Every Summer After

I read Every Summer After on a dock, which was either perfect planning or dangerous because I did not want to leave the lake after. Carley Fortune published it with Berkley in May 2022, a 368 page debut romance with ISBN 9780593438534 about Persephone Fraser, called Percy, who spent childhood summers at Barry's Bay in Ontario next door to Sam and Charlie Florek, fell in love with Sam, broke on one terrible night, and returns years later for a funeral to face him. Then and Now chapters braid first love and second chance. If you like lakes, loons,incer? Actually like summer nostalgia with ache and heat, wade in. Just know you will smell sunscreen and feel mosquito bites while crying a little.

Percy opens as an adult in Toronto, brittle and successful, who has not been to the lake in years. A call comes. Sam's mother has died. Funeral in Barry's Bay. Percy must go back to the town where everyone remembers her as summer girl who left and never called. She dreads seeing Sam, now a doctor? Actually a resident? A man who stayed, who runs? Who loves the lake she fled. Their reunion at the funeral home is awkward and charged. Condolences that mean more. Hugs that last too long. Charlie, Sam's older brother, charming and broken in his own way, greets with teasing that covers hurt. Fortune writes homecomings well. Familiar roads. Changed stores. Same lake smell that undoes adult armor in one breath.

Then chapters start at thirteen when Percy's parents buy a cottage? Actually rent? They spend summers at the lake. Percy meets Sam, fourteen, quiet and kind, and Charlie, sixteen, wild and magnetic. Sam teaches Percy to swim better, to drive a boat, to watch stars. Charlie teaches her to sneak out, to drink, to flirt. She loves both as brothers at first, then Sam differently. Their friendship builds through summers. Jumping off docks. Working at local restaurants. Reading on porches. First kiss at fifteen under fireworks? First time at seventeen in a boathouse with care and nerves. Fortune writes teen love with patience and heat appropriate to age. Consent talked through. Awkwardness kept. No one performs. That honesty makes later break hurt more because love was healthy before it broke.

Sam as a boy and man deserves a full note because Fortune makes him the gold standard for patient heroes without making him saint. As a teen, he is steady, funny in a dry way, protective of Percy and Charlie both. He wants to be a doctor to help, studies while working summers, saves money. As an adult, he stayed in Barry's Bay, became a doctor? Works at clinic, cares for mother through illness, loves the lake without resentment. He is angry at Percy for leaving and not calling, but his anger is quiet. He does not shout. He asks direct questions. Why did you go? Why no letters? When Percy deflects, he nods and gives space, which is worse than fighting because it shows respect that Percy feels she does not deserve. His kindness is not weakness. It is choice. That distinction matters for readers tired of brooding bad boys. Sam is good and still sexy. Flannel, stethoscope, dock calluses. Yes.

Charlie provides necessary chaos and heartbreak of his own. Older brother, handsome, reckless, drowning in charm and drink. He loves Percy like sister, then confusingly more one night? He loves Sam fiercely but competes. As adults, Charlie has struggled with addiction and recovery, with jobs lost and regained. His scenes with Percy at the funeral, hugging too tight, joking to cover tears, show sibling-like love that survived. He pushes Percy toward Sam because he knows both are stuck. He also carries his own guilt about that night years ago when everything broke. Fortune gives Charlie a full arc without stealing focus. Addicts in recovery written with dignity, not lesson. Relapse feared, sobriety celebrated one day at a time. That care lifts the book above romance only. Families hold more than couples.

The night and the lake

The breaking night needs a careful sketch without stealing reveal power. Years ago, after a summer of perfect love, Percy and Sam planned futures. College. City. Together. Charlie was spiraling. Parents were fighting. Alcohol flowed at a party. Choices were made involving Charlie and Percy that Sam witnessed or heard about and could not forgive. Was it cheating? Was it misunderstanding? Fortune withholds full facts until late, letting readers judge Percy harshly as Sam does, then reframes. I will say the truth involves consent, confusion, and Charlie's manipulation more than malice, and that Percy left because shame convinced her she did not deserve explanation. That shame, carried for years in Toronto through workaholism and shallow dating, explains adult Percy's brittleness. She punished herself by succeeding without joy. Lake was happiness. She exiled herself from happiness as penance.

Barry's Bay itself is a character worth naming in sensory detail. Loons at dawn. Cold water that shocks. Pine needles on docks. Small town restaurants where teens work summers. Cottage porches with old couches. Fireworks over water. Fortune, who summered in Ontario, writes with specific love. Butter tarts. Caesar cocktails. Mosquito bites scratched raw. She does not idealize. Black flies bite. Winters are brutal. Locals resent summer people driving prices. But summers glow in memory because youth glows. Adult Percy returning in fall? Actually in spring for funeral, sees lake grey and still beautiful. Off season honesty suits second chance. No summer filter. Just cold water and warm people. Can love work without sun? Fortune asks and answers yes, slowly.

Present day funeral chapters balance grief and rekindling with adult restraint. Percy helps Sam's family with food, programs, boats. She sleeps in her old cottage, dusty and familiar. She runs into old bosses, teachers, friends who ask why she left. She answers poorly, then better. Sam and Percy talk in short bursts between duties. Boat ride to spread ashes? Walk to old swimming spot? Each meeting peels a year. They laugh at old jokes, then go quiet at new scars. Physical chemistry remains, shown through glances and accidental touches while carrying casseroles. Fortune writes adult desire with restraint that feels right after grief. No rushed bed. Hands brushing. Knees touching on pews. Want held alongside respect for mourning. When they do come together, it feels earned and tender, not just hot, though heat is there for fans. Closed? Open? Moderately open with care. Enough to satisfy without pausing plot.

Parents on both sides add context often missing in romance. Percy's parents, loving but fighting, divorced? Grew apart after summers ended? They pushed Percy toward city success as proof. Sam's parents, warm and community rooted, loved Percy like daughter until break, then protected Sam by cooling. Their reunion with Percy at funeral is awkward and kind. Hugs, tears, questions about Toronto. No villains. Just adults who watched kids break and did not know how to fix. One scene where Sam's late mother appears in memory through a recipe she taught Percy, butter tarts with exact flaky method, undid me. Food as love language. Percy bakes them badly as apology. Sam tastes and cries. That is the book in one bite. Sweet, flawed, shared.

The ending chooses hope with work, not just kiss. Percy must decide whether to stay in Toronto or return to lake life she fled. Sam must decide whether to trust someone who left once. They talk at last about that night fully, with Charlie present to own his part. Truth is ugly and human. Forgiveness is given with boundaries. Percy will visit more. Sam will consider city? Actually they forge a plan that honors both careers and lake. No one sacrifices all for love in a healthy way. Both bend. Fortune ends with a summer, not a wedding, which feels right for debut about seasons. Love as lake you return to, not house you lock. I closed satisfied and a little sunburned from reading too long outside. That is the highest praise for lake book. It kept me in sun past sense.

Criticisms are fair for nostalgia romance. At 368 pages, Then chapters can idealize teen summers until they blur. Dock, swim, kiss, repeat. If you want plot twists, this is emotional excavation, not mystery. The central misunderstanding relies on characters not talking for years, which frustrates some. Why no letter? Why no call? Fortune justifies with shame and youth, mostly works, but twice I wanted to shake Percy into emailing. Charlie's addiction arc, while respectful, resolves quickly. Supportive readers may want more meetings and relapses shown. Accept romance compression. This is love story first, issue novel second.

Percy's Toronto life needs a sharper sketch to contrast lake glow. Marketing job? Actually she works in publishing? Long hours, sleek apartment, friends who brunch without asking about childhood. She dates men who are fine and forgettable. She avoids lakes in city parks. She tells no one about Sam. That compartmentalization explains why return hits hard. Success without roots feels thin when funeral calls. A scene where she packs for Barry's Bay, folding city clothes that feel wrong for docks, captures split. Who is she now? City Percy or lake Percy? Fortune argues both, integrated. Adult Percy must bring Toronto honesty to lake apology, not just nostalgia. Growth is bringing whole self home, not regressing to teen. That nuance lifts the book above summer fling memory. Homecoming as integration, not escape.

Sam's mother as the deceased deserves warmth because her death motivates return and reveals community. She loved Percy like daughter, taught her to make pie crust, covered for teens sneaking out. Her illness, kept quiet to avoid burdening Percy, shows small town privacy. At funeral, stories pile. How she nursed neighbors. How she saved Sam's drawings. Percy realizes she lost a second mother while exiled by shame. Grief doubles. Sam's grief is fresher and sharper. He cared for her through decline while running clinic. His exhaustion explains short temper. Mourning while working kills softness. When Percy offers to stay a week to help sort house, practical help heals more than speeches. Wash dishes. Sort photos. Sit. That labor is love made visible after years of absence.

Charlie's recovery as parallel healing needs an honest paragraph. Older brother who once partied hardest now counts sober days, works construction, sponsors others. He jokes about being screw up turned cautionary tale, but shame lingers. When Percy returns, Charlie fears she sees only the night he ruined. She sees more. Brother who taught her to dive, who drove her to hospital when she cut foot, who called every year she did not answer. Their late night talk on a dock, him sober with soda, her with wine she barely touches, clears air without excusing. He owns his part in that night fully. No minimizing. That ownership lets Percy own hers. Mutual accountability, not just chemistry with Sam, frees all three. Families heal in triangles, not pairs. Remember Charlie when toasting couples. Brothers hold corners.

Percy's mother as distant support deserves mention too. She loved the lake but chose city career, pushing Percy toward ambition as proof. After break, she advised forgetting Sam and moving on, meaning well and wounding. Adult Percy realizes mother projected her own regrets about a summer love she left. That generational echo adds depth without excusing silence. Mothers warn from scars. Daughters hear control. Both love. When Percy finally tells mother full truth about that night, mother cries and apologizes for pushing success over processing. That late honesty frees Percy to choose lake without feeling failure. City or lake are places, not verdicts. Choose where love lives now, not where pride points. Fortune handles mothers with grace. Flawed, loving, learning late. Like daughters. Like all.

Who should read it? Second chance fans, lake summer nostalgists, readers who like Then and Now with heat and heart. If you loved Love and Other Words or Every Summer After comparisons? Actually if you loved those, you will love this. Fortune's May 2022 Berkley debut with ISBN 9780593438534 delivers exactly what cover promises. Golden water. First love. Last chance. I finished and texted an old summer friend I had not called in years. We talked for an hour about docks and mistakes. That call felt like the book's true epilogue. Summers end. People remain if you let them. Go back to your Barry's Bay, whatever water it holds. Apologize for that night, whatever it was. Swim again, even if cold. Especially if cold. Cold wakes.