THINGS WE LOST IN SUMMER.

CHAPTER 8 - BLOOD ON THE WATER.

Fog is heavy on the lake. Air cold and wet like breath from something sleeping beneath. Noah stood on the dock, crowbar slick with his blood, sleeve sticking to skin.

He thought Casey was gone. Thought the fight in the boathouse had been it. But the woods never emptied. Shadows followed. Always.

Now the dock creaked. More boots. Not just Casey. More.

Three of them are stepping out of the mist. Casey in front, face half-shaded under that cap. Behind him, Bill and Danner, both older, both bigger, both with that look in their eyes the kind that had watched too many bad things and kept quiet.

Casey smiled. Thin. Cruel.

“Told you it wasn’t over.”

Noah didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His throat was raw from shouting, his chest raw from running.

Bill flicked a cigarette to the planks. “Boy don’t even look scared.”

“Scared?” Casey said. He tilted his head, mock gentle. “He’s broken. Look at him. Been chasing ghosts too long.”

Elia’s voice whispered in Noah’s head: Don’t let them bury me.

His grip tightened on the crowbar.

Casey’s eyes dropped to it. “You really think you’re some hero? Swingin’ that thing around like you’re gonna change the world?” He laughed low. “Your old man tried that too. Didn’t end well, did it?”

The words hit harder than the knife had. Dad.

Noah’s breath hitched. His father’s silence at the dinner table. The way he’d said “drop it” over and over. His face the night Noah left. Cold. Empty. Now Casey is dragging it all back.

“You shut up,” Noah said, voice cracked.

Casey grinned wider. “Or what? You gonna hit me? Kill me? You ain’t got it in you. Same as him. Always asking, never acting. That’s why Elia had to go.”

Something inside Noah snapped.

He roared and swung. Crowbar hissed through the air. Casey ducked, fast, too fast. Blow cracked the dock post instead, wood splintering. Sparks of pain shot through Noah’s arm.

Then they rushed him.

Bill from the side, Danner from behind. Fists like hammers. He staggered, the crowbar yanked. Pain bloomed in ribs, back, skull.

He hit the dock hard, breath gone. World tilting. Fog closing.

Casey crouched near, knife glinting again. Eyes cruel, calm.

“You should’ve stayed gone, Noah. Nobody wanted you back. Not her. Not your old man. Not me.”

Noah spat blood. Tasted iron.

“She… she didn’t leave me.”

Casey’s grin faltered. Just a second. Enough.

Noah swung up wild, elbow catching Bill’s jaw. Man yelped, stumbled. Crowbar is still near. Noah grabbed, yanked, and smashed it against Danner’s knee. Crack. Danner howled, dropped.

Casey lunged. Knife kissed Noah’s cheek, shallow cut, sting hot. Noah shoved back, crowbar jamming up into Casey’s ribs. A grunt. Knife clattered.

They grappled, both panting, both bleeding. The dock groaned under the weight, lake water slapping angrily.

Elia’s laugh flashed sun on the lake, hair flying. Then her whisper in the dark: We never leave each other behind.

Noah screamed, all rage, all grief, swung the crowbar down. Caught Casey’s shoulder. Crunch.

Casey roared, swung a fist, and split Noah’s lip. Blood sprayed.

Bill was back, lunging again. Noah turned, wild, crowbar swinging wide. Connected with the temple. Sick thud. Bill dropped.

Danner is crawling, cursing, leg is bent wrong.

Only Casey was left.

Both stood. Both swayed. Both weapons have gone to the boards. Just fists now.

Breathe heavy. Eyes locked.

“You ain’t her savior,” Casey spat. “She’s gone. Nothin’ you do changes that.”

Noah’s chest heaved. Tears burned.

“She’s not gone. She’s with me. Right now. She’s the reason you die here.”

Casey’s eyes flared. Then he charged.

They collided, bodies slamming, fists flying. Each hit thundered through bone. Blood everywhere. Dock shaking, boards creaking.

Noah didn’t feel the pain anymore. Just rage. Just her name pounding like a drum.

Elia. Elia. Elia.