Love Next Door (Lakeside #1) by Helena Hunting

“You’ve been the highlight of this exile, so far.” His smile turns soft. “Look, I don’t blame you. You don’t know me, and I know you and Bee were close. Besides, I didn’t do myself any favors with the late-night remodeling and the drunk and disorderly friends.” Van tips his head down, and the brim of his hat casts a shadow over his face. Another flash of déjà vu.

I shake my head, trying to erase the memory. It was probably the last beach party I went to before I left for college, and tonight is full of memories.

“Anyway, enough of my sob story. Talking about this makes me sound like an emo teenager. I have a place to live, and once we figure out exactly what happened, I’ll be able to clear my name, and I’ll be employable again. I gotta say, despite the less-than-ideal reasons for me being here, this is a nice break from the city grind. The pace isn’t as hectic. It’s more relaxed. It’s a good reminder that there’s more to life than fancy cars and expensive clothes.”

“There’s something about Chicago, or any city, I imagine, isn’t there? You’re surrounded by people whose entire existence is about having more; it’s hard not to get caught up in it.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

It’s my turn to shrug. “I spent my entire life wanting to escape the small-town stereotype. I don’t think it helps that one side of this lake is all about excess and the other is very much the opposite. It turned into one of those grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side scenarios. I wanted to have more, to be better, to get out of here and really live.”

Van props his chin on his fist. “And did you?”

“In some ways, yes. I went to college in Chicago. Got a job, had an apartment, and made good money, but the thing about living in a major city is that it’s expensive, and you have to work the hours to support the lifestyle.”

“Or live on lines of credit,” Van deadpans.

“The only thing worse than having nothing is having less than nothing because it’s all borrowed money. So yeah, I lived that city life, and I loved it while I was in it. And then I came back here to help out my family and get my feet back under me before the city ate all my savings.”

“Which you weren’t all that happy about. The being-back-here part, I mean.”

“Not really, no.”

“Because of Tucker the Fucker?”

I laugh. “I used to call him that all the time after I moved away. And yeah, that’s part of it. Although I don’t think I realized how big a part that played until recently. Sometimes one person can muddy all your memories with a layer of discontent, and Tucker was that for me.” Between the confrontation with Allie and opening up to Van, saying this all out loud seems to be making it clearer. I have been avoiding the bad memories, and facing my past. Ones I was responsible for creating with my complacency. But in doing that I lost out on years of friendship.

“And now, how do you feel about working for your dad’s construction company?”

I tug on a wet ringlet. “At first I wasn’t all that excited, but now I kind of love it. The woman they had doing the paperwork before she left to have a baby had the worst filing system ever, and as much as it’s been a pain, now that I’ve organized it, things are running smoothly. It’s rewarding to foster relationships with local companies that help keep the community going, you know? As much as I wanted to get out of this small town, I still cared about the people. We’re all here supporting each other, just trying to make a living.”

Van nods knowingly. “I get why Bee loves you. Loved you,” he corrects, that smile turning wistful for a second. “She talked about you all the time. Sometimes I was a little jealous of your relationship with her.”

“Jealous? Why?”

“Because you were so close to her. You had access to her all the time growing up, and I didn’t. It’s interesting how determined you were to escape the place I considered my haven. The weeks I spent up here in the summers were something I looked forward to every year. That never changed for me, not even as I got older.”

“Well, it was sort of a vacation for you, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, but it was also more than that. Here, people seem to have each other’s backs, at least for the most part. There’s a community here that doesn’t exist in the same way in the city. There’s no anonymity.”

“It’s a blessing and a curse.”

“I can see that. Everyone knows your business, but at the same time, the lack of posturing is a nice change. You are who you are. No one cares about what kind of car you drive or how much money you make. Except maybe Tucker the Fucker. Hell, it seems to be a badge of honor to drive a rusted-out, beat-up old pickup truck because it means you love it enough to keep fixing it.”

“To be fair, I think Bee refused to give up the pickup truck because it was your grandfather’s other lover. He spent as much time tinkering with that thing as he did sitting with Bee on the front porch. At least that’s how it seemed when I was a kid.”

“Whenever I visited, he spent most of his time in the garage,” Van agrees.

We both smile, and Van tips his head, eyes dipping down.

“Does everyone around here mumble and add an r to your name and call you Darlin’?”