I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed seeing him around until now. With him here, it’s suddenly obvious.
His apology wasn’t perfect. What he did wasn’t right.
But the regret in his voice felt real.
Tangible.
Like it cost him something to say it.
And maybe that’s enough for now.
26
Stormy
“Iam SO excited for tonight!”
Missy all but vibrates, her hands gripping my shoulders as she beams straight into my face. I throw my head back, laughing.
“I know, I can tell,” I say, trying to match her energy.
“I can’t believe you’ve never been camping,” she teases, removing herself from my personal bubble and continuing to pack her bag.
I sit on the edge of her bed, fiddling with the toggles on my rucksack. I tell her that when you live in London, camping isn’t exactly something you think about. Of course, what I don’t tell her is that even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t have been allowed to. Sam always kept me close … in his control, and he wasn’t into things like that, so we never went.
It was the same when I was younger. My dad never liked the idea of camping, so we didn’t do it. Looking back now, it’s strange to realise just how alike they were. All these similarities I didn’t notice until I was away from Sam. Until I had the space to truly dissect our relationship.
And it wasn’t just camping. My dad made sure none of us did anything he didn’t approve of. Not me, not my sister, not even my Mum. He didn’t even try to hide it; if something didn’t suit him, it was a flat no, and that was the end of it. Eventually, we learnt not to question him. Sam was different, or so I thought. Just not in the way I needed. He was cleverer about it—more charming, even playful. He’d make it seem like staying in was our little secret, our haven. At first, he wrapped his control in softness. Made me feel chosen. Made me feel safe. But in the end, it wasn’t so different. It was just a quieter kind of trap.
Now it’s clear. I didn’t escape; I just swapped types of control. “Hello? Earth to camper virgin,” Missy grins, waving a headtorch in my direction. “Please tell me you packed one of these. ‘Cos if you didn’t, you’ll have to borrow mine. And trust me, I charge steeply, in marshmallows and embarrassing stories.”
I blink, pulled back to the present.
“Oh … yeah,” I say, rummaging through my rucksack.
She makes a dramatic face. “And not to freak you out or anything, but going for a wee in the dark without one of these? That’s how horror documentaries start.”
I pull out a small torch and hold it up.
“I don’t think it’s the brightest, but it works.”
Missy grins.
“Good. For a second there, I thought you were planning to channel your inner woodland creature and navigate by moonlight.”
I laugh, and the tension in my chest eases. She’d invited me out to the mountains for a night of camping with her family. A tradition, she’d explained, observed every year on the anniversary of her dad’s passing.
I told her I wasn’t sure about coming, that it was a family moment, and I didn’t want to intrude, but she shut me down immediately.
“Everyone loves you,” she’d insisted. “It'll be nice for us all to spend time together and for you to get to know everyone better.”
Still, I feel nervous. Not just about the camping, but about being around Ford now that things between us have settled a bit. It’s not quite easy, but it’s no longer brittle. And maybe that’s what unsettles me most. There’s a glimmer of something … attraction, curiosity. Whatever it is, it’s hovering at the edge of my thoughts. I don’t know if he wants to spend this kind of time around me, but I do know I’m not entirely indifferent to the idea.
But, even with the nerves and the uncertainty, I realise I might actually be looking forward to tonight. I’ll be doing something new and adventurous—something that’s completely different to my life in London.
Missy slings her bag over her shoulder. “Jensen usually camps with us too, you know.”
I glance up. “Oh, really? Where’s he tonight then?”
