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rainbowfic2013-01-25 03:34 am
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2013-01-25 03:34 am
True Blue 10, Zing 10: Lonely
Author: Kat
Title: Lonely
Story: In the Heart.
Colors: True blue 10 (I was up all night with a sick friend.), zing 10 (bring a friend, if you have one) with shadowsong's paint-by-numbers (And also a bottle of wine. Please?)
Supplies and Materials: Frame, stained glass, glitter ("Man, when he does not grieve, hardly exists." – Antonio Porchia), novelty beads (this gif)
Word Count: 3060.
Rating: PG.
Summary: Summer needs somebody, or, sometimes relationships just don't work out.
Warnings: Danny threatens a guy.
Notes: aaand I have triumphed over Zing! Also, find the 1776 reference and get a drabble of your choice.
The hotel was lonely, almost clinical in decoration, the room much too big for Summer and her little overnight bag. She set it down in the corner, looked at the room, then moved it out of the way and sat down in the corner herself, her back to the room, her forehead against the wall.
It was easier when she couldn't see it.
Andrew had been so kind about everything. He'd asked if she had a friend she was going to, someone to stay with, and she hadn't wanted to stay in that apartment one minute longer so she'd lied and said of course, of course she did. She didn't think he'd believed her, but maybe he never really had, and he'd let her go anyway—that was the point.
She put her hands over her face. God, she was so alone. She had lied, after all—she knew no one in DC besides Andrew, or not well enough to ask for comfort. Her family was all in New York, four hours away at the best of times, and it was late—her brother and sister might have been awake ten years ago, but now they had children, and they went to bed early. She could hardly call them now, let alone go up there herself and drag them out of bed.
No. She had to handle this by herself. She had to be calm, and strong, and she had to not cry. She had to be an adult about all this—hadn't that been one of Connor's complaints about her, that she was too childish and strange? Andrew hadn't said the same, but he probably believed it. Everyone did, except her family.
Ten-thirty. Andrew had taken her out to dinner at six, and they'd finished eating at eight, and over dessert he had gently told her that it wasn't working out and they should probably see other people.
What was she supposed to say to that? She had no scripts for the situation, no words. When Connor had left her she hadn't said anything, only let him talk and then walked away. But she was living with Andrew; she thought everything was fine and maybe that they would get married when she was finished with her residency. To learn that it was Not Fine, not only that it was Not Fine but that he didn't even want her around him anymore—
He'd taken her home at nine, and she had not cried, only packed up a small bag and assured him that of course she had a place to go and she'd come pick up the rest of her things in the morning, and she'd left at ten.
The taxi driver had brought her here. She'd only asked for a hotel; he'd taken her to a nice one, a safe one. The concierge had been very kind, and very efficient. But they weren't her family.
She wanted her family, so badly. She wanted Ivy, who would tell her she was perfect and threaten to beat up Andrew. She wanted Gina, who would stroke her hair and give her words, things to say. She wanted Aaron, who would listen, and tell her she had done nothing wrong.
She wanted Lars, who would hug her and let her cry and never tell her not to be sad.
Eleven o'clock.
Maybe Lars was still awake.
--
Lars was finishing up a project when the phone rang.
He flinched, and scrabbled in his papers until he found it. The last phone call in the middle of the night had been Chrissy in the hospital with postpartum hemorrhaging and nobody knew if she was going to be okay. A glance at the caller ID did not reassure him at all, because Summer had a very strict rule about calling people after nine PM, which was to say that she did not do it, unless it was an emergency. He snatched the phone and fumbled, answering the call.
"Summer?" he asked. "You okay, baby?"
"Um," she said, and oh, shit, he could hear the tears in her voice. "No. I'm in a hotel, I... Andrew broke up with me."
Andrew. That self-involved, self-important, boring, narcissistic fuck. "Oh, Summer," he said, and shut his laptop. "Do you need somebody?"
She sniffled, and Lars added a few more insults to his litany. "I don't want to be a bother," she said, her voice small. "I just... don't feel very... adults don't need hugs."
He didn't snort, but only because Summer wouldn't take that well. "Yes, we do," he said. "I hug Danny when she's sad all the time. Ivy and Gina hug each other when they're sad, and Aaron and Clara. Just because you're a grownup now—" and wasn't that weird; he still thought of her as eleven— "doesn't mean you don't still need comfort sometimes."
"I don't want to be a bother," she repeated, but her voice was wobbling. "I just don't know what to do. I thought maybe..."
Fuck this. "Well," he said, lightly, "turns out I need to be in DC tomorrow anyway. I was going to ask if I could crash in your apartment, but I suppose I'll be crashing in your hotel room instead. Is that all right, sweetheart? I could help you move." He wasn't sure how wise it was, dredging up all the practical things that had to be done, but Summer liked practical; maybe it would steady her.
It sounded as if it did, anyway. "All right. If you're sure. I just don't know... what to do."
"Of course I'm sure, Summerchild," he said, and blew a quick kiss to the speaker. "As for what to do... right now, can you do me a favor and try to sleep? I'll be there in the morning, but if you sleep, it might help."
"I'll try," she said. She sounded a little doubtful, but she had said it.
They talked a little more, but Summer was clearly uncomfortable with it, and she gave him the name of her hotel and made her goodbyes soon enough. He hung up with extreme reluctance, then went back into his bedroom and poked Danny. "Wake up, honey, we're going to D.C."
Danny stirred, and rolled over to glare at him, slitted blue eyes through a fringe of blonde hair. "Like hell I am. What for?"
Lars put his cell phone down on the bed with exaggerated care. "Summer just called me," he said, as evenly as he could manage. "She was in tears. Her boyfriend broke up with her, kicked her out of the apartment, and she's in a hotel for the night."
"Well, fuck." Danny sat up, ran a hand through her hair to comb it away from her face. "You get some pants on, I'll call Ivy and Aaron. Let's get this show on the road."
--
Someone was poking her. Danny considered lashing out, since it was the second fucking time this night, but the rumbling road noise reminded her that she was in the van and Lars probably needed her help navigating. "What? What is it?"
"We're here," he said. "Hotel's in about two blocks."
Danny squinted at the dashboard clock—three AM? "What the hell, did you speed the whole way here?"
"When's the last time Summer called after nine?" he asked, instead of answering.
Danny rolled her eyes, but she couldn't exactly argue with that, so she settled back in the seat and kicked her feet up on the dashboard. "So, what, you lost?"
"I told you," he said. "The hotel's on the right here."
She raised her eyebrows as he swung into the hotel's underground garage. First time she'd ever driven with Lars that he didn't get lost. "Oh-kay. Well. I guess we get a room, wait for morning?"
He shook his head, but didn't speak until he'd parked the van. "I'm going to go straight up. You mind grabbing us a room? Either Summer'll be awake or she won't, either way she won't mind if I knock."
Danny considered reminding Lars that Summer was twenty-seven, not twelve, but it wouldn't do any good and Summer probably needed him anyway. "Okay, go on, I'll get this fixed. What number's her room? I'll come find you."
He was half out of the car already but he threw it over his shoulder. She rolled her eyes again, but went and got the damn room from a clearly bored employee who would probably rather be in bed. The room was more expensive than she was really comfortable with, but whatever, this was Summer, they'd already spent a lot in gas anyway. If it looked like they were going to stay longer, they could switch to a cheaper hotel.
She was deeply tempted to leave Lars' bag in the van, but good partners didn't do that to each other, so she hauled it up anyway and went to collect her boyfriend. Summer was almost certainly asleep—it was three-thirty in the morning, for God's sake, and Summer had rules about bedtime that were almost as strict as her rules about when one called people—so he was probably hanging out in front of her door, waiting for Danny and looking like a creeper. Bless.
But the hallway was empty. Danny looked both ways, in the faint hope that maybe Lars had just blended into the carpet, then knocked on the door to Summer's room, tentatively. If she wasn't asleep... well.
That was not good. Not at all.
--
She cried when she saw Lars. She couldn't help it.
"Oh, Summerchild," he said, and reached out, gathered her up against him like she was a little girl again and not an adult. She felt vaguely that she ought to mind, but it was Lars and he was here and she felt so awful.
She didn't cry very much, though. Not like she had when she was a child, unable to control herself. She could cry a little bit now and then pull back, sniffling, when someone else knocked.
"Danny," Lars said, and got up to let her in.
Danny looked tousled, and tired, and maybe worried—Summer lost track of social cues a bit, when she was upset, but she'd known Danny long enough to guess. "I got us a room," she said, and sat down next to Summer, when Lars sat down on her other side. "We're here for you, babe."
"It isn't that bad," Summer said, but she didn't really believe herself.
Danny twisted her mouth and Summer thought maybe she didn't believe it either. "Okay," she said, and then, "Ivy and Gina are coming down tomorrow, or I guess today." She reached out and combed her fingers through the hair at Summer's temple. Summer leaned into the touch with a faint sigh. "Aaron said to tell you that he's so sorry, but he can't come down here."
"Of course not," Summer said. "He has to teach." To be perfectly honest, she was surprised that her sister had made the time. And for Gina to come down too...
"Yeah," Danny said. "He has to teach. But he's taking Andy and Leah so there's that. He also said he'd get in touch with your parents and see if they're around."
Summer sat up at that. "Oh, no, don't bother them," she said, really distressed. "It isn't... I'm okay, I mean, I will be okay, it isn't that bad. It's only a breakup."
Danny and Lars exchanged a glance, then Lars said, carefully, "Sweetie, do you remember when Aaron and Simon broke up? How bad that was for both of them?"
She did remember. Aaron had been sad for months. "Yes," she said, rather doubtfully.
"Right, well," he said. "Your parents, and Aaron's mom, they spent a lot of time cheering him up because they cared about him. We care about you."
"Yeah," Danny added, "which is why I'm gonna pummel this ex of yours. Nobody breaks your heart and gets away with it."
Summer put a hand over her heart at the word, then took it away, embarrassed. "No, don't. It isn't his fault, he just couldn't—it was me, I'm just strange, I—" She stopped, because even upset and tired she could recognize the very slightly murderous expressions on Lars and Danny's faces.
"Yeah," Danny said, after an uncomfortable silence. "Pummelling."
"Please don't," Summer said, and she must have sounded as upset as she was because Danny relented.
"All right, babe, I won't." She ruffled Summer's hair, and patted her shoulder the way Danny did when she didn't want to invade Summer's space. "But I'll think about it."
"If you want," Summer said, again doubtfully, and blinked when somehow that made both of them laugh.
--
The doorbell rang at seven-thirty in the morning.
Andrew Gravenor had only just gotten his coffee, and he looked at the clock with a surprised blink. Probably Summer, here to get her things; she always had been an unconscionably early riser. Probably for the best. The sooner they made a clean break, the sooner he could forget her stricken face, the easier it would be for both of them. He got up from the kitchen table and went to open the door.
It wasn't Summer, though; it was a whip-thin woman with a tousled cap of blonde hair and a wiry man about Andrew's height with a geeky cast to his face. Both of them wore narrowed eyes, and the wiry man scowled when he saw Andrew's face.
"Can I... help you?" he asked, suddenly concerned.
"Yeah, move your ass," the blonde woman said, and shouldered her way past him when he didn't. "Christ, this is a depressing building. Who picked it out, you?"
"Definitely him," the man said. Andrew managed to get out of his way in time, and from the way his scowl deepened he was a little annoyed about that. "This isn't Summer's style."
Okay. Friends of Summer's, maybe the people she'd gone to last night. Andrew hadn't really believed they existed, but he hadn't been about to stop her, not when she'd been so upset—at least she really had had someone. "Are you here to get Summer's things?" he asked. "I collected her clothes, they're in that box..."
"No," the blonde woman said, "and shut up."
The wiry man smiled a little, though he was looking at the blonde woman when he did, and went over to the cardboard box Andrew had filled with Summer's clothes. "Yes," he said. "We're getting her things. Is that seriously it or are you stealing her stuff?"
Andrew crossed his arms, to hide the hurt. "I won't be spoken to like that," he snapped. "I wouldn't steal from Summer."
The blonde woman snorted. "You should be grateful it's just us," she said. "Ivy would probably shank you."
"And you weren't planning on it?" the wiry man retorted, picking up the box.
"Promised Summer I wouldn't, you heard me." She eyed Andrew with a sneer. "Hear that? Summer still likes you. God knows why."
Andrew narrowed his eyes. This was not at all what he'd expected from Summer, who was generally fair-minded and always very kind. "I don't know what she told you—"
"Nothing," the wiry man said, "except that you kicked her out of her own home at ten at night." He stared at Andrew over the box. "Dick move."
The blonde woman, who'd been wandering around the coffee table, picking up books and little pieces of jewelry, nodded. "Definitely a dick move. He should know, he made Summer cry."
"For Christ's sake, Danny!" the wiry man snapped. "That was thirteen years ago. Let it go."
Danny, oh, this was the Navy girl, which meant that the wiry man was Lars. Summer didn't talk much about her family, but she'd talked about him a lot. Andrew pressed his lips together. "I'm sure you're very close to Summer," he said. "I'm sure you're very worried about her. So am I."
"Sure you are," Danny said. "And you didn't let her stay here last night because..."
For crying out loud. "She wanted to leave," he said, evenly. "I didn't kick her out." In fact, he'd intended to give Summer the bed and sleep on the couch, maybe even stay with some friends until she found a new place, but she'd insisted on leaving. "I'm glad to hear she's safe."
Lars stared at him more, his eyebrows diving steep downwards. "You know," he remarked, "I believe you are. Why'd you dump her?"
He was not having this conversation. "It wasn't working out," Andrew said. "It was for the best. She's a sweet girl, but—"
Danny snorted loudly enough to distract him, and he rounded on her. "Look, it wasn't working. What did you want me to do, string her along? I did what I thought was the best thing for both of us and I'm not sorry."
"Yeah, sorry about her," Lars said, and Andrew switched back to him, startled. The other man lifted his eyebrows and gave a little, rather rueful smile. "I don't know if Summer ever mentioned Connor to you?"
"No," Andrew said. Who the hell was Connor?
"Not surprising, she doesn't like to think about him," Lars said. "Let's just say that he's the reason we're twitchy about Summer's exes."
"I don't mean her any harm," Andrew said, wondering why he was explaining himself. These people didn't deserve anything, but... well, they were obviously worried about Summer. And so was he, to be honest. "I still care about her. I just don't..." Love her anymore. He was not saying that. "I didn't see a future, and I didn't want to hurt her more than I had to."
Lars nodded. "Yeah, I think you're okay."
"For someone who dumped Summer," Danny muttered, quietly enough that Andrew could pretend he hadn't heard.
Lars ignored her too. "Look, we got her, okay? You just... leave her alone, it'll be easier."
"All right." Andrew stood for a moment, hands at his side, watching Lars trail Danny around his apartment while she dumped Summer's things into the box, and then blurted, "Is she going to be all right?"
Lars did him the courtesy of thinking about it. "Yes," he said, finally. "Eventually. Now that we're here."
"Okay," Andrew said, and let the rest go.
Title: Lonely
Story: In the Heart.
Colors: True blue 10 (I was up all night with a sick friend.), zing 10 (bring a friend, if you have one) with shadowsong's paint-by-numbers (And also a bottle of wine. Please?)
Supplies and Materials: Frame, stained glass, glitter ("Man, when he does not grieve, hardly exists." – Antonio Porchia), novelty beads (this gif)
Word Count: 3060.
Rating: PG.
Summary: Summer needs somebody, or, sometimes relationships just don't work out.
Warnings: Danny threatens a guy.
Notes: aaand I have triumphed over Zing! Also, find the 1776 reference and get a drabble of your choice.
The hotel was lonely, almost clinical in decoration, the room much too big for Summer and her little overnight bag. She set it down in the corner, looked at the room, then moved it out of the way and sat down in the corner herself, her back to the room, her forehead against the wall.
It was easier when she couldn't see it.
Andrew had been so kind about everything. He'd asked if she had a friend she was going to, someone to stay with, and she hadn't wanted to stay in that apartment one minute longer so she'd lied and said of course, of course she did. She didn't think he'd believed her, but maybe he never really had, and he'd let her go anyway—that was the point.
She put her hands over her face. God, she was so alone. She had lied, after all—she knew no one in DC besides Andrew, or not well enough to ask for comfort. Her family was all in New York, four hours away at the best of times, and it was late—her brother and sister might have been awake ten years ago, but now they had children, and they went to bed early. She could hardly call them now, let alone go up there herself and drag them out of bed.
No. She had to handle this by herself. She had to be calm, and strong, and she had to not cry. She had to be an adult about all this—hadn't that been one of Connor's complaints about her, that she was too childish and strange? Andrew hadn't said the same, but he probably believed it. Everyone did, except her family.
Ten-thirty. Andrew had taken her out to dinner at six, and they'd finished eating at eight, and over dessert he had gently told her that it wasn't working out and they should probably see other people.
What was she supposed to say to that? She had no scripts for the situation, no words. When Connor had left her she hadn't said anything, only let him talk and then walked away. But she was living with Andrew; she thought everything was fine and maybe that they would get married when she was finished with her residency. To learn that it was Not Fine, not only that it was Not Fine but that he didn't even want her around him anymore—
He'd taken her home at nine, and she had not cried, only packed up a small bag and assured him that of course she had a place to go and she'd come pick up the rest of her things in the morning, and she'd left at ten.
The taxi driver had brought her here. She'd only asked for a hotel; he'd taken her to a nice one, a safe one. The concierge had been very kind, and very efficient. But they weren't her family.
She wanted her family, so badly. She wanted Ivy, who would tell her she was perfect and threaten to beat up Andrew. She wanted Gina, who would stroke her hair and give her words, things to say. She wanted Aaron, who would listen, and tell her she had done nothing wrong.
She wanted Lars, who would hug her and let her cry and never tell her not to be sad.
Eleven o'clock.
Maybe Lars was still awake.
--
Lars was finishing up a project when the phone rang.
He flinched, and scrabbled in his papers until he found it. The last phone call in the middle of the night had been Chrissy in the hospital with postpartum hemorrhaging and nobody knew if she was going to be okay. A glance at the caller ID did not reassure him at all, because Summer had a very strict rule about calling people after nine PM, which was to say that she did not do it, unless it was an emergency. He snatched the phone and fumbled, answering the call.
"Summer?" he asked. "You okay, baby?"
"Um," she said, and oh, shit, he could hear the tears in her voice. "No. I'm in a hotel, I... Andrew broke up with me."
Andrew. That self-involved, self-important, boring, narcissistic fuck. "Oh, Summer," he said, and shut his laptop. "Do you need somebody?"
She sniffled, and Lars added a few more insults to his litany. "I don't want to be a bother," she said, her voice small. "I just... don't feel very... adults don't need hugs."
He didn't snort, but only because Summer wouldn't take that well. "Yes, we do," he said. "I hug Danny when she's sad all the time. Ivy and Gina hug each other when they're sad, and Aaron and Clara. Just because you're a grownup now—" and wasn't that weird; he still thought of her as eleven— "doesn't mean you don't still need comfort sometimes."
"I don't want to be a bother," she repeated, but her voice was wobbling. "I just don't know what to do. I thought maybe..."
Fuck this. "Well," he said, lightly, "turns out I need to be in DC tomorrow anyway. I was going to ask if I could crash in your apartment, but I suppose I'll be crashing in your hotel room instead. Is that all right, sweetheart? I could help you move." He wasn't sure how wise it was, dredging up all the practical things that had to be done, but Summer liked practical; maybe it would steady her.
It sounded as if it did, anyway. "All right. If you're sure. I just don't know... what to do."
"Of course I'm sure, Summerchild," he said, and blew a quick kiss to the speaker. "As for what to do... right now, can you do me a favor and try to sleep? I'll be there in the morning, but if you sleep, it might help."
"I'll try," she said. She sounded a little doubtful, but she had said it.
They talked a little more, but Summer was clearly uncomfortable with it, and she gave him the name of her hotel and made her goodbyes soon enough. He hung up with extreme reluctance, then went back into his bedroom and poked Danny. "Wake up, honey, we're going to D.C."
Danny stirred, and rolled over to glare at him, slitted blue eyes through a fringe of blonde hair. "Like hell I am. What for?"
Lars put his cell phone down on the bed with exaggerated care. "Summer just called me," he said, as evenly as he could manage. "She was in tears. Her boyfriend broke up with her, kicked her out of the apartment, and she's in a hotel for the night."
"Well, fuck." Danny sat up, ran a hand through her hair to comb it away from her face. "You get some pants on, I'll call Ivy and Aaron. Let's get this show on the road."
--
Someone was poking her. Danny considered lashing out, since it was the second fucking time this night, but the rumbling road noise reminded her that she was in the van and Lars probably needed her help navigating. "What? What is it?"
"We're here," he said. "Hotel's in about two blocks."
Danny squinted at the dashboard clock—three AM? "What the hell, did you speed the whole way here?"
"When's the last time Summer called after nine?" he asked, instead of answering.
Danny rolled her eyes, but she couldn't exactly argue with that, so she settled back in the seat and kicked her feet up on the dashboard. "So, what, you lost?"
"I told you," he said. "The hotel's on the right here."
She raised her eyebrows as he swung into the hotel's underground garage. First time she'd ever driven with Lars that he didn't get lost. "Oh-kay. Well. I guess we get a room, wait for morning?"
He shook his head, but didn't speak until he'd parked the van. "I'm going to go straight up. You mind grabbing us a room? Either Summer'll be awake or she won't, either way she won't mind if I knock."
Danny considered reminding Lars that Summer was twenty-seven, not twelve, but it wouldn't do any good and Summer probably needed him anyway. "Okay, go on, I'll get this fixed. What number's her room? I'll come find you."
He was half out of the car already but he threw it over his shoulder. She rolled her eyes again, but went and got the damn room from a clearly bored employee who would probably rather be in bed. The room was more expensive than she was really comfortable with, but whatever, this was Summer, they'd already spent a lot in gas anyway. If it looked like they were going to stay longer, they could switch to a cheaper hotel.
She was deeply tempted to leave Lars' bag in the van, but good partners didn't do that to each other, so she hauled it up anyway and went to collect her boyfriend. Summer was almost certainly asleep—it was three-thirty in the morning, for God's sake, and Summer had rules about bedtime that were almost as strict as her rules about when one called people—so he was probably hanging out in front of her door, waiting for Danny and looking like a creeper. Bless.
But the hallway was empty. Danny looked both ways, in the faint hope that maybe Lars had just blended into the carpet, then knocked on the door to Summer's room, tentatively. If she wasn't asleep... well.
That was not good. Not at all.
--
She cried when she saw Lars. She couldn't help it.
"Oh, Summerchild," he said, and reached out, gathered her up against him like she was a little girl again and not an adult. She felt vaguely that she ought to mind, but it was Lars and he was here and she felt so awful.
She didn't cry very much, though. Not like she had when she was a child, unable to control herself. She could cry a little bit now and then pull back, sniffling, when someone else knocked.
"Danny," Lars said, and got up to let her in.
Danny looked tousled, and tired, and maybe worried—Summer lost track of social cues a bit, when she was upset, but she'd known Danny long enough to guess. "I got us a room," she said, and sat down next to Summer, when Lars sat down on her other side. "We're here for you, babe."
"It isn't that bad," Summer said, but she didn't really believe herself.
Danny twisted her mouth and Summer thought maybe she didn't believe it either. "Okay," she said, and then, "Ivy and Gina are coming down tomorrow, or I guess today." She reached out and combed her fingers through the hair at Summer's temple. Summer leaned into the touch with a faint sigh. "Aaron said to tell you that he's so sorry, but he can't come down here."
"Of course not," Summer said. "He has to teach." To be perfectly honest, she was surprised that her sister had made the time. And for Gina to come down too...
"Yeah," Danny said. "He has to teach. But he's taking Andy and Leah so there's that. He also said he'd get in touch with your parents and see if they're around."
Summer sat up at that. "Oh, no, don't bother them," she said, really distressed. "It isn't... I'm okay, I mean, I will be okay, it isn't that bad. It's only a breakup."
Danny and Lars exchanged a glance, then Lars said, carefully, "Sweetie, do you remember when Aaron and Simon broke up? How bad that was for both of them?"
She did remember. Aaron had been sad for months. "Yes," she said, rather doubtfully.
"Right, well," he said. "Your parents, and Aaron's mom, they spent a lot of time cheering him up because they cared about him. We care about you."
"Yeah," Danny added, "which is why I'm gonna pummel this ex of yours. Nobody breaks your heart and gets away with it."
Summer put a hand over her heart at the word, then took it away, embarrassed. "No, don't. It isn't his fault, he just couldn't—it was me, I'm just strange, I—" She stopped, because even upset and tired she could recognize the very slightly murderous expressions on Lars and Danny's faces.
"Yeah," Danny said, after an uncomfortable silence. "Pummelling."
"Please don't," Summer said, and she must have sounded as upset as she was because Danny relented.
"All right, babe, I won't." She ruffled Summer's hair, and patted her shoulder the way Danny did when she didn't want to invade Summer's space. "But I'll think about it."
"If you want," Summer said, again doubtfully, and blinked when somehow that made both of them laugh.
--
The doorbell rang at seven-thirty in the morning.
Andrew Gravenor had only just gotten his coffee, and he looked at the clock with a surprised blink. Probably Summer, here to get her things; she always had been an unconscionably early riser. Probably for the best. The sooner they made a clean break, the sooner he could forget her stricken face, the easier it would be for both of them. He got up from the kitchen table and went to open the door.
It wasn't Summer, though; it was a whip-thin woman with a tousled cap of blonde hair and a wiry man about Andrew's height with a geeky cast to his face. Both of them wore narrowed eyes, and the wiry man scowled when he saw Andrew's face.
"Can I... help you?" he asked, suddenly concerned.
"Yeah, move your ass," the blonde woman said, and shouldered her way past him when he didn't. "Christ, this is a depressing building. Who picked it out, you?"
"Definitely him," the man said. Andrew managed to get out of his way in time, and from the way his scowl deepened he was a little annoyed about that. "This isn't Summer's style."
Okay. Friends of Summer's, maybe the people she'd gone to last night. Andrew hadn't really believed they existed, but he hadn't been about to stop her, not when she'd been so upset—at least she really had had someone. "Are you here to get Summer's things?" he asked. "I collected her clothes, they're in that box..."
"No," the blonde woman said, "and shut up."
The wiry man smiled a little, though he was looking at the blonde woman when he did, and went over to the cardboard box Andrew had filled with Summer's clothes. "Yes," he said. "We're getting her things. Is that seriously it or are you stealing her stuff?"
Andrew crossed his arms, to hide the hurt. "I won't be spoken to like that," he snapped. "I wouldn't steal from Summer."
The blonde woman snorted. "You should be grateful it's just us," she said. "Ivy would probably shank you."
"And you weren't planning on it?" the wiry man retorted, picking up the box.
"Promised Summer I wouldn't, you heard me." She eyed Andrew with a sneer. "Hear that? Summer still likes you. God knows why."
Andrew narrowed his eyes. This was not at all what he'd expected from Summer, who was generally fair-minded and always very kind. "I don't know what she told you—"
"Nothing," the wiry man said, "except that you kicked her out of her own home at ten at night." He stared at Andrew over the box. "Dick move."
The blonde woman, who'd been wandering around the coffee table, picking up books and little pieces of jewelry, nodded. "Definitely a dick move. He should know, he made Summer cry."
"For Christ's sake, Danny!" the wiry man snapped. "That was thirteen years ago. Let it go."
Danny, oh, this was the Navy girl, which meant that the wiry man was Lars. Summer didn't talk much about her family, but she'd talked about him a lot. Andrew pressed his lips together. "I'm sure you're very close to Summer," he said. "I'm sure you're very worried about her. So am I."
"Sure you are," Danny said. "And you didn't let her stay here last night because..."
For crying out loud. "She wanted to leave," he said, evenly. "I didn't kick her out." In fact, he'd intended to give Summer the bed and sleep on the couch, maybe even stay with some friends until she found a new place, but she'd insisted on leaving. "I'm glad to hear she's safe."
Lars stared at him more, his eyebrows diving steep downwards. "You know," he remarked, "I believe you are. Why'd you dump her?"
He was not having this conversation. "It wasn't working out," Andrew said. "It was for the best. She's a sweet girl, but—"
Danny snorted loudly enough to distract him, and he rounded on her. "Look, it wasn't working. What did you want me to do, string her along? I did what I thought was the best thing for both of us and I'm not sorry."
"Yeah, sorry about her," Lars said, and Andrew switched back to him, startled. The other man lifted his eyebrows and gave a little, rather rueful smile. "I don't know if Summer ever mentioned Connor to you?"
"No," Andrew said. Who the hell was Connor?
"Not surprising, she doesn't like to think about him," Lars said. "Let's just say that he's the reason we're twitchy about Summer's exes."
"I don't mean her any harm," Andrew said, wondering why he was explaining himself. These people didn't deserve anything, but... well, they were obviously worried about Summer. And so was he, to be honest. "I still care about her. I just don't..." Love her anymore. He was not saying that. "I didn't see a future, and I didn't want to hurt her more than I had to."
Lars nodded. "Yeah, I think you're okay."
"For someone who dumped Summer," Danny muttered, quietly enough that Andrew could pretend he hadn't heard.
Lars ignored her too. "Look, we got her, okay? You just... leave her alone, it'll be easier."
"All right." Andrew stood for a moment, hands at his side, watching Lars trail Danny around his apartment while she dumped Summer's things into the box, and then blurted, "Is she going to be all right?"
Lars did him the courtesy of thinking about it. "Yes," he said, finally. "Eventually. Now that we're here."
"Okay," Andrew said, and let the rest go.