I unlock the door, pull it open, and face the two uniformed men, who have unmistakable sorrow in their eyes.
“Hello, Miss. We’re looking for Katrina Summer, daughter of Grace Summer. Is that you?”
I nod slowly, as if that simple act will delay the inevitable. I look down at my wrist where my mom’s bracelet now rests, and somehow, I already know what they’re about to tell me.
I’ll never forget that hollow, rhythmic pounding on the door or the expressions on the officers’ faces as they delivered the news.
“We regret to inform you that your mother was in an unfortunate accident.”
I insisted that they’d made a mistake, that they had the wrong apartment. My mother was still at work. Then they described her blue vintage bicycle, including the tattered brown seat and large woven basket. That was all it took for my entire world to turn black.
I’ve existed in a numb state for the past few days. It’s like I’m living outside my body, hovering and watching the aftermath of my mother’s death unfold like one big horrible nightmare. I wish it was only a nightmare. I’m no stranger to those. But I know I’ll never be able to shake this dark reality, not even if they do find the person responsible for ending my mother’s life. Justice isn’t enough to replace what I lost.
If I hadn’t gotten into trouble at school, she would never have had to go back to work in the first place. And then maybe she wouldn’t have taken off the bracelet that, in her mind, protected her all these years. If it weren’t for me, she would still be here. I can’t turn back the clock, and that fact alone creates an all-consuming guilt that I’ll live with forever.
“We’re almost there, Katrina. Just a few more minutes.”
The blond woman driving introduced herself to me at the police station as my grandmother’s caretaker, Charlotte. She seems nice enough, but the fact that everyone expected for me to get up and leave with her as if we were old friends was the most unnerving experience. From there, she made sure the police had the information they needed from me, helped me gather my things, and arranged for a moving company to take the rest of our belongings and apartment furnishings to a storage facility. Now, we’re on our way to my grandmother’s home in Florida.
I tug at the chain wrapped around my wrist. My skin is rubbed raw beneath it. The damn piece of jewelry feels like more of a handcuff than a present from my mother. The stubborn latch refuses to open, and no matter what I try to snap the chain, it won’t come off. With a frustrated sigh, I release the bracelet and pinch my lids closed.
The drive from Silver Lake to Apollo Beach is over nine hours, but it feels as if we’ve been moving through quicksand, the earth is swallowing me whole as the world I once knew slowly disappears from view. A chill sweeps over me as I take in the unfamiliar setting. There is an immediate sense of distinction and exclusivity in the coastal city just south of Tampa.
We turn onto a main drive and slow as we pass dozens of residential inlets. Squinting, I struggle to make out smokestacks in the near distance, their white plumes evaporating into the darkening sky. It’s such a strange sight compared to the spacious and immaculate appearance of the rest of the town. Every building we drive by looks brand-new, and every car we pass appears to sparkle like it just came from the wash. Even in the fading sunlight, I can see that the landscape is perfectly fitting for a home-and-garden magazine.
“Once you settle in, I think you’ll love it here.” Charlotte tosses me a small, tentative smile. “We live in a small town, but I assure you, it’s a lively one. You’ll make friends in no time and…”
My gaze catches on the T in the road ahead as I tune Charlotte out. She’s been nothing but nice to me since the moment I met her, but I’m in no mood for awkward small talk. Instead, I focus on a guy jogging on the sidewalk in front of us. Even from here, I can see that he’s muscular and fit, like a pro-wrestler ready for the fight of his life. He’s wearing a black cap that shades his eyes, a black tank top that grips his muscles in all the right places, and a pair of black shorts that hang down to his knees.
I’m transfixed by his perfect technique—steady and effortless. It’s a strange thing to notice, but I love the sport of running. It has been the only form of a healthy release that has worked for me over the past two years. Even though I made a daily habit of putting in the miles, I was never good enough to make Silver Lake High’s team. But this guy…
I’m caught up in his rhythm, finding his pacing almost soothing to my soul, when he grips the bottom of his top and yanks it over his head, revealing a sheen of sweat on deliciously taut muscles. My heart jumps into my throat. They don’t make boys like him in Silver Lake—I know that much.
We’re approaching the T in the road just as he starts to jog across our path. He’s close enough that I can maybe see his eyes beneath the shade of his cap, so I try. I don’t know why my curiosity about this guy is at an all-time high, but I can’t stop wishing he would just look up. Just once, so I can see him.
Charlotte turns left so the guy is directly to my right. Look up, my thoughts command as if he can hear me.
He slows, his chin tips up, and his shaded gaze finds mine. A current of energy zaps me and runs through my veins like I’ve been lit from within. He stops in his tracks, his bare chest heaving and revealing his exertion, and he turns his head to hold my stare.
For a split second, I imagine he feels it, too—a connection, a spark, something—but his gaze darkens into a full-blown glare, filling me with pure and utter mortification. He might as well have dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. The aftershock is worse than the initial sting.
My embarrassment is slowly seeping through my clothes and my pores until it shocks me to the bone, jolting me right back to the present.
I gasp and look forward before blinking hard and sliding down farther into my seat. What the hell was that?
“Katrina, are you okay?”
I turn to face Charlotte, knowing that the rapid rise and fall of my chest is a dead giveaway to my nerves. At least she doesn’t know what caused my reaction. That would be humiliating. I just got caught ogling some grumpy-looking dude who was out for an innocent run. “Yeah. I-I’m fine.” I shake my head and bite down on my bottom lip, knowing my words are a lie. I’m not fine at all. “You said we’re almost there?”
Her smile reaches her eyes, calming me some, then she looks forward and nods, gesturing to something. I look out the front windshield to find a large wrought-iron gate with a gold S ornament at its center and a security booth between two lanes of traffic. Charlotte stops to activate the gate. A sign just in front of the guard booth that reads Summer Estates.
I furrow my brows at the irony. “Summer Estates? As in Rose Summer, my grandmother, or is that a coincidence?”
Charlotte’s brightening smile answers my question before she speaks. “It’s no coincidence, Katrina. Your grandparents funded the development of this neighborhood nearly forty years ago.” She does a double take, her smile slipping some. “How much has your mom told you about Apollo Beach and your grandmother?”
I wonder if my expression is as blank as my knowledge. “Nothing, really. Just that Rose lives here and that things were complicated between the two of them.”