Rule #11: You Can't Ignore Your Family's Feud

“Summer is made for relaxing, Bella,” my best friend, Gigi, said as she stretched out on the lawn chair she’d dragged into the middle of my backyard. She had on this skimpy yellow bikini that barely covered…anything and sunglasses perched on her nose. 

She’d gone all old-school and folded tinfoil over an old cardboard box to use as a reflector. 

I snorted as I uncrossed my legs and stretched them out in front of me. It was a hot August afternoon in Sweet Mountain, North Carolina, and I was trying as hard as I could to focus on my homework in front of me. 

I only had one week until school started. Which meant one week until my senior year started. If I wanted any chance of qualifying for the scholarship I needed to get into Harvard, I needed a 4.0 GPA. 

And I needed to go to Harvard. I needed out of this small town and away from my family, which was falling apart. Dad was gone, and Mom was currently passed out on the couch. I didn’t have to ask to know she’d spent the night drinking. Our living room smelled like a distillery. 

That may have been one of the reasons we were lounging outside in ninety-degree weather. 

I hated being in my house. Always.

“I don’t have time for fun,” I said as I shot her an exasperated look. With my life, I couldn’t even remember what fun was.

Gigi snapped her gum as she shifted in her seat. “You only live once, Bella. Make it good.”

I sighed. If only I had her zeal for life. She didn’t care about consequences. She was a live-for-now kind of person. We were complete opposites. She was beautiful and graceful. I was a nerdy perfectionist. I cared about grades and extracurriculars, and she cared about makeup and tans. 

She fanned herself with the cardboard box and blew out her breath. I didn’t think I’d ever understand her desire to develop skin cancer. It made no sense. When I brought it up, she told me I’d never understand beauty. And she was right about that. I was simple. Nothing too spectacular about me. My hair was long. My cheekbones—regular. I lacked anything that made anyone, anything. 

Except soccer. I rocked at soccer. And maybe my grades. I was smart, so what else did I need?

I tucked my dark brown hair behind my ear and hunched over the calculus book in front of me. The shade from the tree above helped cool me down as I stared at my notebook. “Harvard students don’t have time to have a life.” I pulled my hair off my neck and fanned the sweat that had begun to form. I reached over and grabbed my now lukewarm lemonade and took a sip. 

Gigi sighed as she set down her sun reflector and swung her ridiculously long legs over the side of the lawn chair. She took off her sunglasses and stared me down. “Let’s do something,” she declared. She inspected something on her shoulder and moved to flick it away. Then she glanced back at me. “I’m bored.” 

I furrowed my brow. “I don’t have time. Mr. Klaton wants these problems done before school starts,” I said, writing the next answer. 

“Mr. Klaton is a communist,” Gigi said. She leaned her elbows on her thighs and clapped her hands together a few times. I could feel her gaze on me, and after a few seconds, I relented and looked up. Her eyebrows were furrowed as if that would convince me to move. 

“What?” I asked. 

“It’s summer. It’s hot. I don’t want to sit here and watch you do this.” She chewed her lip as she pretended to write furiously on her hand. “I want to go to the pool.” 

I was unimpressed as I sat back and wrapped my arm around my knees, hugging my legs to my chest. I rocked a few times before I sighed and nodded. “I’ll agree if—”

Her shriek cut through my words, so I paused, waiting for her to finish. Finally, she pinched her lips and nodded at me. “I’m done,” she whispered. 

I leaned forward and closed my book. Then I stood and wiped off the back of my shorts. “I was saying I’ll go if you promise we can leave after two hours.” I glanced down at my watch and took note of where that would leave me with time. 

I had soccer practice tonight and then dinner by myself while Mom complained about our life, about Dad, and about the Cartwright family—who were the reason the creditors were knocking on our door and all we had was instant ramen in our cupboards. 

If I wanted to get this set of problems done today, then…I glanced up to the sky. I could handle taking a break for a few hours. 

Gigi didn’t seem to notice my hesitation. She had slipped on her swimsuit cover and was tucking her magazine and phone into her purse. “Let’s go,” she squealed as she slipped her feet into her flip-flops and stood. “I’m so ready to cool off at the pool.”

I started to groan—water and I didn’t mix—but I stopped when she shot me a look. I knew I was being a crappy friend, so I forced a smile and raised my fists in the air. “Yay, the pool,” I said. 

If Gigi picked up on my sarcasm, she didn’t say anything. “Let’s get you changed into something that’s not a t-shirt from the fourth grade and your dad’s cutoff jeans.”

I glanced down at my baggy clothes—my comfortable baggy clothes—and then back over to her. There was no way I wanted to go back into the house. I didn’t know where Mom was or what state she was in.

But that right there was one reason why Gigi and I were still friends. She knew my dirt, and she still stuck around. She wasn’t scared of my family or the drama that went with them. 

She was the only person I could be myself around. 

“I like my clothes,” I said as I reached down and picked up my books. After I shoved them into my backpack, I moved to zip it, only to have Gigi pushing at my back. 

“Come on, zip and walk,” she said.

I sighed but obeyed. 

When we stepped into the house, the hair on the back of my neck stood up as I glanced around. My ears perked as I listened for any sign of Mom. 

When we passed by the living room and I saw that the couch had been vacated, I blew out my breath. She was either in her room, in the bathroom, or out. Right now, not being around me was where I wanted her. 

Once we were inside my room, Gigi spared no time as she marched over to my dresser and pulled out my red two-piece. I parted my lips to protest, but she didn’t look the least bit interested. 

“You’ve had this suit for over a year, it’s time to try it out.”

The sound that emerged from my lips rivaled a sputtering car engine. I wanted to say something. I wanted to object, but I knew it was futile. My mouth had given up before I even had the chance to speak. 

I collapsed on my bed and folded my arms. Gigi pointed her fingers from her eyes to me and then to the bikini she’d placed on the bed. Then she turned and left, shutting the door with a resounding thud on her way out. 

I sighed as I stood. I knew she wasn’t going to let this go. 

I bought the bikini last year when I was desperately trying to impress Miller Hardwell. But that had deflated faster than a helium balloon in below-zero weather. 

He wasn’t interested. And I was left with a broken heart and an itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny bikini. 

That was why I didn’t try. Why be disappointed over and over again? I had my brain, and I had soccer. There was nothing else I needed. 

I changed quickly and then pulled my t-shirt and shorts over my swimsuit. Gigi wanted me to wear the bikini, but she said nothing about covering it up. When I pulled open the door, her eyebrows went up. 

I held up my hands and smiled. “It’s on. It’s on.”

Gigi ran her gaze over me and then sighed as she turned and made her way down the stairs. She had her hand in her purse, and I could only assume she was grabbing her keys. 

“You’re hopeless, Bella Davenport,” she said. 

I chuckled as I followed after her. “But you love me?” I asked. We’d been friends since kindergarten. We were opposites, but I guess our history made up for personality quirks. 

She snorted as we stepped out into the blazing sun. When we got to her convertible, we opened the doors and climbed in. 

It took fifteen minutes to get to the Sweet Mountain community pool. There were two winding slides on either side. As a kid, they had been fun. But once you passed one hundred pounds, they become missile-shooting death traps. Especially since one was completely enclosed, which made it impossible to sit up. You spent twenty terrifying seconds getting splashed in the face and feeling as if your body was being torn apart. 

And at the end? A major wedgie. 

Not my idea of a party.

We climbed out of the car and slammed the doors behind us. With the beach a five-hour drive from our town, we had to resort to the pool. It wasn’t the greatest, but it was all we could afford. 

Gigi swung her bag over her shoulder as we walked toward the entrance. I kept in step with her as we approached Jordan, a junior at Sweet Mountain High and the goalie on my team. My smile spread as I met her gaze. 

“Hey, guys,” she said as she reached up and tightened her ponytail. “Wanting to cool off?”

Gigi nodded and snapped her gum. “Nerd over here had her nose in her textbook. It took some convincing, but I dragged her away. I’m melting like a popsicle.”

“Nerd? Nose in a book? That doesn’t sound like our Bella,” Jordan said with a huge smile. She rang us up and then handed us the wristbands. 

I shot her an annoyed look, and she just grinned harder. Just as we turned to walk away, she called after us. “Hey, did you guys hear the news?” 

I paused and glanced over my shoulder. “What news?” Had something happened to the team? To the school?

A look I couldn’t quite interpret passed over her face. It was like if excitement and intrigue had a baby. I raised my eyebrows, wondering what the heck she would be so cryptic about, but then a voice—a very familiar voice—spoke up from behind me. 

“Well, if it isn’t Bella Davenport,” Logan Cartwright’s unmistakable voice caused a fire to ignite in my stomach.

I whipped around to meet his—crap. He’d grown. A lot. And not just in height. He was…muscular. His dark hair was longer. It fell over his forehead, and he had to shake his head to fling it to the side. 

I stared at his familiar blue eyes. They danced with amusement as he stared down at me. His perfectly white teeth shone against his tanned skin as he raised his eyebrows. He was expecting a response from me, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of one. 

Not after what his dad did to my dad. Not after what he did to me. 

There was one person in my life who could die and I wouldn’t care—that person was Logan Cartwright. 

My cheeks were on fire as I stared at him. My mind was swirling with every insult I could think of to hurl his way. But none of them came out. It was like my tongue had turned to glue and cemented itself onto the roof of my mouth. 

“When did you get back?” Gigi asked. She obviously wasn’t struggling as much as I was. In fact, she looked completely at ease as she stared at him. 

Logan flicked his gaze in her direction then back to me. He pushed his hand through his hair and shrugged. “My dad made me move back last week. He’s taking over Cartwright Fishing International. I’m here ’cause Mom and him will be overseas. I’m staying with my gran.”

The entire time he spoke, I could feel his gaze on me, like he was staring me down. And that just angered me more. Who was he to just waltz back into Sweet Mountain like nothing had happened? 

We were enemies. Our families hated each other. Sweet Mountain was my turf. When his father cheated my dad out of his cut of the business and stole my dad’s invention on top of that, everything had ended in a metaphorical bloodbath. 

When they’d packed up and moved, we held a party. An actual party, with invites that read In Celebration of the Cartwright’s Leaving. I’m not saying it was the best attended party ever—I felt like people were too scared of what might happen if they didn’t come. But it made my parents happy—for a moment—even if it also made them feared. 

“Looking good, Bella,” he said as he took a moment to rake his gaze over me. 

I folded my arms in front of my chest and glared at him. He was such a jerk. Such a player. The fact that he was back was sending me on a Tilt-A-Whirl that made my stomach ache. 

“Ah, you’re still mad.” He glanced over at Gigi. “She still hates me.”

Gigi nodded as she snapped her gum. “Yeah, well, your family did a jerky thing.” She shrugged. “You kind of deserve it.”

A flash of something—maybe regret—passed over Logan’s face. But as quickly as it came, it disappeared. I let it go. There was no way I was going to stand here and try to interpret how he felt. 

I wasn’t going to give him headspace like that. 

Logan sighed. Someone behind us called his name, and he glanced up and waved. “Well, it’s been a blast catching up, but I gotta go.” He moved to step around me, and just as he did, I felt a thump on my back. Like he’d patted me or something. Startled, I jolted forward. 

When I whipped around, he called over his shoulder, “Don’t take life so seriously, Bells.”

I parted my lips, anticipating an incredible comeback, but the only thing that I managed to utter was, “You…” and then my brain fell flat. 

Furious, I glanced over at Gigi, who looked a little too amused. I glared at her as I wrinkled my nose. “What?” I asked, turning to march toward the turnstiles that led into the pool. 

Gigi laughed. “Nothing. You just…I’ve never seen you come to a complete halt before. I mean, it was like watching a mime. You moved but said nothing.”

I glared at her as I flashed my wristband at the person standing guard, and she waved me through. Once we were inside the pool area, we walked over to the lockers. We stripped down to our swimsuits, and for the first time ever, I was kind of glad I’d listened to Gigi. 

Wearing this swimsuit with Logan here felt like payback in and of itself. He’d changed a lot since his family packed up and left—but so had I. 

And my changes weren’t half bad. 

We shoved our things into a locker, and Gigi locked the door. I slipped my sunglasses on, and for a moment, allowed my gaze to slip over to where Logan was pulling off his t-shirt. 

Sweat began to form on my brow—and I wasn’t sure if it was from the heat or the way Logan’s muscles rippled when he moved. I grabbed Gigi’s hand and pulled her to the pool. I needed the cool water to slap some sense into me. 

If Logan was back in Sweet Mountain, that meant one thing: I needed to be on my guard at all times. Getting lost in his grown-into looks wasn’t going to help me. 

He was the enemy.

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