“So, what, you saved someone from a burning ship or something like that?”

He shrugged. “Something like that.”

She watched him for a long moment, and an unspeakable something passed between them.

“You’re not going to give me the details, are you?”

“I’m a man of mystery.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. What’s your big plan, skipper?” She walked past him, toward the water.

“Skipper?” He followed her.

“Your new nickname. I think it suits you.” She grinned at him over her shoulder, and he could see that she’d moved past whatever moment they’d almost shared.

Or maybe he’d only imagined there was a moment. Maybe he’d only imagined there was anything between them at all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

AGAINST HER BETTER JUDGMENT, Louisa trudged toward Sesachacha Pond. She remembered the first time she saw the name of the pond on the map—she butchered its pronunciation so badly, the other kids on the beach laughed at her for a solid five minutes. They called her the “Sesa-cha-cha girl” that entire summer.

“What’s with them?” Cody had asked, and Louisa only shrugged. She didn’t know what was with them. She didn’t know why the name of this pond was funny or what she’d done to make it more so. She only knew that when they pointed and laughed at her, her cheeks flamed and her skin burned. She wanted to hide.

“What’s your problem?” Cody had shouted in their general direction.

One girl, a summer resident named Autumn who wasn’t a part of the mockers, quietly came over to them, as if she had something to say.

“It’s pronounced ‘Sack-a-juh,’” she said. “But I kind of like your way better.” Autumn smiled then, and she became one of Louisa’s best friends, second only to Cody Boggs.

Louisa had gone home that afternoon with a sunburn, feeling a little less like a social outcast thanks to Autumn and Cody.

Now, standing near the water, she wanted to turn and run, but her desire to leave had less to do with the water and more to do with the fact that Cody had her insides all tangled up. She stole a glimpse of his profile, highlighted by the shadows of the late-afternoon sun.

“What are we doing here?” she asked. “Where’s the boat?”

“No boat,” he said.

She looked at him full-on, doing nothing to hide her confusion. “What do you mean ‘no boat’?”

“You trust me, right?” He held his hand out in her direction, and she stared at it for several seconds like she didn’t know what it was.

When she didn’t move, he dropped his hand. “Oh. So you don’t trust me.”

“No,” she said. “I do.”

“Then let me help you.”