Lines in the Sand (Crossing The Lines #0.5) by Sc Montgomery Read Free Book Online Page A

dad’s job.
    “Sweet,” I said, eying a boat the size of a white marble in the distance. “I think she’s making pork chops tonight.”
    He nodded and kept toeing the sand between us, now disrupting an old soda bottle as the waves lapped in the distance and a gull cawed loudly overhead. Cars began to trickle into the parking lot about a hundred yards away as vacationers started showing up with their chairs and umbrellas, staking their claims to small patches of sand on the beach.
    I kept my eyes peeled in case a hot girl in a bikini appeared so I could be the first to see her and call dibs . . . though the only girl I really wanted to see was Melissa Summers.
    Just as a potential hottie with long blond hair was walking from the family van to the water’s edge, my shoe was covered by a landslide of sand. “Hey! What’re you doin’, man?”
    Jonah rolled his head toward me from where he was still lying. “Sorry, dude. It just slid loose. Accident.” But his half-grin said he wasn’t that sorry.
    I stood to shake the sand off, aggravated that I could already feel the grit in my sock.
    Then, out of the corner of my eye, something caught my attention.
    I couldn’t say why, it wasn’t large, or shiny. But it drew me. About two feet from where Jonah had shifted the sand with his dumb foot, a tattered piece of fabric laid buried in the sand.
    I knelt down and examined it.
    Jonah sat up. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”
    “I don’t know. Some cloth or something.” I inched closer and touched it, an eerie feeling sliding through my body.
    Jonah popped onto his knees and crawled over. “Lemme see . . .”
    “No!” I held out a hand to stop him. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t want him to touch it. “I got it.” I gave the fabric a tug and a big piece yanked free to whip in my hand with the wind.
    We both looked it over. It was dingy, but it had obviously been white once with little yellow flowers.
    “What do you think it is?” he asked.
    “I have no idea,” I said, but I somehow knew it was something . My heart began to pound as I handed the cloth to Jonah and raked my fingers through the sand looking for a bigger piece.
    We glanced over as someone on the beach gave a yell as they chased a Frisbee in the warming beach air. The surf continued to pound the beach, the gulls continued their mournful cries, the kids continued to build their castles. Someone’s barbeque scented the air.
    Jonah and I looked at each other. He felt it, too. He nodded, indicating that I should continue digging. It didn’t need to be spoken—this morning we were on a different journey. No more kid stuff.
    A couple minutes later, my fingertips grazed something hard. I froze.
    “What?” Jonah demanded. “You find something else?”
    I peered up at him where he sat still with the piece of fabric clutched in his hand like a lifeline. “Maybe?”
    “Well, dig it up.” He moved closer as excitement tinged his voice. He’d always been the adrenalin junkie, but not the one to get his hands dirty. How was that fair? I shot him a nasty look.
    I sifted my fingertips through the sand a second time. I felt it again. Firm. Cool. I gripped it and yanked.
    I came up with a long strip of leather. Like the cloth, it was weathered and old and it was hard to tell what it could’ve been.
    Though, as I touched the cracked strip, a rush of reverence washed over my heart. I glanced up as a cloud momentarily floated in front of the sun, blocking its rays.
    “Dude . . .” Jonah reached out and brushed his fingers across the leather, his tone quiet and respectful.
    I flipped it over and we both touched it again, realizing at the same time that letters were etched into the back side.
    “What’s it say?” Jonah glanced up into my eyes.
    I traced a capital ‘L,’ tried to sound out the other letters, which had faded over time.
    “Lettuce?”
    “No, stupid,” I thunked Jonah on the arm. I ran my fingers through the engraving again.