This is the summer , Belly thought, where every choice is a wound.
Belly set her cup down in the sand and walked toward the house. She found him leaning against the porch railing, facing the ocean. The screen door groaned behind her, but he didn’t turn. book 3 the summer i turned pretty
She stepped up to the railing, leaving a foot of space between them. The salt wind lifted her hair. She’d stopped straightening it this summer. She’d stopped a lot of things. This is the summer , Belly thought, where
Conrad finally touched her. Just her wrist. His thumb pressed against her pulse point, feeling it race. This is the summer