She tugs at the zipper of her jacket.
“Watching over Star. Just in case.” She shrugs. “Didn’t want Ford to miss out.”
It would’ve been fun having Jensen camping with us. I can just imagine the kinds of things he’d rope us into. But Missy’s right, it isn’t really something Ford should miss out on.
We head down the stairs to find Grace, Ford, and Harper gathered near the door.
“Here she is,” Grace drawls, arms crossed with a smirk. “Always making us wait.”
Missy scoffs, “Oh, please.”
Ford shakes his head, amused.
“We’d have been halfway up the mountain by now if we weren’t waiting for you.”
Missy rolls her eyes, shoving him playfully.
“You should be grateful, Ford. Life would be terribly dull without me keeping you on your toes.”
I glance over at Ford as the banter continues. He’s dressed for the trip in boots, sturdy trousers, and a rucksack slung across his broad back, the weight resting easily against his strong frame. When he looks at me, there’s something in his eyes. It’s nothing dramatic, just a little bit of warmth that settles low in my stomach before I can reason it away. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
Missy’s mum turns to me, her expression warm.
“I’m happy you’re coming with us,” she says, sounding sincere. “It’s been so lovely having you around.”
I smile; the warmth of her words ground me, and for a moment, I feel like maybe I belong here.
We pile into the trucks and set off, winding through breathtaking mountainous scenery. The roads twist and climb, the towering peaks dusted with the last light of day. The sky stretches vastly above us, painted in hues of orange and purple, casting shadows over the valleys below.
Eventually, we pull into a small clearing nestled partway up the mountain. A firepit sits in the centre, surrounded by logs worn smooth from years of use.
“This is our spot,” Missy says, stepping out and inhaling the crisp air. “We’ve always come here. Dad loved this place. He used to bring us here all the time when we were kids.”
She smiles, looking around fondly. “Feels like home,” she murmurs.
The sun slipped slowly beneath the horizon, and for a long moment, the sky burned with colour, streaks of orange, blush, and the deepening blue of night fading in at the edges.
For a while, we just watched—Missy, Grace, and I caught in quiet awe. The world was so peaceful, so calm, so still.
The only sound was the hush of birdsong in the trees and the quiet calls from distant animals. It felt like the world was ours.
Harper and Ford, meanwhile, gathered wood, their laughter and teasing drifting across the clearing as they built the fire together. They moved with ease, falling into rhythm as they pitched the tents, like they’d done this a dozen times before. I watched them for a moment, recognising how good he is with his sisters and his mum. There’s a steadiness to their relationship and a loyalty that feels rare.
The evening unfolds around the dancing fire. The scent of charred wood mingles with the warmth of cooked food. Laughter fills the air as everyone snacks on s’mores, the chocolate melting between their fingers while they share stories of their dad, fond memories filled with love and nostalgia. Their words warm my heart, but at the same time, they make it ache. I wish I had something like this, a bond, a tradition, a relationship with my own dad. I stare down at the camping mug filled with wine in my hand, swirling the deep red liquid absentmindedly. Missy had insisted on bringing wine, adamant that beer was disgusting. Which, honestly, I am grateful for, as I’ve never been able to stomach beer either.
I’m lost in thought when I hear my name.
“So, enough about us,” Grace says, leaning forward. “What about you, Stormy? Tell us about your family”
The question hangs in the air, and I force a small smile, willing my voice to stay light.
“Uh … well,” I exhale, trying to sound casual. “My mum and sister passed away a while ago.” I pause, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “Car accident. And … yeah, I don’t see my dad anymore.”
It’s silent for a beat. Just long enough to make me feel like I’ve made things awkward. I drop my gaze, heat prickling at the back of my eyes.
“Sorry,” I murmur, attempting a small laugh. “That was depressing. Let’s talk about something else.”
Missy reaches over and places a reassuring hand on my knee, and Grace’s voice is gentle when she speaks.
