She's Got a Way (19 page)

“Friend.” Sam snorted. “Yeah, that's the word we use here.”

Gabi sighed, wishing Sam could drop the untouchable act just for a few minutes. But after what had happened, her walls were up higher than ever. No way was Luke going to get her to be cooperative this morning.

“I get it, Sam.” He nodded. “And if I was in your shoes, I'd be hard-pressed to use the word right now, too. What happened was scary. You're not likely to get it out of your head for a long, long time.”

“Thank you, Dr. Freud.”

“Sam—” Gabi warned, but Luke put up a gentle hand to stop her.

“You know what? Maybe you guys will never be friends.” He shrugged. “And that's okay. Totally fine. But you
do
have to figure out how to live together and work together … and not kill each other—literally
or
figuratively—so that's what we're going to work on, starting today.”

Eve narrowed her eyes. “What does
that
mean?”

Waverly giggled, then clapped her hand across her mouth. The poor girl was a nervous wreck.

“The first thing we're going to do is start working as a team. A real team. Not the kind that snips and snipes and annoys the hell out of each other whenever possible.”

“But—” Eve piped up.

“No buts. You guys are exceptionally good at pissing each other off whenever possible. I imagine it's your pattern at Briarwood, and I also imagine it's a huge contributor to why you ended up here in the first place. But here's the thing. If you don't break this pattern, you're going to go
back
to Briarwood doing the same thing, and from what I understand, every single one of you is one tiny step away from being expelled.” He stopped, scanning their faces. “Anybody anxious for that to happen?”

Gabi honestly figured a couple of them might raise their hands at this point, but nobody did.
Huh.

“Good.” He rubbed his hands together. “We've got a lot of work to do, and the first thing we're going to tackle is the very thing that got us into yesterday's situation.”

Madison looked up suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

“I mean … Sam's going to learn to swim.”

“What?”
Sam looked like she might just flee the clearing and take her chances with the bears.

“You heard me. It's camp policy, actually, so my hands are tied. If we discover that a camper isn't confident in the water, it's our job to make sure that gets fixed. What I
do
know, after all these years, is that it's never the camper's fault that he or she hasn't been taught to swim. It's their grown-ups' fault for never making sure they
got
taught.”

Gabi cocked her head, listening to his words. She loved how he was taking the blame squarely off from Sam's shoulders, but couldn't tell if Sam was buying it yet.

He continued. “So, Sam, whether you were ever given the opportunity to learn or not, the fact is, somebody failed you. And I'm really pretty ticked off at that person right now. Or those persons—I don't know who's responsible.” He ducked his head toward her, subtly forcing her to engage. “We won't fail you, Sam. You will not leave here without knowing to swim. And once you do, you will no longer have to be afraid of the water, okay?”

Sam looked up at him, a mixture of terror and—was that hope?—in her eyes.

Madison raised her eyebrows. “Who's going to teach her?”

Luke looked at each of them in turn. “We'll figure that out.”

“Oh, hell, no.” Sam unfolded herself from her log and stood up. “I'm not taking swimming lessons from them. No way.”

“Sam?” He said it softly, but Gabi knew nobody in the circle would miss the tone.
Don't you dare leave,
it said.

Sam rolled her eyes, but shoved her hands in her shorts pockets, leaning against a tree, making sure he knew she'd leave whenever she damn well pleased, thank you very much.

Gabi loved that Luke let her have the win on that one.

*   *   *

That night, Gabi pulled the tent flap closed behind her, then zipped up her sweatshirt. She couldn't sleep, and she was sick of lying on her cot wondering what every snuffle and scratch outside the tent was. She'd spent the day practically tethered to the girls as they'd finished painting the bathroom and installing the water heater with Luke, and though they'd been generally cooperative, she still didn't know whether she'd made the right call, not putting them all in the van and heading back to Briarwood.

The vision of the hard-hat signs tacked to the dorm doors was the main thing that had kept her from doing just that, she was afraid.

But the bigger thing that had stopped her from begging Oliver for her battery was the fact that if they went back now, having solved
nothing,
they'd drive back through those school gates, settle back into their previous patterns, and probably end up expelled before October.

It would be the end of the scholarship program at Briarwood. It would be the end of the road for Eve and Sam. They'd go back to what passed for their dismal homes, and then … Gabi took a deep breath. Then, who knew what? Would they graduate? Or would they fall into the same statistical traps that held so many of their peers hostage?

But as much as she worried about the two of them, she couldn't help but stew about Madison and Waverly, as well. The two of them had grown up privileged, had gotten away with minor incidents all year, and thanks to Priscilla and the entire board at Briarwood, had essentially gotten away with an actual crime just weeks ago, since the police had never been involved. So what had they learned if Gabi failed here this summer?

They'd learned that money would pave the way, would cover their tracks, would absolve them of responsibility, while they lived by the mantra that rules applied only to other people.

Just like Garrett.

Gabi pictured her older brother, blond and gorgeous, full of himself and untouchable, and she shivered. He'd been a boarding-school brat just like her, but unlike her, he'd spent most of his boarding-school years getting into one sort of trouble or another. Usually it was minor stuff—typical stupid pranks—but other times, Gabi knew her own father had slid proverbial cash under proverbial tables in order to ensure that one headmaster or another would turn a blind eye to Garrett's little crimes.

Once she'd figured it out, she'd been disgusted. What was Garrett learning if Dad constantly used money to cover up his transgressions? And as she got older, she knew that what he was
learning
was that he
wasn't
responsible for his actions … that no matter what he did, Dad would bail him out, because it was better than weathering the inevitable scandal that might accompany the truth getting out. Dad's political platform—ironically enough—was founded on the ideals of honesty and transparency. A wayward son threatened that, so the wayward son was sent on a constant stream of faraway, low-profile excursions to keep him far from the spotlight.

Countries with looser laws were a favorite destination.

Yes, if normal societal rules had governed her brother's upbringing—and the night that still made bile rise in Gabi's throat—he'd be rotting in a cell right now, exactly where he belonged. Instead, he was probably traveling the Mediterranean on some friend's ginormous cruise boat, still untouchable, still using Dad's money as if he'd earned it himself as he blazed a trail through a bevy of fashion models and starlets. Gabi shuddered, wondering if any of
them
had seen his dark side … if Dad was still paying new people for their silence.

Gabi pictured her friend Nora, tears coursing down her face as she'd refused to talk to the police. Then she pictured herself packing her suitcase with shaking hands that same Christmas night, buying a bus ticket to Boston, and calling her mother hours later to let her know she was safe.

And to let her know she would never be home again.

She'd returned the checks her father had sent her, the ones that came with notes begging her to think about family, keep her mouth shut … make sure Nora did the same.

Her reward had been a clean, swift cut.
Our family's not good enough for you? Then our money isn't, either.
And her trust fund had been reallocated to Garrett.

She'd sat out the next semester at Wellesley, working two different part-time jobs and applying for scholarships, and when she'd finally entered the brick buildings again, under her own power, she'd done so with a clarity of purpose she hadn't let go of since.

Yes, she had a responsibility to open up opportunities for girls like Sam and Eve, but just as importantly, she couldn't let Madison and Waverly—or any of the other girls at Briarwood—grow up thinking they were untouchable. She couldn't turn them out into the world thinking there was a different set of laws created for those who could pay for protection. She couldn't—she
wouldn't
—let them
ever
get away with hurting someone again, whether it was intentional or not.

Because if she didn't do
her
job, she'd be allowing two more Garretts to wreak havoc on the world. And people like Sam and Eve would be victims like Nora.

She turned on the flashlight and did a sweep of the clearing, but didn't see any scary sets of eyes in the bushes, so she set off down the pathway toward Luke's cabin. It was eleven o'clock—definitely too late to visit someone without notice—but Gabi couldn't lie in that tent any longer without talking to him.

As she crested the rise, she saw his log cabin nestled against the steep hillside, warm lights glowing from its windows. The cabin had a stone chimney gracing the right side, and a wide front porch with a swing and two Adirondack chairs. The door was open, and she could see Luke through the screen, moving about a little kitchen area in just his shorts.

She swallowed hard, watching him even while she chided herself for doing so. How pathetic was it to be standing outside in the dark, ogling a man who didn't know she was there?

As she watched, he got two beers out of his fridge.
Oh, no.
He had company. Gabi was standing outside his cabin like a peeping Tom, and he was entertaining a woman.

She started to turn back down the pathway, but stopped when she saw him pull a shirt over his head, grab a metal mixing bowl and the beers, and push open the door onto his screened porch. He set the beers down on a table between the Adirondack chairs, then stood up and looked like he was staring directly at her.

She instinctively backed up, even though there was no way he could see her, right? Then his hand came up, and suddenly she couldn't see at all, because a painfully bright light was shining directly in her eyes.

Well. Apparently he could see her just fine.

“Out for a stroll, Gabi?” He moved the light down her body and away from her, and she could hear the amusement in his tone.
Great.

She walked toward him, stopping when she was just inside the light cast by the porch lanterns. “Sorry. The girls are zonked, but I couldn't sleep. Just thought I'd take a walk.”

“After the hike I took you on the other day? You're willing to chance it out here at night?”

“Really, really couldn't sleep. And I figured most of your warnings were for effect.” She motioned to the drinks on the porch. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you when you have company.”

“I don't have company.”

“But—two drinks.” She shook her head. It wasn't her business. “Never mind.”

“Gabi, I saw you come over the hill. Figured you were either sleepwalking, or you needed some company.” He narrowed his eyes like he was trying to zoom in on her face. “And if you're sleepwalking, you're awfully lucid.”

She looked up at him, wishing she didn't feel so damn vulnerable right now. It made it hard to sort out whether she'd have found him just as gorgeous, just as warm, just as sweet if she was in a normal state of mind … on her own turf.

He motioned to the porch. “I have your favorite kind of chair here. Want to sit and have a beer with me? I'd offer wine, but I don't drink the stuff.”

When she didn't move, he continued, “I could use the company. All I've got here is the four-legged variety.” As she started up the steps, he opened the screen door, and two little white balls of fluff tumbled out and zoomed her way.

She laughed when she got to the top step and found herself unable to walk as the two tiny dogs threaded themselves around her feet.

“Down, killers.” Luke scooped one dog with each hand, letting Gabi pass through the door. “Sorry about that. We don't get a lot of company.”

“They're adorable.” Gabi reached out to pet one of them, and was promptly rewarded with a lick to her chin. “Aww. Hi, little one.” She looked at Luke. “How come we see so little of them?”

“My friends Josie and Ethan run a special home in town for kids who are dealing with cancer. Josie comes and kidnaps the dogs all the time to go hang out with the kids.”

“That is so cool. So they're like therapy dogs?”

“Not officially. They're just small and sweet and love kids.” He shrugged. “It works.”

“Can I hold one?”

“Be my guest.” He handed her a dog, who squirmed in her arms, desperate to deliver more kisses. She sat down, giggling, as the tiny thing burrowed its head into her neck and licked her ear.

“I'm sorry. You can put her down.” Luke reached for the dog, but Gabi laughed.

“Oh, she's fine.” She settled the dog in her lap, where it promptly turned three circles and lay down, looking up at her with big brown eyes. “I have to say, I totally would have pictured you with a Saint Bernard or something.”

“Thank you. I think. I did used to own a respectable-sized dog. Just putting that out there.” Luke handed her a beer, motioning to the popcorn. “I don't know what you drink. Hope this works.”