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Cruz’s eyebrows draw together in a frown, and he opens his mouth, but I keep talking.

“I mean, that was the whole point of me coming here. What if I go back with nothing to show for it? I go back to Seattle, and I’m still the scared, little girl who had a meltdown three months ago?”

There’s a short pause, and then Cruz asks, “So you’re going back to Seattle?”

“I have to, don’t I?”

Cruz doesn’t answer right away. He just stares at me in the dim moonlight, his expression unreadable. Then he sucks in a deep breath of air, looking away for a moment before fixing his gaze back on me. “I know this might be horrible timing, but I’ve got to ask … what exactly are we doing here?”

I pause. “Doing?” I echo.

“Yes, us. What are we doing? Just fucking, having fun, or is it more?”

I flinch. “We’re not just …fucking,” I say quietly, the implication practically burning me.

“Then what?” heasks pointedly.

I blink, his question dissipating in the air around us. “What—we …” I stutter. True, we’d never discussed it. Put any labels on it. And I’d been purposefully ignoring the fact that I was only here for the summer. That this would eventually have to end.

But somehow, with Cruz asking me point blank what we are, the idea of leaving him behind suddenly feels … like my chest is tight, my heart falling into my stomach, like a panic attack all over again.

“If you go home to Seattle, where does that leave us?” he asks.

“I … don’t know,” I answer truthfully.

Cruz heaves a heavy sigh, looking away and then back at me again. “Well, I don’t think that’s very fair, is it, Princess?”

Suddenly feeling attacked again, I retort, “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know!” he snaps. “I just … I just want to know if I’m pining over something I can’t have.”

I rub my hands over my eyes, feeling a swell of frustration welling up inside of me. “I feel like I’m being pulled in a thousand different directions here, Cruz, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“What do youwantto do?” he grits out. “Do you want to work for your parents or not? Do you wantmeor not? It’s that simple.”

I’m shaking my head. “But it’s not.”

“But itis!” He throws his hands up in the air. His voice echoes off the cabins nearby, settling into the silence around us. He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “You know what, Addison, I just want you to be happy. And you seemed so,sohappy today. Before your mom showed up, before you started thinking about Seattle and going home. But … but if that’s really what you want, I want that for you. I …” He shrugs helplessly. “Just … whatever you decide … let me know, I guess?” He gives me one, last, long look before turning on his heel and leaving me alone on the dirt road.

Chapter 17

Addison

After pacing my cabin, wracking my brains, and crying my eyes out, all I want is one thing: cake. After a quick glance at the clock to ensure that it’s late enough for no one to be around, I wrap myself in an old sweater, slide on some sandals, and head out into the night.

I flick on the overhead lights to the mess hall once I walk through the doors, making my way across the large room to the kitchen. While there was a big crowd tonight, I’m sure there’s cake left over. I made more than enough. I just really hope some of that German chocolate cake is left.

I swing open the kitchen doors, and I startle just a little at the presence of someone else in the room.

“Hank!” I say, placing my hand over my heart. “You scared me.” I laugh.

“Oh, sorry about that, hun,” he calls over his shoulder. He’s loading the dishwasher in the corner while a tub of soapy water sits in the massive sink, presumably filled with dishes.

“Are you still cleaning up?” I ask, stepping closer. “It’s past midnight.”

He shrugs. “The dishwasher only washes so fast,” he says. “And we always have double the people at these fancy dinners.”

I frown, suddenly feeling a bit guilty. “You should have told me. I would have stayed and helped.”