“I’m leaving for Tokyo on Tuesday for ten days. If you need anything while I’m gone, it’s best you call your mother.”

“Do you think you guys will be able to work things out?” I ask, as we turn into Wawa’s driveway, the Lincoln’s wipers swishing back and forth rhythmically.

“So, you are aware of what’s going on.” Dad’s hard, assessing gaze skims over the pavilion and outbuildings, dim in the evening’s gloominess, toward the small group of counselors in the field, kicking a soccer ball around, despite the drizzle.

I roll my eyes. “I am living in the same house, Dad. And I’m not six years old.”

He sighs. “She’ll come around.”

“Do you really think so?” I hesitate. “After what you did?”

His jaw tenses and I brace myself for a tongue-lashing. “No marriage is easy, Piper, and I am far from the first man to make a mistake. But this is not a topic I’m going to discuss with my daughter.” He adds in a more conciliatory tone, “She seems to be in better spirits since getting away from the city. She’s been out at the club every day, socializing. And I hear she’s on the tennis courts a lot. I think this time to herself will be helpful. It’ll give her some perspective. Remind her how good we have it. How my one mistake is not worth throwing the life we built together away.”

“I hope so.”

He reaches over to pat my knee just as the SUV eases to a stop next to Kyle’s Pinto. Just the sight of it—knowing Kyle is here—makes my heart skip.

“This was a nice surprise, Dad.” And it was, despite my reluctance at the beginning. I wrap my arms around his neck, inhaling his comforting cologne one more time—a scent that he’s worn for as long as I can remember, it’s now his signature. I wave the car catalogue in the air. “Should I call Greta with my choices?”

“Email her if you can, so it’s all written down. First thing Monday morning.”

I reach for the handle.

“Before you go, Piper . . .” His steely gaze shifts to Kyle’s car. “I don’t want you with that boy anymore.”

It takes me a moment to process his words, to be sure I heard them correctly. “What?”

“I agreed with your mother that you should experience a summer in a . . . modest environment, so you can see how others live and appreciate the privilege you’ve been afforded. Mainly so you don’t end up like your brother down the road, having this sudden crisis of conscience and throwing your life away.” He frowns. “But I won’t have my daughter getting mixed up with a boy like that.”

“You don’t even know him!”

“I know what I don’t approve of. And the boys I’d consider suitable for you wouldn’t be pawing you in public like that. Against a car that belongs in a junkyard, no less.”

“He wasn’t . . . That was a joke.” I feel my cheeks flush, from a combination of anger and embarrassment. Worse, Eddie is listening.

“I didn’t find it funny.”

“You weren’t supposed to see it,” I mutter under my breath.

“You can talk to him, of course. You’re working together for the summer, so it’s not like you can avoid him. But leave it at that.”

I shake my head, my fury rising. My dad’s never made a demand like this. Then again, my circle of friends and male interests has always been associated with Breyers Collegiate and the families that can afford to go there. He approved of Trevor before he ever met him, namely because Trevor’s father is a high-profile civil lawyer.

If he knew what Kyle’s father did for “a living,” we’d likely already be on our way home.

I try another angle. “I really like him, and Mom’s okay with him.”

“She won’t be after I speak with her.”

“Dad!”

“I’m not going to say it again. Do you understand me, Piper?”

And there it is. Kieran Calloway issuing an edict in his calm, cool voice. There’s no swaying him when he gets like this. And he expects me to adhere because I always have. No one defies Kieran Calloway, especially not his children.

Tears of frustration prick my eyes. I shove open the door and climb out, into the drizzle.

“Piper.” I hear the warning in his steely voice.

“Fine. Whatever.”

He sighs heavily, as if I’m being the unreasonable one.

A sudden wave of rebellion inflames me. “Just so you know . . . your perfect Trevor Reilly spiked my Coke to get me drunk so he could try to screw me.” I slam the door with force and storm off, the cool rain against my face a soothing balm to my anger.

I spot Kyle at the far end of the field, shirtless and deftly maneuvering around another player with the soccer ball to take a shot at the goal. It sails into the top left corner, earning a round of cheers from his teammates.

My anger at my father only intensifies.

I glance over my shoulder to see the SUV’s brake lights as it eases around the bend in the road, and then out of sight. He didn’t even bother to linger, to see how I’d handle Kyle.

He assumes I’ll listen.

I always have.

“Hey, Richie Rich!” Eric calls out from his place in net, his blond curls flattened, his T-shirt sitting in a wet heap by the goalpost, to show off a lanky, sunburned torso. “So, is that, like, how your dad rolls all the time?”

“A lot. Yeah.” And for possibly the first time in my life, I’m embarrassed by that.

“Oh.” Eric shrugs. “Cool.”

A cheer carries from the other end, and Eric’s arms are in the air. “Nice! Your boy’s on fire!”

Kyle is high-fiving another guy when he notices me there. He waves and, brushing his damp hair back with his hand, begins jogging my way, his lean body rippled with muscle.

My boy. That’s right. He’s mine. And no one—especially not my dad—is going to decide otherwise.

Normally, I hate the discomfort that comes with rain—clingy clothes and strands of hair stuck to my face. Now, though, I’m too mad at my father and emboldened by my feelings for Kyle to care.

With a determined smile, I take off running across the field, intercepting the soccer ball meant for the center line, to throw myself into Kyle, knocking us both to the soggy grass.

“What are we doing tonight?” I ask, through our laughs.

“I don’t know. Hanging out? It’s supposed to rain all night. They’re talking about setting up the movie screen in the rec hall.” He shifts onto his side, propping himself on his elbow to peer down at me, shielding my face. “How was dinner?”

I roll my eyes. “Fine.”

“Yeah?” His finger trails my collarbone. “What’d your dad say about me?”

“That you seem nice.”

He gives me a doubtful look. “He doesn’t want you near me, does he?” I see a mix of resignation and disappointment in his eyes.

“He doesn’t want me with anyone he hasn’t chosen.” I hook my wrists around the back of Kyle’s neck. “But it doesn’t matter what he wants. It matters what I want. And I want you.”

“Yeah?” He smiles thoughtfully. “How much?”