Chapter Text
This was supposed to be your summer in the lake house. Garrett had it last year. That was the deal.
Yet as you pull into the gravel drive leading down to the cabin, you spot several cars parked there. Including your brother’s. You curse under your breath and pull out your phone. It rings twice before he answers.
“Yep?” Garrett says. You can hear in his voice that he’s distracted, probably balancing the phone between his shoulder and ear while he games.
“What are you doing, Garrett?”
“Huh?” You hear laughter from his end of the phone and a tinny explosion coming from the TV. “What are you talking about?”
“Why the hell are you at the lake house?!”
You’ve been driving for four hours in a car that has no air conditioning and a faulty aux cable. Not to mention the smell of wet dog that you’ve been unable to air out since you bought it second-hand from the creepy guy off Facebook who arrived wearing a dressing gown and a pair of sunglasses, despite it being half nine in the evening, in the middle of winter.
You’re not in the mood to play games with your brother.
You hear the realisation dawn on Garrett over the phone. “Fuuuuuuuck.”
“Yes, Garrett. Fuck. I’ve got my friends coming over in just over a week.”
You unclip your seat and let your head fall back against the headrest, pinching the space between your eyebrows.
Garrett clears his throat. The racket of the TV falls quiet as he pauses his game. “Well, we’d planned on staying here all of July.”
“It’s June 25th!”
“Can you not just change your dates around? Why don’t you come in August instead?”
“Because I’ve already driven all this goddamn way and I’m parked out front.”
You hear him shift from the couch and then the shuffling of footsteps. A moment later, Garrett appears at one of the large windows facing the back. He lifts a hand tentatively, then waves. You don’t return the gesture.
Angrily, you put the phone down and then throw it onto the dashboard. You don’t care if you’re being petty; you needed this break. Away from Briar University, away from Jake and all of his bullshit commitment issues. You had been hoping for some peace and quiet, but all of the cars parked in front of you tell you that’s not going to happen.
It looks like Garrett’s brought the whole damn team.
This situation couldn’t get any worse.
With a groan, you drag yourself from the car. You’re sticky from the long drive, your skin clammy from the humid summer air. The lake house door bangs closed, and you look up to find Garrett walking toward you, his hands held up in a show of innocence.
“I’m sorry, genuinely,” he says. He tucks his hands into his pockets and stands there awkwardly, waiting for you to speak. When you don’t say anything, he says, “I can’t ask them to leave. We only just got here, and the drive–”
“I know.” You interject, still avoiding your older brother's eye. “I know, Garrett.”
The thought of jumping straight back into your car and doing the reverse of your journey makes you want to put your face in a pillow and scream.
It’s almost midday, and the sun is just about high enough to peek over the trees that line the lake and surround the cabin. But there are clouds rolling in; they’ve been chasing you ever since you left campus. You close your eyes and breathe in the smell of pine, listen to the way the breeze whispers through the trees. That alone is enough to bring your heartbeat down a few notches.
“Come inside and have a drink,” Garrett says. He’s trying to win you over – you can tell it by the tone of his voice. It’s the same one he’s used since you were children, when he’d done something bad and didn’t want you to tell Dad. “We’ll have a breather, and then we’ll figure it out.”
You open one eye and still manage to give him a scalding glare. “You better get me a beer,” you say tightly. “And it better be freezing.”
There’s a cold beer in your hand, a frown twisting your lips and four hockey players praying you’re not about to ruin their summer plans.
“Hear me out,” says Dean Heyward-Di Laurentis carefully, like you’re a bomb that needs diffusing. “This cabin is huge. Massive. A mansion, some might say–”
“Get on with it, Dean,” Garrett urges.
Dean shoots him a look over his shoulder. He’s sitting on one of the worn sofas facing you, his feet propped up on the coffee table. He looks more at home in the cabin than you do, which rubs you the wrong way.
“All I’m saying is that there are plenty of empty rooms – including, most importantly, yours.”
“I’m guessing you’ve all got your own rooms, right?” you ask, your eyes flicking between them. Their silence confirms your assumption. “So, excluding my room, that leaves two empty rooms...” The silence continues. “I have four friends coming to stay.”
“Can’t you guys share?” Dean asks.
You bark out a laugh at his suggestion. “Hell no. This is my summer at the lake house – you guys had it last year!”
“Yeah, she’s not wrong–” Tucker begins.
“Whose side are you on, man?!” Dean hisses.
“When are your friends arriving?” It’s Logan who speaks this time. You’d hoped he might stay quiet, considering the awkward history you guys share. Well, history might be a bit of an overstatement, actually.
You quickly chase away the memories before they can materialise in your mind. Flashbacks of that night you visited Garrett and Logan made you feel like a piece of shit on his–
“Does it matter?” you answer coolly. God, you can’t even look him in the eye.
He’s directly across from you, sitting beside Dean. You keep your focus on the other side of the room, pretending something outside the window has caught your attention.
“Well, yeah. It kind of does.” His tone is just as icy.
Garrett steps in. “Okay, guys, let’s not go for each other’s throats.”
He knows how you feel about Logan. He rubs the back of his neck, uncomfortable, moving from his position in the corner of the room to stand between you and the other three guys.
“Sis, how many days did you say it was until they get here?”
“Nine.”
“Huh. That’s better than I expected.” Garrett crosses his arms; you can practically see the cogs whirring in his mind, formulating a plan.
“Look, I know this isn’t ideal,” he says, looking between you and his friends. “For anyone. Especially not you.” He gives you a sympathetic glance and you feel a pang of guilt for your crappy attitude. “But we’ve still got over a week until your friends are due. We might just have to cut our trip short, boys. But I reckon we can still make the most of it?”
Tucker nods encouragingly. Dean’s mouth settles into a thin line. And Logan just looks at you with that impassive gaze of his, thinking he’s some damn closed book. But you know the thoughts that are going through his head right now – hell, you’ve even heard him say them out loud before.
That you’re spoilt. Arrogant. That you treat Garrett like shit and only ever think of yourself. You bet he’s thinking all of those assumptions he had about you have been proven correct by the way you’ve handled yourself since you arrived at the lake house.
Well fuck you, too, you think, meeting his icy gaze. This is my home, not yours.
And hell will freeze over before you let John Logan ruin your summer.