blurting out simultaneously,

“Sonic!” We burst out laughing.

“Sonic always comes through,” I said, shaking my head.

“We ate so much damn Sonic back in the day, I should be tired of it. I had to stop eating those French toast sticks because my ass was spreading…wide.” She stretched her last word exaggeratedly.

Don’t say a word , Echo. Don’t say shit about her ass.

It wasn’t easy, especially since her ass was looking better than ever.

“Nah, Sun. You’re good,” I finally blurted.

“Remember when you came back from winter vacation? You were gone forever it seemed, and I was sick. I didn’t know what to do without my road dog.

” I pulled into the restaurant, parking in an available stall.

If my memory served me correctly, I already knew what she wanted to order. “Hey, sweetheart,” I greeted the car hop. “Let me get one do uble cheeseburger meal with fries, a six-piece chicken tenders with tater tots, two large blueberry slushies, and French toast sticks.”

“Extra ranch and barbecue sauce, please.” She leaned over me, giving instructions as if I was going to miss those important details.

Summer glanced at me, her lips quirking.

“Yeah, but I took care of you when I got back, remember?” she said, clutching my hand.

The soft, delicate touch was a balm to my weary soul.

For a moment, we weren’t in the aftermath of her broken engagement—we were just us.

Two friends reminiscing about a time when life felt simpler and happier.

As we waited for the food, my mind drifted to the past,pulled back by the quiet gravity of memory.

My first winter in St. Louis was like springtime compared to Chicago.

We were on break from school for the holidays, and Summer’s family was spending Christmas at her brother’s house in Nashville.

I’d been counting down the days until she came back because I’d been miserable.

Not only did I have a cold, but I was also missing her.

I thought maybe I was high from the cold medicine when I heard a voice eerily similar to hers.

But I wasn’t dreaming. It was like she appeared out of nowhere.

I remembered that nightso vividly, it felt like yesterday.

Her standing in the doorway, bags in hand, looking like she could sense that I needed her.

I heard her melodic voice before I saw her face.

She had been chatting with my sister, the easy rhythm of their conversation carrying through the house.

The sound of it alonemade my chest tighten .

I had missed her so much it hurt. And then, finally,she walked in.

She was balancing two bags and a drink carrier, herNike jogging pants hugging her curves just right—just enough to make it impossible to look away.

She smiled that shy, knowing smile, and our eyes met.

It was like she had never left . Without a word, she unpacked our food: double cheeseburger, fries , chicken tenders, tater tots, French toast sticks, and blueberry slushies .

All for us to share. Then, without needing to ask, she slid thebarbecue and ranch sauceacross the table because she just knew. She always knew.

She settled onto thefloor pillow beside me, nudging my shoulder, her voice low, soft, full of something unspoken. “Hey, E.”

I turned to her. “What’s up, Sunshine?”

The moment had beenso simple, so small, and yet, it was one of my favorites becauseit reminded me of everything I loved about her.

Becauseshe knew me better than anyone ever could.

And even though we’d been distant,she always would.

I blinked, not fully realizing that we’d received our food and were now pulling in the driveway of my parents’ house.

Summer’s jawtightened, her gazesweeping overthe familiar brick two-story house she’d once frequented with ease.Her angst was voiceless, but I could feel it anyway.This place heldboth joy and pain, memories tangled together in ways only she could fully understand.

“Are they home?”she asked, her voice measured, but the weight behind it unmistakable. She meant my parents.

I shook my head.“No. They’re in Chicago, and Sadie’s at a friend’s house.” We both stared at thetan garage door, the silence stretching between us. “You’re good here, Summer,”I said gently.“Get some rest. I’ll take you wherever you want to go first thing in the morning.”

She nodded but remained wordless.

Walking to the front door, I struggled to unlock it while carrying the food bag in the crook of my arm, while holding her hand.

This behavior was instinctual, just as natural as breathing for me.

My fingers found hers without thought, no conscious decisions or deliberate moves, just muscle memory.

Shit, my heart remembered, too. It didn’t matter that we hadn’t seen each other in years.

Since I’d stepped foot on that hill, there was no hesitation nor awkwardness between us.

I switched on the lights in the foyer, slowly moving farther into the house. Summer’s fingers slipped from my grasp, and I turned to see her still standing by the door. The space hadn’t changed in years, every detail frozen in time, and I knew what she was thinking: This was the scene of the crime.

“Sunshine,” I called. With a tilt of my head, I motioned for her to follow me into the kitchen. She trailed, leaning against the counter as she sipped her slush.

I busied myself unbagging the food, then arranging it on a tray.

When everything was ready, we climbed the stairs to my childhood bedroom.

I loosened my tie, tossing it carelessly across the room, and unbuttoned the top button of my shirt.

Summer perched on the bed, planting one knee before sitting crisscrossed.

She leaned forward to slide the tray closer, her movements hurried because she had to be starving.

With Sonic spread out between us and her sitting in that familiar position, it was like no time had passed at all.

And damn, it felt good. I powered on the TV, but somehow, I was certain it would be watching us instead.

“How’s California treating you?” she asked, dipping a chicken tender into the barbecue-and-ranch mixture we’d concocted as kids.

“Good. Good,” I said, my mind briefly drifting to how much LA had become home.

“I like the balance. It’s fast-paced but somehow steady.

The opportunities are endless…so much damn money to be made.

” I paused, mimicking her as I dipped my tender.

“You’d kill it there with your design and marketing skills. ”

She sighed, momentarily drifting off to somewhere far away. “I can’t even imagine leaving St. Louis. I stayed in Atlanta after college because I’d found my tribe, but California?” Her voice trailed off, a hint of hesitation threading through her words. “That would be a huge change.”

I chose my next words carefully. “Your world has already changed, Summer. When the church altar stayed empty today, everything changed.” My voice softened. “You made a big decision.” I brushed my thumb lightly along her forearm. “I’m proud of you.”

The words hung in the air, raw and honest, surprising both of us.

She was caught off guard by the admission, but I meant every word.

What she did today was nothing but faith and hella brave.

Yeah, her future might be uncertain, but it was completely hers to define, free from doubt or hesitation.

“Maybe,” I started, “maybe the universe is hinting at other shifts in your future.”