Book 3 The Summer I Turned Pretty -

Belly set her cup down in the sand and walked toward the house. She found him leaning against the porch railing, facing the ocean. The screen door groaned behind her, but he didn’t turn.

Belly watched the flames from the edge of the dune, a red plastic cup dangling from her fingers. She wasn’t drinking. She was counting.

“Because I’m the one who walks away,” he said. “That’s my job. That’s always been my job.” book 3 the summer i turned pretty

“Because I can’t sit at that fire and pretend,” he said quietly. “Pretend I’m fine. Pretend we’re all fine. Pretend Mom—”

Conrad’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. “That sounds like him.” Belly set her cup down in the sand

Her heart slammed against her ribs. “What does that mean?”

He stopped. Swallowed.

And before Belly could say the thing she’d been holding in her chest since she was ten years old— It’s always been you, it’s always been you, why can’t you see it’s always been you —Conrad Fisher walked back into the dark house and closed the door softly behind him.