Chapter 3

Summer was finally here,and with it, the promise of long, lazy days spent by the lake. I couldn't wait to leave the school year behind and feel the warm sun on my skin. But more than anything, I was excited about the baseball games.

I could already hear the crack of the bat, the cheers of the fans, and the smell of hot dogs and popcorn that blended together. And then there were the peanuts. There's something about that salty, slightly sweet flavor that just screams "baseball game."

I always made my brother think that going to his summer games was an inconvenience, rolling my eyes, sighing dramatically, and walking reluctantly toward the car with a sour attitude. Deep down, I loved everything about it, even sitting next to Mom and Dad, who were usually the loudest and most embarrassing ones in the crowd. There was nothing like watching Parker catch behind the plate—or Boston crushing a ball out of the park.

Parker drove, playing his stereo way too loud, for two whole hours. The eagerness built within me as we rounded a bend in the road, revealing the breathtaking panorama of Bayside Lake. My heart skipped a beat at the view—clear blue waters stretching to meet the horizon, framed by the lush forest and tall mountains in the distance.

"We're here!" Parker yelled, his excitement echoing my own as he pointed toward the small cabin nestled among the trees.

Our excitement was palpable as we tumbled out of the car, eager to finally get inside. The scent of families grilling out and the smell of fresh water and wet rocks filled the air.

Boston had already arrived and was taking his bags inside. He threw us a wave. His bright eyes caught mine for a moment too long, causing a familiar flutter in my stomach.

"Welcome to Grandpa's pride and joy," he said, sweeping an arm toward the cabin with a welcoming smile. "He left it to my mom, but you know she hates Bayside and doesn't want to deal with it. She has a friend who rents it out and manages it during the year though, so it's kept up."

Boston had another connection to this place other than baseball. His mom grew up in Bayside and raved about its beauty, but her memories were far from idyllic.

"Do you think she'll make it to any of the games?" Parker ventured gently, knowing the answer but asking anyway.

"Probably not," Boston sighed, his voice low. He glanced down at his hands, a sense of helplessness washing over him. "She has too much on her plate at work."

According to his mom, this town wasn't kind to her as a teenager. Cliques and mean girls had made school miserable, and she couldn't wait to leave it all behind. In recent years, Boston and Parker have taken advantage of the cabin being in Bayside, one of the most coveted spots for summer baseball in North Carolina.

"Maybe this summer will be different…" I began, although I knew I was giving him false hope.

"Maybe," he echoed, but we both knew the truth. The games would come and go, and Boston's heart would break a little each time the crowd cheered, and she was nowhere to be found. They were so close and she never missed a college game, but I've never seen her at any summer games.

Parker laid a comforting hand on Boston's shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "Bro, listen," he urged. Boston met his eyes, and Parker's gaze held nothing but conviction. "One day, when you go pro, you'll be able to take care of her. She won't have to work herself into the ground for much longer."

He nodded. I watched as the edges of my heart frayed a little. Boston was phenomenal on the field, but I could always tell in his face that he could never fully enjoy them without her watching.

"And don't you worry," Parker nudged him with a broad shoulder, his tone a mixture of concern and mischief. "I am going to make sure you have a very interesting summer."

"I don't doubt that for a second," Boston smiled, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly.

"Well, it looks cozy," I pointed out, hoping my voice sounded steadier than I felt.

"I guess," Boston smiled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Your room is the first bedroom on the left when you pass the living room."

"Sounds good. I'm heading in to check it out," I announced as I pulled my luggage out of the car.

As soon as we got inside, Parker wandered over to the large bay window that looked out onto the shimmering lake.

"Home sweet home," he announced. "Look at some of these other houses around here, with their tennis courts and fancy boats tied up like they're trying to show off."

A lot of the local families who lived here were wealthy. Parker and I were by no means rich, more like middle-class. My mother worked as a teacher while my father worked in construction.

"Well, this cabin has charm," I challenged. "And enough room for us."

"Exactly," Parker replied, a softness entering his eyes. "Who needs a tennis court when you've got the whole lake?"

Natural light flowed through every inch of the cabin, and the cozy furniture and rustic decor seemed perfect for lazy days taking naps in front of the fireplace.

"I'm pretty sure I could sit out here all summer," Parker announced as he opened the screen door and claimed the first outdoor chair on the deck.

Soon, he and Boston were arguing over who would get the room that led to the patio, their grins mischievous as each argued their case. As I laughed watching them, it felt like the three of us were kids again.

Once they settled down, Boston leaned against the counter, and shot me that familiar smile of his. "I'll make us something to eat."

"You cook?" I blurted out in surprise.

"You know it's always just been my mom and me," he said, with a half-smile as he shrugged his shoulders. "Had to learn some skills to survive."

"Good to know," I grinned, happily surprised. "Because I'm nowhere near decent in the kitchen, and Parker… Well, let's just say he shouldn't quit baseball to be a chef."

From the patio drifted in Parker's voice. "Hey! I've been told the pizza rolls I make are superb, like no other!"

Boston gave me a sly glance, and we both stifled our laughter. "I'll take your word for it, bro!" he called back, shaking his head.

"Really, though," Parker's voice floated in with humor, "you don't know what you're missing. Culinary magic, I tell ya."

"You think he means tragic?" Boston whispered under his breath, earning him a playful shove from me.

"Well, maybe I can teach you a thing or two," he quipped, turning his attention to the sizzling pan before him. I didn't hate seeing him like this, showing a side of him that wasn't just about sports or the crowd he hung out with at school.

"Okay, chef," I said, playing along, "what do you need?"

"Grab some plates, will you?" He said as he turned off the stove.

I nodded as I opened the cupboard, reaching for the dishes. As we moved in the small space of the kitchen, laughter mingled with the clinking of plates. We sat down to eat, enjoying each other"s company in this cozy cabin.