Free Scared of Forever (Scared #2) by Jacqueline Abrahams Page A

all that long.”
    “Not at all,” I say
sincerely. Fact is, I feel more comfortable and safer in Tyler’s
company than I did with Blake last night.
    I roll the window down
and inhale the salty ocean air that wafts in. Leaning forward to look
past Tyler, I see, between the tall oak trees that flank the road,
the vast, sapphire blue sea. The sun has even decided to make an
appearance from beyond the grey, ominous clouds.
    “Wow,” I breathe.
    “Welcome to the
Hamptons,” Tyler says jovially.
    “I thought you hated
all things high society, and you decide to bring me to the summer
playground of New York’s rich and famous?” I question, confused.
    “We’re not going to
hang out with the rich and famous. Besides, it isn’t society
season. The only people here now are those who actually live here,”
he explains.
    We continue to drive,
beyond the sprawling mansions with their impossibly green lawns,
perfectly manicured and lined with tall evergreen fir trees.
    “That’s Eliza’s
summer house,” Tyler says, pointing to a majestic stone mansion
nestled between two long stretches of sand, and backing directly onto
the white sandy beach.
    “Holy shit!” I
exclaim. “I think that place is bigger than my whole home town!”
    Tyler just laughs. “I
take it you’ve never been inside it then. It’s full of space and
echoes.”
    We drive right past it,
until the road becomes narrower and declines steeply, the Jeep’s
tires picking up the rocks and sand from the dirt track and flinging
them backwards relentlessly. Tyler handles the car amazingly well,
navigating and steering carefully over the now very thin road until
we arrive at a much smaller, yet still expansive, weatherboard
cottage. The white framed windows look positively striking against
the dark beige paint of the exterior. A picketed wraparound balcony
encases the obviously abandoned house.
    “We’re here,”
Tyler says happily. He parks the car and hops quickly from his seat,
jogging around to open my door.
    I take a step out and
stare in awe at the sight before me. The beach stretches out for
miles. Immediately ahead, a makeshift fence has been created between
the house and the sand from old pieces of hardwood, pickets and thin
wire. The sun casts a luminous sparkle against the rising tide.
    Just as I’m turning
my attention to Tyler, my phone vibrates in my jeans.
    I pull it from the tight pocket and
flick on the screen. It’s a message from Blake.
    Hi baby, what are you doing?
    I look up towards Tyler. The truth
would go something like, I just
went on a two hour drive with your brother, who you hate, alone. And
now we’re standing, still alone, on a deserted beach in the
Hamptons . Considering that this is completely innocent,
but will obviously not be perceived as such, I type back a lie. The
first one I have ever told Blake.
    Just out shopping. What time will you be home?
    The reply comes in seconds later.
    Late today. There’s more than enough cash in your account. Have
fun. PS, I wish I was at home with you. Love you.
    I sigh and dim the LED
screen on the phone. I don’t reply to the last message.
    “Everything okay?”
Tyler asks, lugging a huge picnic blanket from the Jeep’s trunk.
    “Fine,” I say with
a smile. “You do realize the sand is wet, right?”
    “I know,” he says,
before walking over to the old house and climbing the rickety stairs
to the porch.
    “Isn’t this
considered trespassing?” I ask suspiciously, grabbing the bag and
thermos and following behind him.
    “Not at all. My
family owns this place, too, except that the only person who ever
comes here is me. It was my grandfather’s place. My mother’s
childhood home,” Tyler explains. “I used to sneak over here when
we came up for the summer as a kid. And eventually, every time I
needed to get away, it became my thing. My place.”
    I thought Eliza Carson
grew up in a boarding school, owing to her severe an uncaring
demeanor. I never once imagined that her