All The Summers Between Us | TSITP

The Call That Starts It All.

Steven Conklin was two coffees deep into his morning when he finally stopped pretending not to worry.

He was sitting outside a café near the station, sunglasses perched low, his laptop open but forgotten.

The city around him was loud in the lazy, familiar way—car horns, people talking over each other, the metallic clatter of trains arriving and leaving. None of it could drown out what Laurel had said on the phone an hour ago.

"Things at Cousins are... complicated right now, Stevie."

That's what she'd said before slightly going into a little more detail. Just that small sigh that mothers use when they know their kids are going to read between every line.

He'd hung up thinking he wouldn't think about it. But he was a Conklin. And if there was one thing he couldn't do, it was not care about the people he loved.

So he pulled out his phone and scrolled to Denise Russo—one of the few people he trusted to show up when things got messy. She worked with him and Jeremiah, sharp as hell, level-headed, with the kind of humour that could fix a bad day faster than caffeine ever could.

He hesitated a second, thumb hovering over the call button. Then he tapped.

"Steven Conklin," came her voice almost immediately, smooth and bright and teasing. "To what do I owe this rare and suspicious honour?"

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hey, Dee. You busy?"

"Define busy. If you mean buried under reports Jeremiah swore he'd finish, then yes. But if you mean doing something I can't walk away from, absolutely not."

"Perfect," he said. "Because I need a favour."

"Oh boy." She leaned back in her chair—he could hear it in her tone. "What kind of favour are we talking about? Legal? Emotional? Spiritual?"

He grinned. "A trip."

"A trip?"

"To Cousins."

There was a pause. Then a slow, amused sound. "Cousins Beach? The one you never stop talking about every summer?"

"The very same," he said.

"Well, damn. I must have really moved up in the ranks."

Steven laughed under his breath. "Look, I know it's last minute, but the wedding's getting close, and everyone's going. Laurel's on her way, so is Belly and Jere, Lydia's there..." he trailed off.

"And?" Denise prompted, catching the shift in his voice.

He sighed. "Mom says it's been... a lot lately. Between Lydia, Daniel, and Conrad. Didn't really tell me much. Just that things are tense. But she said it in the Laurel voice. You know, the one that means it's worse than she's saying."

"Ah," Denise said knowingly. "The "everything's fine, but please send help" voice."

"Exactly."

"So you want me to come down there and what? Diffuse family drama? Bake cookies? Be emotional support for your cousin's pre-wedding chaos?"

"Yes," he said simply. "All of the above. Also maybe keep Jeremiah from accidentally making things worse."

She laughed, low and soft. "That does sound like a full-time job."

"Hey, you're good at full-time jobs," he teased.

"I'm also good at boundaries," she countered.

He grinned. "So that's a no?"

She didn't answer right away. He could hear her thinking, maybe already mentally packing. "You really think they need me?"

"I think having you there would help," Steven said, honest now. "Lydia's been through a lot. And if my mom's even half right, this wedding is turning into... something else. I don't know what, but I don't like how it sounds."

She sighed softly, the sound of a drawer sliding open in the background. "Okay, I'll bite. What's the plan?"

He leaned back in his chair, watching the streetcar roll by. "I'll book you the first train to Cousins tonight. You'll be there, by what, ten? I can send Jere to pick you up from the station."

"That fast?"

"Yeah. I figured I'd better ask before I overthink it."

There was a pause—then that familiar smile in her voice. "You know, Conklin, you're dangerously persuasive for someone who's never on time."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"You should. I'll pack a bag and head for the station in an hour."

"Perfect. I'll text you the ticket."

"Good. And Steven?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell Laurel not to worry. I'll be there soon."

He smiled, something easing in his chest. "She'll be glad to hear that."

"Also," Denise added, playful again, "tell Jeremiah if he's late picking me up, I'm finding the first crab shack by myself and eating his portion of fries."

Steven laughed, pushing away from the table. "Noted. He'll be there. Thanks, Dee."

"Don't thank me yet," she said lightly. "You know I'm allergic to drama."

He raised a brow. "You work with me and Jere. You're basically vaccinated."

She laughed, loud and bright. "Touché. Text me the train info, Conklin. I'll see you soon."

"Safe travels, Dee."

"Always."

The line clicked off, and for the first time all day, Steven felt like maybe things would be okay.

He typed out a quick message to Laurel: Got Denise to come. She's catching the 7:45 train. Should be at Cousins by 10. Don't worry. Reinforcements inbound.

Laurel's reply came almost immediately: Thank you, sweetheart. We might really need her.

Steven pocketed his phone, the evening breeze brushing his face, smelling faintly like salt even this far inland.

He smiled to himself and murmured under his breath, "Good luck, Dee. You're walking straight into a storm."

Then he stood, tossed his empty coffee cup, and started walking to his car—because if there was one thing the Conklins knew, it was that Cousins Beach always had a way of pulling everyone home.