Love Always, Bailey

By Samantha Cooke

It’s been seven months since Morgan has heard from Bailey, not since a fight on New Year’s Eve that may have ended their friendship forever. To figure out what went wrong, Morgan has some serious retracing to do, starting with a five-day stay at the beach house that started it all.
Morgan reunites with her friend group at The Highview, an oceanfront house where they’ve spent every summer since they were kids. There’s Noah, who hopes that his friends trust one of his plans one final time. Ethan, who mourns the loss of the girl he loved and never got to tell. Allie’s anger overpowers her desire to heal. And Ryder still holds out for one final game of Rock Paper Scissors with Morgan, hoping it can spark their once-picture-perfect love story.
Over the course of five days, the friends learn their friendship has changed, and they can no longer take for granted the closeness they once shared. Instead, they must learn to love and grieve simultaneously.

• Language: English
• Publisher: World Castle Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Nov 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798891260962

Samantha Cooke

Samantha Cooke is a Florida native who writes stories close to her beachside roots. As a playwright, her work has appeared on stage at The Orlando International Fringe Festival, The University of Central Florida, and Rocky Mountain Theatre for Kids (Denver, CO). Her fiction has been published in various online journals. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing for Young Adults from The Solstice MFA Program. She now lives in the seaside town of Winthrop, MA, where she works as a communications manager for KIPP Massachusetts Public Charter Schools.

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Love Always, Bailey

by

Samantha Cooke

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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World Castle Publishing, LLC

Pensacola, Florida

Copyright © 2023 Samantha Cooke

Smashwords Edition

Paperback ISBN: 9798891260955

eBook ISBN: 9798891260962

First Edition World Castle Publishing, LLC, November 13, 2023

http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com

Smashwords Licensing Notes

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

Editor: Karen Fuller

Chapter 1

Present

Me, 9:15 a.m.: You’re coming, right, Bails?

Me, 9:17 a.m.: Please tell me you’re riding with us.

It had been seven months since I last heard from my best friend, Bailey.

That was all I could think as I glanced into my duffel bag one final time, making sure I had packed enough bathing suits and sunscreen to last the week.

Morgan, Noah’s here! my mom yelled from where she stood out on the front deck.

My bag weighed heavily on my shoulder as I walked out of my bedroom and down the hall to the front door. The screen door closed slowly behind me with a groan, the sound of my childhood home doing its best.

I heard my cousin’s blue Honda before I saw it. Noah had the windows down and the stereo turned up, blasting a top-forty radio station. He climbed out of the driver’s seat and ran up to the porch to meet me, reaching for my duffel bag with a smile. Earlier that morning, he had texted me one simple line: Remember the plan.

Are you sure you’re ready for this? my mom asked. There’s no rush to get back to school. She placed her hands on my shoulders and stared at me, the wrinkles around her eyes defined as worry washed over her face.

I instantly felt guilty.

It’s just a week, Noah chimed in. Plus, the professor leading the class is one of my favorites.

He must have thought I was going to blow our story.

Well, take care of each other, my mom said.

She looked at the car and waved to Ethan, who sat in the passenger seat. He smiled and waved back, which my mom took as an invitation to walk over and chat.

Once she was out of earshot, Noah nodded to me. Good job.

I hate lying to my mom.

He smiled and placed his hand on my forearm. The guilt will go away as soon as we’re at The Highview.

He walked down the porch steps with my duffel bag slung over his shoulder and out to his SUV. He threw the bag in the trunk and sat in the driver’s seat. My mom waved goodbye to Ethan and Noah and met me on the walkway.

I think this will be good for you. She brushed a strand of straight brown hair behind my ear and placed her hand against my cheek. Then she wrapped me in a hug, and I took a deep breath, exhaling against her neck. When I pulled away, she had tears in her eyes.

Mom, it’s just a week. I tried my best to give her an encouraging smile, but all I could think about was the lie that lingered over me.

She nodded, and I took that as my cue to get in the car as fast as I could.

I’ll call your dad and tell him you’re heading out, my mom yelled to Noah.

Nah, I’ll just text him, Noah answered quickly.

All right, well, not while you’re driving. And be safe. I know you think you’re adults now because you’ve gotten a year of college under your belt, but—

Noah assured my mom we’d be just fine and spoke of the imaginary classes he swore we were enrolled in. An extended semester, he had told his dad. Morgan should do it too, he’d suggested to my mom. It was a simple lie to get us where we really wanted to be: toes covered with sand, hair dried with salt. We wanted The Highview, and if we had to lie to get there, so be it.

The Highview was where we had grown up. Uncle Daniel had bought the house when we were kids, and Noah and I had shadowed him throughout the summer as he renovated it, adding a deck that led straight to the beach and a spiral staircase that led up to the top of the house. The Highview was ours, and though a rotation of strangers vacationed in it most of the year, it had always felt like home.

I got into the back seat behind Ethan, who was scrolling through a playlist of songs. He kept his eyes on his phone for a brief second before turning around in his seat to look at me. He had cut his blond hair, and his sunglasses had left a tan line around his blue eyes. In many ways, he still looked like the seventh-grade boy who had been Noah’s first friend in middle school, but something seemed different about him. I just couldn’t tell what.

Hi, Morg.

Hey.

Noah pulled out of the driveway and drove down my street. When he turned left at the stop sign, his eyes caught mine in the rearview mirror.

You really didn’t tell your dad we were going to The Highview? I asked.

Noah shook his head. No way.

Today’s journey had started back in May with a simple text message from Noah. Meet at The Highview, July 1. The text message had gone unanswered in the group thread, and the lack of response had made me sick with the belief that they were all texting without me.

As Noah drove down my street and turned toward the interstate, I thought of the last night he had visited me before sending the text. I had been sitting in the living room, empty cans of Diet Dr. Pepper littered around me, and the television turned to some new reality show about friends with a marriage pact.

Will they end up together? Noah had asked as he leaned back against the couch cushions.

Hard to tell, but I’m rooting for them.

Well, I hate to be the one to ruin your good time, but I have bad news. Noah handed me his phone. On screen was a website with a list of houses for sale. I noticed what he was trying to show me instantly.

The Highview.

What the hell? He’s selling the house?

My dad thinks it will sell by the end of summer, so we aren’t going in July. Noah shook his head. But I have a plan. He looked around the living room to make sure my mom wasn’t around, then leaned closer to me.

University of Central Florida offers mini semesters in the summer. We can tell our parents we’re all taking summer classes. We’ll tell your mom that you’re going to try UCF out to see what you think. Then we’ll go to The Highview. All of us.

Bailey, too? I asked.

Noah looked at me. We can make it all right, Morgan.

Last night, Noah had texted me again to confirm he would pick me up in the morning and to remind me for the tenth time not to tell my mom the truth.

Now, we blazed forward to The Highview, three hours away in Englewood Beach, in Noah’s SUV. My anxiety settled as the excitement hit me. I would see Bailey today. We would have a chance to make it right.

In the front seat, Ethan rambled on to Noah about a class they had both taken last semester.

I can’t believe you passed, Noah said. You did none of the reading.

Ethan shrugged. I’m made for college, man.

Noah turned and glared at him, and Ethan shook his head. Oh, damn. I’m sorry, Morgan. He flashed me the same pitying smile everyone gave me.

It’s all good. A lot of people take a semester off.

That’s true, Noah said.

But, hey, Ethan said, this extended semester could really be a game changer, huh? He put air quotes around extended semester, and Noah laughed.

I chose to focus on the music that was playing, the only thing that felt normal about our trip this morning.

~*~

The Highview looked the same as always: The beautifully landscaped yard lined with seashells plucked straight from the beach. The gravel walkway leading to a large staircase and wrap-around deck. The red front door framed by potted plants, which somehow drew attention away from the bright orange staircase at the front of the house that led up to the house’s top deck. The top deck gave a full view of the entire backyard beach. We could see the sand and ocean go on for miles from up there, and each night, the top deck would be waiting for us at sunset.

Us.

I thought it with such ease as if I would walk through the front door, and everything would be back to normal: Uncle Daniel asleep on the couch, a bowl of melted ice cream on the coffee table. Noah constantly checking the forecast. Ethan fighting to figure out the smart TV. Allie pulling at strands of her perfect blonde hair in the hallway mirror. Ryder watching clips of the Miami Dolphins at training camp. And Bailey—her long legs stretched out and a book in her hands.

Us.

It was such a small word. Yet, in this case, it carried so much weight that if a hurricane the year before hadn’t already knocked down the huge palm tree in the back, me walking through the front door right now and saying, The deck is ready for us tonight, would have.

It wasn’t until Noah turned off the car that I noticed it: planted directly in front of the house was a For Sale sign bearing a few obnoxious lines of catchy slogans, such as Ready for some fun under the sun? and A flip-flop’s throw to the beach! and my personal favorite, It’s sun o’clock somewhere. The specifics of the house were plastered on the sign as well: Open concept! Three bedrooms! New roof!

You should see the pictures my dad took to give to the realtor, Noah said.

We all got out of the car and stood in the driveway.

We’re in deep shit if anything happens to the house while we’re here, Noah added.

Ethan opened the trunk and pulled out our bags. Don’t worry, dude. We’ll keep destruction to a minimum.

Memories of previous summers flashed through my mind, all decorated with images of us growing up. We had experienced so much in that house, from first loves to first losses, and being back felt like we had unlocked a time capsule.

Ethan stared up at the house. Noah walked over to him and patted his shoulder. Noah said something, and Ethan cracked a smile before nodding.

My stomach hurt. My heart sank. I was home, and it was familiar, but at the same time, it was so far away. I couldn’t explain the feeling, but it was almost like The Highview didn’t want us there.

Noah took out his copy of the key and unlocked the door. The three of us barreled inside as though racing to find which room we wanted to sleep in, even though it was an unspoken rule that the sleeping arrangements never changed. Three extra keys sat on the kitchen counter. Ethan picked one up and attached it to his keyring. Beside it, right next to his car key and apartment key, hung a frayed and weathered pink string.

Bailey’s anklet from last summer.

Ethan opened the sliding glass door that faced the beach, letting the breeze flow inside. Other families in the houses around us were already staking claim to the sand, reapplying sunblock, and drinking from cold water bottles pulled from coolers. The back deck that led to the beach still had five chairs on it, forming a circle. It was as if we’d never left.

Ethan walked down the hall and opened the door to the room he, Noah, and Ryder always shared. Noah picked up my bag and followed, stopping one door earlier, where Bailey, Allie, and I always slept. Part of me wondered if they were already here, fighting over who had to sleep on the top bunk. Another part of me wasn’t surprised to find the bedroom empty when I walked in.

One twin bed was pressed against the wall opposite the bunk bed. The closet, once used to hide a stolen six pack of beer, was closed. A flat-screen television that we never turned on sat in one corner, next to a lamp with a light bulb that had been broken since I could remember. The window, cracked open despite the heat, soaked up sunlight and air.

I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until Noah spoke. I’ll leave you to unpack.

The familiarity of the room stirred my thoughts. In the last year, a handful of strangers had slept there. Bodies drained from the sun curled up underneath soft blankets, laughter filling the space between here and the living room, the smell of burnt toast wafting from the kitchen in the morning. These lives intersected, yet they didn’t even know it.

By the time I was done unpacking, Ethan had changed into running sneakers and shorts, slipped in his earbuds, and walked out the sliding glass door. Noah and I watched from the top deck as he broke into a jog down the beach and, with every pounding footstep on the sand, disappeared farther into the setting sun. Noah had brought up his portable speaker and was playing a shuffled playlist of all our favorite summer songs from over the years. A cover of The Boys of Summer by The Ataris was playing now, the only cover song Uncle Daniel had told us could hold a flame to the original.

Morgan, Noah said suddenly, Ryder texted me today. He’s coming.

I thought back to that simple text message that Noah had sent. Meet at The Highview, July 1.

Though no one had responded in the group thread, Noah had assured me we were still on. He had told me he would pick me up with Ethan and dodged my questions when I asked why he hadn’t included Bailey in the original text.

No one ever responded. I didn’t think he’d come.

Noah nodded. He wasn’t going to. But he changed his mind last minute. He’ll be here tomorrow morning.

The Highview had been home for so many people over the years, including Ryder, who had been the last to join our group of friends in eighth grade. Ethan and Noah had welcomed him into their friendship with open arms and without question, and as they bonded over surfing, it became the six of us: Noah, Ethan, and Ryder with Allie, Bailey, and me. Our week at The Highview was the highlight of our summer vacation every year and something we would spend the rest of the year talking about. Ryder would always have a countdown going on his phone until the second week of July when we’d usually go. He’d pack for the week the morning of, just throwing in swim trunks and the bare necessities. He’d show up at the house with a backpack while we lugged duffel bags and suitcases up the stairs. He would always tease Bailey because she usually forgot her toothbrush.

We had the best memories all together in the house, but I wasn’t ready to see Ryder.

Noah and I fell into silence as Ethan ran back down the beach and up to the deck. He took his earbuds out and checked the time on his watch.

My best mile time yet. He’s back, everyone. He grabbed a water bottle from the table where he’d left it. Leaning against the railing, he pulled his phone out of the armband he was wearing, disconnected his music, and then looked back up at us.

His sweat-soaked brow furrowed. Did you see Ryder’s text, Noah?

Noah nodded. That’s what we were just talking about. He looked back at me, and Ethan followed suit.

Morgan, when was the last time you saw Ryder? Ethan asked. When you dumped him back in April?

Really, Ethan? Noah asked.

That’s right, I said.

Ethan laughed. Man, you date a girl for two years, claim she’s the one, and even though you’re only eighteen, prepare to give your life to her. Then she just leaves you in the dust.

Can you not? I asked.

He was right, though. Ryder and I had had the perfect love story. For two years, we’d made plans for the beach houses we’d own and the stamps we’d collect in our nonexistent passports. Best friends first, we’d shared a giggly first kiss, followed by late-night phone calls and Friday-night dates at Cobb Theatre. Even when we were accepted into different colleges, we swore we’d make it work. The drive from Orlando, where he would be, to St. Augustine, where I would be, was a quick one, straight down I-95. We’d agreed it would work, and it had.

Until it hadn’t.

Chapter 2

Me, 6:23 a.m.: There’s a new Dunkin’ Donuts on McCall.

Me, 6:23 a.m.: I bet they’ll still mess up my order. So annoying.

I woke with the sun the next morning and immediately made my way to the back deck. Thankfully, Noah went to the grocery store last night and bought what he deemed as necessities: bread, eggs, lunch meat, four bags of Lay’s chips, and, for me, coffee and coffee creamer. With a coffee mug in hand, I sat in my favorite Adirondack chair that gave me the perfect view of the ocean and breathed in the salt air.

The houses that surrounded The Highview were all vacation rentals as well. Peak visiting times were during the summer season, and there was always a revolving door of new guests for us to mingle with each year. As I looked to the house to the left of us—the only one on the street with a swimming pool— I wondered who would be there this year. It was notoriously known for being rented to families, except for the one time two summers ago when a fraternity rented it out. They’d spent their days doing clean up on the beach for their time giving back to the community and their nights in full on party mode. The house to the right of us was smaller, with a slab on concrete as the back deck and a pull-out couch as the sleeping accommodations. The selling point for this entire row of houses was the private beach access, only available to residents of Shoreview Drive.

I looked out at a sailboat in the distance as it floated along the ocean. The water looked still, the orange sky a backdrop to what the day would bring. It had started raining last night around nine and stopped this morning around four. I’d spent the night tossing and turning, listening to the sound the rain made as it hit the window in my room. When I’d gotten bored of that, I moved to the living room and listened to the sound it made as it hit the roof.

I’d lain awake all night wondering how it would feel to hear Ryder’s Honda Civic revving down the street with its windows down, Queen playing on the classic rock station we all secretly loved. His musical taste had always been as eclectic as everything else about him. He’d get out of his car and tell me it was okay and that we could work on it. He’d bring a tray of fountain drinks because he always laughed at me for needing an iced coffee or a Dr. Pepper in hand at all times. He’d tell me he still loved me.

But, when I really thought about it, I guess I didn’t have the right to wish for all of that. After all, I had been the one to call it quits. He’d been willing to fight for us at a time when I had nothing left to give.

My history with Ryder was like a story out of a rom-com. We’d spent years becoming best friends, and one night, during the summer after ninth grade, Ryder had asked me what would happen if he kissed me.

I shrugged. Only one way to find out.

He held out one fist in the palm of