"Do you understand what this means?" she hissed at Dad, who sat slumped at the kitchen table. His face was pale, his eyes hollow.
"They're cutting me loose," he said finally. His voice was quiet, but it carried like a stone dropping into still water. "By the end of summer, I won't have a job. They've already decided. And —" he rubbed a hand over his face "we can't stay here. We have to move."
My stomach dropped. Move. The word thundered in my head.
Mum's anger flared, spilling out like fire. She turned on the little ones, snapping at them for the noise they weren't even making. Zoey clung tighter to me, her small fingers digging into my shoulder.
I didn't say a word. Didn't dare.
But inside, all I could think was that the only place I'd ever felt like myself — the woods, the lake, Tommy —might vanish with the summer sun.
And that when Dad lost his job, I'd lose Tommy too.
Tommy
I don't think my feet touched the ground on the way back from the woods.
My chest felt light, my skin buzzing, and every time I blinked, our kiss replayed on a loop in my head — soft, tentative, awkward — and yet it felt like the most certain thing I'd ever done.
All I cared about was Emma, and the way she made me feel like I wasn't just my parents' son, or the boy who always said yes, sir.
"Tommy!"
The shout snapped me back. Jack was by the back steps, a football spinning in his hands. Alex leaned against the railing, smirking. Both of them were watching me far too closely.
"Where've you been?" Alex asked, his grin wicked. "The woods, again?"
Jack's eyes widened with mock shock. "He's got a girlfriend! Tommy's got a girlfriend!" He sang it like a chant, tapping the football against his knee.
"Shut up," I muttered, heat crawling up my neck.
They only laughed harder, Jack's voice carrying across the lawn like a bell. "Is she pretty? Is she from town? You've been sneaking off every day — don't think we haven't noticed."
My fists clenched, but I forced my face into something neutral. If I rose to it, they'd never let it go. "I go for walks," I said stiffly. "That's all."
"Sure," Alex drawled, smirk widening.
I pushed past them, slipping into the house before they could press more. But the moment I closed the door, I felt another pair of eyes on me.
Mother stood in the hallway, arms crossed, her pearl earrings catching the light. "You've been disappearing rather a lot lately, Thomas."
Her voice was smooth, but it carried an edge, the kind that sliced through skin without leaving a mark.
"I just… needed some air," I said, keeping my gaze down.
She tilted her head, studying me the way she studied furniture arrangements or flower displays — looking for imperfections. "Air," she repeated. "Well. Don't let it interfere with your studies. Your father expects discipline."
"Yes, Mother."
She lingered a moment longer, as if waiting for me to slip, before gliding away toward the sitting room.
I let out a slow breath, my pulse still racing.
If they ever found out about Emma — about the woods, the lake, the kiss — I didn't know what would happen.
But even with Jack's teasing and Mother's suspicions, I couldn't bring myself to regret it. Not for a second.
The next morning, I thought I'd escaped suspicion. Jack had already left to kick a ball around, Alex was sprawled on the rug with his comic books, and Father had disappeared behind the heavy study door. I was about to retreat upstairs when Mother's voice rang out.
"Thomas, come here a moment."
I froze halfway up the staircase. Her tone wasn't sharp this time, which somehow felt worse.
She stood by the window, surveying the lake as though it belonged to her. A teacup balanced in her hand, her nails painted in perfect half-moons. Without looking at me, she said, "I've decided we shall host a summer gathering. A bonfire by the lake, lanterns, music. The families with the summer houses are simply dying for some proper entertainment."
My stomach dropped.
Mother finally turned, her eyes bright with a particular kind of ambition. "It will be the event of the season. Your father will make the introductions you'll need in your future. You will mix with the right sort of people. I'll see to the details, of course."
She was already sketching the evening in her mind: summer dresses, polished shoes, laughter rolling across the water. Father would use it to network. And me…
All I could think of was Emma.
Emma, who hated crowds and noise. Emma, who carried her little sister through the woods because home was too heavy.
Two worlds colliding on the same shoreline. The thought made my chest tight. I could see it already — Mother's eyes narrowing, Father's cool appraisal, the whispers of neighbours who would never see Emma the way I did.
I nodded because that was what I always did. "Yes, Mother."
But inside, panic crawled beneath my skin.
The woods had been ours. Quiet, secret, safe.
A bonfire would change things. Other people would be walking, chatting freely, in our space. And for the first time, I wondered if the summer I'd dreamed of with Emma could survive the light of everyone else's expectations.