Even if it meant nothing, at least it would distract me from everything else. As much as I wasn’t of the Campbell Ames school of thought on working out issues, the idea of touching Nick’s hair again—touching him again—wasn’t entirely without appeal.

I looked down at my phone. Headed to the lake. My fingers typed out the message. Let me know if you need an escort for Fourth of July. I hit send right before looking up and catching sight of my mom. She would have been thrilled to know that I was texting a boy.

The thought made me sick to my stomach.

How many men had I seen her fall for? My childhood was filled with optimistic starts, followed alternatingly by boredom and broken hearts. Texting and dancing and touching wasn’t for girls like me.

I put my phone away and my brain on lockdown. Fortunately, we arrived at the lake house before my memory could start torturing me with anything else.

“Ellie, why don’t you and Sawyer take the turret room?” Lillian deftly avoided allowing Lily to kick me out of our formerly shared room, as the lot of us exited the car.

“Lily can bunk in my room,” John David hollered, even though he was standing maybe four feet away from the rest of us. “I’ll mostly be in the garage, working on the golf cart. I’m going to need someone to take me to Walmart to get supplies. Lots of supplies. This parade won’t win itself, people.”

“I’ll go,” I volunteered. Less time with Lily, less time with my mom.

“There’s no need to put yourself out, Sawyer,” Lily told me. “I’ll take John David.”

That was the first thing she’d said to me in two weeks, and the subtext hit me harder than an insult. There was no need to put myself out, because I wasn’t family.

Not her family.

Not anymore.

The view from the turret room hadn’t changed. Even though it was the middle of the week, there was already plenty of traffic out on the water.

“There’ll be fireworks tomorrow.” My mom threw her bag on one of the beds. I heard her flop down beside it. “Hundreds of boats will be anchored in that cove to watch. I’m sure John David is looking forward to the F-16 flyover—or at least, that’s what he’ll be looking forward to after the golf cart parade.”

“And the pie-eating contest,” I said, turning away from the window. I spotted a rose sitting at the end of my bed and another one sitting at the end of Lily’s. There were envelopes attached.