Read Falling for Summer for Free Online

ever heard, growing up, to have respect for that lake. 
    “All right,” Summer finally says, shaking her head again as she tosses her braid over her shoulder.  “You don't have to come with me.  But thank you,” she says, and she holds the door open for me to duck back out into the night.
    And I do.  I'm shaking, shivering from how violently cold the water is, pouring from the sky, but I slog through it, holding my hands above my eyes to try to see better.  It doesn't help.  The rain, driven sideways by the gusting winds, fills my eyes.
    “Come on!” Summer yells beside me, in order to be heard over the sudden crack of lightning overhead and the earth-shaking thunder that follows.  Summer is darting forward, making a beeline for the cabin, and it's easy to follow her because the lightning is now almost constant, the atmosphere above us filled with a spectacular light show that my eyes are too waterlogged to truly appreciate.  My heart rises into my throat as I realize that the center of the thunderstorm must be directly above us right now.
    We reach my cabin, and we both manage to get up the stairs and inside it.  I left the door flapping open, because I didn't see much point in shutting and locking it behind me when I left, not when the water pouring down inside was practically equal to the downpour outside.  Summer stares in disbelief as the lightning illuminates the inside of the cabin again, and I stare, too, because there are actually more leaks inside than when I left it.  There must be at least thirty leaks now, in varying sizes, pouring buckets of water down into the cabin, onto the cot where I was supposed to spend the night, and onto my suitcase, utterly soaking every single possession I brought with me on this trip. 
    I stare, disheveled and soaked, at my suitcase and actually breathe a small sigh of relief.  Thank God I put my eReader and Tiffany's diary in a Ziploc bag.  The only reason I'd thought to do it is that I'd lost my first eReader to a disaster by the pool—and by disaster, I mean that some kid had taken a cannonball into the pool of the resort I was staying at with my ex, and the wave of water he created came up and over the side of the pool and covered my eReader, instantly rendering it inoperable.  I'd learned from that mistake, so on every vacation I've had since, I've taken precautions against my new eReader becoming another waterlogged paperweight.
    I wade across the water on the floor to grab my suitcase.  I feel around inside for the Ziploc bag, and once I find it, I nod and zipper the suitcase shut, hefting it up with a wince.  The water-drenched clothes inside make it so much heavier than it was when I brought it here, and it was already pretty heavy to begin with.  My shoulder grumbles under the strain, but then I'm hauling the suitcase toward the door.
    Summer still has her hands on her hips, staring up at the ceiling of the cabin with a perplexed, infuriated expression.  “I can't believe this!” she yells to me over another crack of thunder.  “I paid a couple grand to get that roof patched up, and now this?  I'm going to kill that roofer!”  She shakes her head again, then reaches forward and takes my suitcase away from me.  I try to hold onto the handle in protest, but she maneuvers it out of my grip easily.  “I'm so sorry about this!” she yells to me.  “Come on back to my cabin—we'll get you dry!”
    We race through the thunderstorm side by side, Summer carrying my suitcase, me with my hands still glued to my forehead as I blink back all of the rain driven into my eyes, trying desperately to see.  But my gaze is so blurry that when we finally reach the front cabin again, Summer ushering me into the warm, dry space, everything is a nice, warm blur of golden-tan, including Summer for a long moment. 
    I rub at my eyes as Summer shuts the door behind us and flops her dripping wet braid over her shoulder with a sigh.  “Well,” she says,