Book 3 The Summer I Turned Pretty Review

Conrad turned to face her fully. The porch light caught the side of his face, the sharp line of his jaw, the dark circles under his eyes. He looked older than twenty. Older than grief.

“That’s the problem, Belly,” he said. “I never have to pretend with you. And that’s exactly why I can’t be near you right now.”

Belly’s throat tightened. “You don’t know how I look at him.”

Jeremiah was on the other side of the fire, his arm slung around a girl from Lacrosse camp. He was telling a story—something about a capsized sailboat—and every few seconds he’d glance over at Belly. Not long glances. Quick ones. Checking. book 3 the summer i turned pretty

“You’re missing the show,” she said.

The fire crackled down the beach. A laugh rang out—Jeremiah’s laugh, bright and easy. And Belly stood frozen between two brothers, two futures, two versions of herself.

“Yes, I do.” Conrad’s voice broke on the second word. “Because it’s the same way I look at you.” Conrad turned to face her fully

Down on the beach, Jeremiah looked up at the deck. He saw Belly standing alone. And for just a second, his smile faltered.

“Then why are you out here?” she whispered. “And he’s down there?”

Conrad’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. “That sounds like him.” Older than grief

Belly set her cup down in the sand and walked toward the house. She found him leaning against the porch railing, facing the ocean. The screen door groaned behind her, but he didn’t turn.

And before Belly could say the thing she’d been holding in her chest since she was ten years old— It’s always been you, it’s always been you, why can’t you see it’s always been you —Conrad Fisher walked back into the dark house and closed the door softly behind him.

“Am I?”

Three summers ago , she thought, I would have been sitting right between them.

Book 3. The summer everything broke.