“Oh, Stormy. That must have been really hard.” Her expression softens as she looks at me. “But you know what? You’re one of us now, even if we don’t share blood. I’m really glad you’re here.”
Missy turns to me, pulling me into a hug.
“It must’ve been tough, losing them all. But you’re not alone anymore, okay? We’ve got you now, for as long as you’ll let us.”
Their words settle over me like a blanket, unexpectedly comforting.
Harper smiles at me over Missy’s shoulder. It’s been so lovely getting to know her over these past few weeks. I’ve even enjoyed having her help with some of the bookshop decisions.
Across the fire, Ford sits on a log, half shadowed in the orange glow. His expression is different to usual. He looks at me in a way I’ve never seen.
The fire crackles, and in its warmth, I feel a quiet sense of belonging, fragile but real.
But I’m grateful when Ford clears his throat, subtly shifting the conversation in a different direction.
“Well,” he says, a spark of mischief lighting his eyes, “should we talk about how Harper got stuck halfway up a boulder today like a confused mountain goat?”
Harper’s head snaps up. “Ford …”
“Oh no, this needs to be shared,” he presses on, grinning. “She decided to take this ‘shortcut’ back to camp, right? Of course, she did—it is Harperafter all.” He rolls his eyes for effect. “Anyway, she started scaling this massive rock. Only halfway up, she realised she couldn’t go forward or back. Just clung there, dramatically sighing while I tried to talk her down.” Laughter rolls through the group.
“In her defence,” he adds, glancing her way, “she’s never been great at staying still.” He turns to me with a smirk, “ADHD brain, plus mountainside, equals chaos math. But honestly? It’s no surprise, really. It’s not a proper outing until Harper tries to turn it into an expedition.”
Harper’s cheeks flush as she tries to hide behind her cup, but she’s grinning too.
“Next time, you can go collect the firewood yourself.”
Ford gives her a look. “You? Sit still whilst somebody else goes exploring? Yeah, I’d like to see that.”
Harper sighs with theatrical defeat. “Fair. Still,rude.”
Giggling into my wine, I glance up, and Ford catches my eye. It’s only a moment, a glance through firelight, but it lands. His smile is soft, no teasing now, just quiet acknowledgement. As if to sayI’ve got you. I changed the subject for you.I let a small smile tug at the corner of my mouth, answering without words.I know. Thank you.
The mood lifts, the air feels lighter, and the laughter remains. Eventually, Harper and Grace drift off towards their tents, and Ford follows not long after, murmuring an excuse, vanishing into the dark.
Missy and I stay a little longer, sipping wine and sharing quiet thoughts before finally deciding to call it a night.
I unzip the tent door, duck inside, and close it again to change into some leggings and a thick, woolly jumper. I stare at the sleeping bag on the floor with a mix of resignation and quiet dread.
Ideally, I would have liked an air mattress—something with a bit of give. But Missy had insisted that I get the full camping experience. Crawling in, I let out a slow breath. The sleeping bag seals in just enough warmth totrick my body into surrender. The floor beneath me is as unforgiving as I expected—hard, uneven, and stubbornly indifferent to my attempts at comfort. I’m fairly sure I laid a sleeping mat down earlier, but it might as well be imaginary for all the support it offers.
After some awkward shifting and sighing, I settle into a semi-comfortable angle, my back already protesting. The stillness begins to cradle me despite it all, and as my eyelids grow heavy, I feel something unfamiliar gleaming beneath the fatigue. A quiet comfort. Not in the setup or surroundings, but in the strange simplicity of just being here. By the sense of being surrounded by people who care. Of Ford and the way that he looked out for me tonight.
Eventually, sleep takes me, my last thought lingering on the warmth behind his smile, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, we can continue to be friends.
Someone towers over me. Their eyes burn, molten black with rage, locked onto mine with terrifying intensity. Their fists clench at their sides, knuckles stretched tight and white as they fight against their own anger. They’re shouting, their mouth moves, their face contorts, but I can’t hear a word. The world slows, distorted, muffled, the roar in my ears louder than the fiercest thunderstorm.
Specks of saliva fly from their mouth, their nostrils flare, their whole body vibrates with fury. I’m on the ground, the cold seeping into my skin as I stare up at them. My heart hammers violently, bile rising in my throat.
I know this feeling. I’ve lived it before.
Sam.
He moves. His fist uncurls…
I jolt awake, my breath caught in my throat.
My skin is clammy and cold, covered in sweat, and my heart is racing wildly in my chest.
