Page 25 of Summer’s Echo
“Talk to me,” I urged, brushing my thumb against her cheek, careful not to push her further than she was ready to go. “What do you need right now, Summer?” In that moment, nothing else mattered but her. If it took patience, time, I’d give her both.
“I shouldn’t have let it go this far, but…” She tensed, her voice fading into the uncertain space she always seemed to retreat to, the one that reminded me of when we were kids.
“But what, Summer? Talk to me, please.” I cradled her face gently in my hands.
I pressed soft, comforting kisses across her cheeks and forehead, hoping to soothe the angst radiating from her.
I’d seen this movie before— The Unsettling of Summer —and I knew how the story usually ended.
But this time, I wasn’t letting her go. Not without a fight.
Because for the first time in years, it felt like we were having a breakthrough, teetering on the brink of rediscovering something we’d lost long ago:us.
I wasn’t ready to let it slip through my fingers again.
I tightened my arms around her, silently daring her to pull away, to say my name and tell me to stop. But the words didn’t come.
“But what?” I repeated, my lips lingering against her ear, desperate for her to meet me halfway. I should’ve been the one pulling back. She was engaged—meant to marry someone else today, for God’s sake. But I couldn’t. Logic begged me to step away, to let her go, but my heart wouldn’t listen.
“I think I want this, but it’s not the right time,” she said finally, her voice barely audible, as if speaking any louder might break her completely.
“Just like last time,” I murmured.
Summer
Senior Year, 2004
Yesterday marked the last day of school before holiday break, and my parents and I were already packed and ready for our trip to Nashville.
We’d be spending the holidays with my brother and his family, staying through the New Year.
Normally, I’d be thrilled at the thought of weeks with my new niece and endless opportunities to bother my siblings, but this year, the excitement was dulled by one glaring fact: I wouldn’t get to see Echo.
Knowing it was my last day in town before vacation, I’d promised him we’d spend some time together, and I’d made good on that promise.
Echo whisked me away for a full day that included the mall, the arcade, and dinner.
Now, our last stop brought us to Maxell’s house—the unofficial hangout spot, thanks to his always out-of-town parents.
I’d only been here once before but agreed to come tonight since some of our old camp friends were supposed to be there.
The moment we stepped into the basement, I realized this wasn’t the low-key gathering I’d imagined.
The space was packed, bodies pressing against each other as music pounded from the speakers.
Laughter and shouts blended with the unmistakable clink of red plastic cups.
I glanced at Echo, my wide-eyed expression betraying my surprise.
“This wasn’t what I expected,” I said, leaning closer so he could hear me over the noise.
“We don’t have to stay long,” he said, his voice reassuring as he leaned in closer so that I could hear him.
“I’m good.”
Before we could move farther into the room, a familiar squeal pierced through the noise. “Summer!”
I turned just in time to see my friends, Trinity and Brooke, weaving their way through the crowd toward me. Their excitement was infectious as they pulled me into a group hug.
“Hey, boo!” they chimed in unison.
“Hey, hey!” I sang back.
Brooke’s eyes flicked toward Echo, standing a few steps behind me.
“Can we steal her for a minute?” she asked, already tugging me toward the far side of the room before Echo could even respond.
He gave me a small knowing nod before leaning back against the wall to survey the room.
Even in a crowded party, Echo was my anchor, and I felt lighter knowing he was nearby.
Maxell’s house was beautiful, and the basement was like its own private apartment, complete with plush couches, a mini kitchen, and even a built-in bar area.
Brooke and Trinity dragged me toward the bar, where red plastic cups were stacked next to a haphazard collection of bottles filled with clear and dark liquids.
“Are y’all drinking?” I asked, my tone teetering on motherly concern.
“Just a sip,” Brooke said. Her flushed cheeks told that it was likely much more than that.
“Here, I’ll make you something,” Trinity offered confidently, grabbing a cobalt-blue bottle and pouring a clear liquid into one of the cups. I watched her movements in disbelief.
“How do you even know how to do that?” I asked.
Trinity shrugged, a sly grin playing on her lips. “Trial and error,” she said as she reached for a bottle of pineapple juice and poured it in after the clear liquid.
“As long as it’s sweet, you’ll be fine,” Brooke assured me, nudging the cup closer.
I hesitated, staring at the cup like it might explode. The most alcohol I’d ever had was champagne and wine during New Year’s Eve toasts, and even then, just a few sips. “What is this, anyway?” I asked, taking a cautious sniff.
“Vodka,” Brooke replied nonchalantly.
I wrinkled my nose. “Well, if you want me to even try this, it needs way more juice,” I insisted, pushing the cup back toward Trinity.
They laughed as Trinity obliged, adding more pineapple juice before handing it back to me.
Folding under the pressure, I took a tentative sip.
To my surprise, it wasn’t bad, so I took another sip.
And then another. Before long, I was swaying along with Brooke and Trinity on the makeshift dance floor in the center of the basement.
I noticed Echo approaching. He slipped the cup out of my hand and brought it to his nose, his brow lifting in mock disapproval.
“You sure you can handle this?” he asked.
I nodded. “It’s not too bad,” I said as the room seemed to spin ever so slightly.
“Dance with me,” he said, taking a sip of my drink before setting it aside on a nearby table. He draped my arms across his shoulders, pulling me closer.
His six-foot frame towered over me as he guided us into a slow rhythm that matched the music’s beat.
The warmth of his hands on my waist sent a soothing steadiness through me.
Echo had a way of balancing his adventurous side with an unwavering instinct to protect.
Even now, he was ensuring I didn’t drink too much while still letting me enjoy the moment.
I tilted my head back to look at him, our movements synced effortlessly.
For a few minutes, it felt like we were the only ones in the crowded, noisy basement, swaying together under the dim glow of string lights.
We stayed at the party for about another hour before heading home.
As Echo pulled into my driveway, he parked the car but didn’t turn off the engine.
He leaned over, pressing the release on my seat belt so I could shift and get more comfortable.
It was still well before my curfew, but we always dragged out the night.
For us, the end of an evening wasn’t just a drop-off; it was a continuation of whatever conversation we’d left hanging.
“Thank you for another great night,” I said, tucking one leg under the other as I turned to face him. “Next time, dinner’s on me.”
“Next time is, what, like two weeks?” he replied, his tone unintentionally laced with annoyance.
I nodded with an exaggerated pout. “Yep. Something like that. You’ll survive. Plenty of basketball to play, and lots of girls to… play, too,” I teased, raising an eyebrow.
“Man…” he started, trailing off as he ran his hand along his freshly grown stubble. “I told you before, I’m not tripping off these girls.”
“Oh, really? Then who? A guy? Are you tripping off a guy, E?” I asked in mock shock, my voice dripping with mischief.
He playfully nudged the side of my head. “Man, fuck you, Sun.”
I nudged him back. “Okay, okay, so whoareyou tripping off of?”
He shook his head, his lips pressing into a tight line. “Nobody,” he said, though the faint tension in his voice told a different story.
“Mm-hmm.” My curiosity was piqued. Before I could press further, he shifted the conversation. “You sober yet?” he asked, his brow raised.
“I wasn’t drunk,” I shot back, but as I leaned my head against the window, I winced slightly. “But my head is starting to hurt.”
Without hesitation, he reached over, gently turning my face toward him. “Come here,” he said, pulling me closer. He gently placed his hands on either side of my head, his fingertips grazing my temples. His touch was warm, sending a wave of comfort through my throbbing skull.
“I’m never drinking again.” I groaned, leaning into his hands as he began to circle his thumbs across my temples, tracing down the sides of my nose with practiced ease.
“You will. Trinity and Brooke didn’t know what they were doing.
” He chuckled. “Tell me if this helps.” His voice dipped to something softer, something that lingered dangerously close to my ear.
A shiver ran down my spine, but it wasn’t from the December chill.
It was the way his voice wrapped around me, a sweet, subtle caress I couldn’t escape.
“It’s perfect,” I whispered as my body melted under his touch, and I let out a soft, unintentional sigh.
I didn’t miss the flicker of satisfaction across his face. Tilting my head back, his hands moved with a gentle yet purposeful rhythm, cradling my head like it was something fragile and precious. Our faces were barely an inch apart now, as we leaned over the middle console.
“Better?” he asked. I nodded, licking my lips.
My throat was suddenly dry, and I knew it wasn’t from the heat of the car. It was him—his proximity, his touch. My breath hitched as one of his fingers brushed across my bottom lip. What the hell, Summer?