[COMPLETE]
When Hanna Haddad embarks on what's supposed to be another uneventful summer as a lifeguard on Cape Cod, a trip to the past comes as an unnerving surprise. The discovery of her estranged mother's journal opens up the world of tragedy and...
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It felt weird to be at work once again, for more than one reason.
The end of July unofficially brought the soupiest weeks of the year, attracting hordes of people seeking relief from the heat and almost doubling our workload. By the end of my shift, I was already missing my week off, even if meant compulsively vomiting every hour.
Jesse and I hadn't had much time to talk the whole day, too busy playing parent for swarms of wild children, but there was no escaping conversation when we were packing up to head home.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
I stopped in my tracks on the soft sand, feeling my heart skip a beat. "Tell you what?" Surely, he doesn't know about happened between me and his—
"About Stella and the baby," he breathed. "God, I feel so bad for her."
"I wasn't sure if Stella wanted anyone to know—wait, did you talk to her?" It'd been a few days since I'd seen her myself.
He shook his head. "No, Alex. The alcohol came out after I brought you home, and so did his honesty. He seemed pretty fucked up, I won't lie."
"I mean, wouldn't you be, too?"
"Oh, trust me, I know," he murmured, pitch falling with his eyes. "The guy even cried into my shoulder for a solid minute. Pretty sure it was the closest we've gotten to a hug since we first met ten years ago."
We continued walking towards the main parking lot, until I remembered I'd parked my car a hike away again. Unlike last time, it wasn't a rainy early summer evening, but a swelteringly sunny ninety degrees—arguably even worse.
"Need a ride again?" Jesse asked, already sensing why I was standing still in defeat.
I smiled and nodded, finding it impossible to say no to a spin in that luxurious hunk of metal. He turned on the car after we slid into our seats and cranked up the AC, cooling our overheated bodies. I watched him as he messed with his thick hair under his cap, admiring the way his biceps flexed as he did so. He noticed me staring, as always, and raked his eyes down my face and my body.
"You know my family really liked having you around?" he remarked, reaching out a few fingers to caress my cheek. He swept them down the sun-kissed length and then held my chin in his hands. "Grandma Jean still hasn't stopped singing your praises."
I blushed, hating how I couldn't bashfully look away with my face in his hold. "You have an iconic grandma, for one. She makes me wanna buy a yellow pantsuit now." He threw his head back and laughed, allowing me to slip away for a moment, only to fall into his allure again and lean over the center console. "You're also weirdly a clone of your father."
"Really?" he asked, shoulders falling. "You're the first person to ever tell me that."
What other things hadn't he been told? For a moment, I considered testing one of them, my hand itching to pull out my phone and show him an old picture of my parents, to wait for his brow to furrow, lips to part, and for him to utter that he, too, knew exactly who I was.
