Page 31 of The Beach House

And afterward, it was like the world felt a little brighter and a little warmer. I didn’t feel quite so sad about the fact that this year could be the last we were all here for summer at the beach house together.

Because yeah, things changed.

And yeah, we still had a lot of growing up to do.

But right then, everything I was worried about—from what would happen with me and Noah to the stuff deeper down, like college, like the future—just didn’t really matter anymore.

I’d have to deal with those things at some point, but not right now. Not while we still had the beach house.

“Where are we going?” Lee asked as I started tugging him wordlessly out of the bedroom.

I didn’t answer him.

“Shelly?” Lee asked again.

“Just wait,” I said, a grin spreading so wide over my face, I probably looked like I was doing an impression of the Cheshire cat. I kicked off my flip-flops and Lee followed my lead. He was in old sweatpants and a T-shirt, and I was in some thin shorts and a tank top.

“Ready?” I asked.

He’d caught on by now, and all of a sudden the two of us were clattering through the house hand in hand, bumping into each other and into walls until we were outside, heading straight for the pool. Lee was beaming almost as widely as I was, and his eyes were lit up like Christmas trees. We drew to a stop at the edge of the pool, Lee holding me back as I teetered at the edge.

“Ready.” He winked and grabbed my hand. I linked my fingers tightly through his.

“Three…two…”

Then, at the same time, laughing and smiling because we really didn’t have a care in the world, we both yelled at the top of our lungs, “Cannonball!” and with a huge splash, jumped in at the deep end.