Not Our Summer by Casie Bazay (best ebook reader for ubuntu .TXT) 📕

make up her mind. She finally opts for the Philly cheesesteak sandwich. The waitress takes our menus, leaving us with nothing to look at but each other again.

Sam shifts in his seat, still appearing uncomfortable. His phone buzzes, but he ignores it. “So Becka told me you girls did some traveling this summer?”

K. J. nods but doesn’t offer any information.

He takes a sip of his iced tea and smiles again, revealing the dimple on his left cheek. The one he passed on to me. I suddenly find myself wondering if K. J. has it, too. “I’d like to hear all about it,” Sam says. “Where’d you go first?”

“The Grand Canyon,” K. J. answers. “We rode mules down to the bottom.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “Wow, that musta been something.”

“I loved it,” she says as she nudges me with her elbow, “but Becka about peed her pants she was so scared.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”

K. J. laughs. “Don’t lie. You know you were terrified.”

I give a small shrug. “Okay, maybe a little.” Then I can’t help but smile. “It was soooo pretty, though. I’d do it again, but definitely not on a mule.”

K. J.’s eyes light up with excitement. “Yeah, we could hike it. I’d have to get in better shape, but I think I might be able to do it. And we could stay at Phantom Ranch again.”

“Maybe after we graduate from college,” I suggest. “It could be a reunion trip.”

She nods her head. “If we’re doing a reunion trip, I wanna go back to the Keys, too. That place was so awesome.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “We need a do-over at the Keys, but maybe we can fly instead of drive next time.”

“That was a long-ass trip.” K. J.’s hand flies to her mouth, and she quickly looks at Sam. It’s like we’d both forgotten he was here for a moment.

He laughs. “I’ll bet. Sounds like you two really got to know each other this summer. And it sounds like it was a great experience.”

K. J. and I turn to look at one another, and she smiles again. Sure enough, the dimple is there, though not nearly as pronounced as mine or Sam’s. Still, the fact that it’s there makes me so unexplainably happy.

“It’s been pretty incredible,” I say. In more ways than one.

Sam’s face grows more serious as he studies K. J. for several seconds. She notices and squirms uncomfortably in her seat.

“I just want to say I’m sorry,” he says. His eyes shift to me. “To both of you, really, but especially to you, K. J. I’ve really let you down. I wish I would have spoken up, but your mom… well, I just didn’t know what to do.” His gaze drops to the table. “I’m sorry.”

Several responses come to my mind, but I can’t seem to choose which one is most appropriate. It seems everyone is apologizing today, but this is one I didn’t see coming.

“You should be sorry,” K. J. says, surprising Sam and me both.

His head snaps up. His brow furrows and then falls, and he looks sadder than I’ve ever seen him. It’s almost enough to make me feel sorry for him. Almost. K. J. straightens in her seat and levels him with a hard gaze.

“You and my mom both have a lot to be sorry about, but I’ve decided to be the bigger person in all this. I’m an adult now, too, after all. So I’m going to do the adult thing and forgive you. I forgive both of you.” It’s like she’s just waved an invisible magic wand because a weight seems to lift from her entire frame as she says this. She draws in a shuddering breath, the only hint telling me that what she just did, no matter how it looked or sounded, wasn’t easy for her.

Sam’s face softens. “Thank—”

“I’m not doing it for your sake,” K. J. cuts in, her snarky tone returning in full force.

Sam nods. “I understand.” He seems to consider his next words before speaking. “I can’t make up for what I’ve done… or haven’t done. I know that, but I’d like to be at least a small part of your life now. If you’ll let me.”

K. J. scrutinizes his face, maybe trying to get a read on his sincerity. “We’ll see.”

I bite my lip to keep a straight face. “Maybe you can have us over around Thanksgiving,” I say before K. J. and I exchange a momentary look of unspoken solidarity.

She shrugs and looks back at Sam. “Yeah, maybe so.”

“I’d love to,” he says. “That would be great.”

The waitress reappears with a large tray, which she manages to balance on one hand while placing each of our plates in front of us with the other. My chicken tenders smell incredible, and despite everything, my stomach rumbles again. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks.

K. J. and I both shake our heads. I’m already snatching up a chicken finger.

Sam gives the waitress a thumbs-up. “I think we’re all good.”

We start eating, setting the former conversation aside. For now, at least. Over the past few months, K. J. and I became masters at sitting together in silence. So what if our dad happens to be here this time? As the clinking of silverware and murmur of other people’s quiet conversations carry across the restaurant, Sam’s words to the waitress play on repeat in my head.

He’ll never be a bigger part of my life than he has been for the past eighteen years, and I think I’ve accepted that. There’s no way he’s going to suddenly become K. J.’s favorite person either, but that doesn’t matter. K. J. and I don’t need Sam. We have each other now and a whole lifetime ahead of us. We won’t make the same mistakes our mothers did, I’m sure of it.

I’m also getting a second chance to be a sister myself, and that’s something I’ll never take for granted again. I take another sip of my Coke, stealing a glance at