The corners of my mouth twitch despite myself, and we all glance towards Mom, who’s currently locked in a battle with a tangle of tent fabric,arms flailing like an octopus with a grudge. Stormy lets out a soft, startled laugh, a real one this time, and for half a second, it feels easy. Just people sharing a joke in the middle of the mess.
“Go,” Stormy giggles, her voice steadier now, though something flashes behind her eyes. “Your mum looks like she could use a little help.”
“Nah, I think I’ll just leave her to figure it out,” I say, voice low and mock serious. “She’s strong. She doesn’t need saving.”
“Ford,” Stormy laughs, shoving my shoulder, and for a heartbeat, that touch burns. A spark against my skin. “Go and help her!” Her voice is teasing, and the outrage on her face makes me laugh.
“Of course I’m going to help her. What do you take me for?”
“Well, last I checked, your default setting was Grumpy, so …”
“Yeah. Well. Maybe I’m trying to channel my innerShadow Daddy,” I deadpan, but the corners of my mouth betray me.
She freezes for a beat, brow furrowed, but her lips twitch as she realises that I was actually listening to her ramble about those books last night. Then her face shifts, humour taking over.
“Shadow Daddy, huh?” she teases. A smirk plays at the corner of her mouth, and her teeth tugs discreetly on her bottom lip. But I catch it. And the gleam in her eyes tells me she likes that answer more than she should.
The way my stomach throbs watching her mouth? That tiny tug? Yeah, I should probably walk away. Before we both end up in another situation that we don’t want to be caught up in. For a second, we just stand there, the air between us charged and humming.
And then I force a breath and step back.
“I should go help.”
“Yeah, you should,” she says, but her voice is softer now.
But when I’m halfway across the clearing, I feel it, that tug. The pull to look back.
So I do.
She’s moved to kneel by the supply box, and the pan clinks softly as she slots it into place. Her movements are slow, the moment drawing out almost as if she’s caught in the haze of her own thoughts. She rests back onto her heels, and her hand lifts to tuck a loose strand of hair from her face. And when she does, her eyes catch on mine. Sweet, tentative. But threaded with heat. The kind that sits right on the edge of emotion, so easy to just reach out and grab, tempting and dangerous.
Then a figure steps beside her, pulling her attention away.
Missy.
She stands over her and says something low that makes Stormy glance up, smile, and push herself to her feet. It’s a hesitant smile, like she’s shielding something behind it. Missy’s eyes flick to me. Brief but pointed. And my stomach twists. Because Missy knows what happened this morning. And she’s never been great at keeping her mouth shut, especially not when she thinks she’s ‘helping.’ If she says anything to the rest of the family, if Mom or Harper pick up on it—or worse, Jensen—when we get back, it’ll spread like wildfire. My family … Jesus. They’d never let it go. It’d be all knowing smiles and relentless questions. They’d act like it’s good. Like it’s real.
I look away fast, shoulders tensing.
Mom better be tangled up in that tent like a damn spider in a web.
I need the distraction.
31
Stormy
“Hey.”
The voice is casual.Missy.
I glance up to find her standing beside me, her expression open and easy in a way that feels … practised. Intentional. As I stand, she casts a quick glance toward where I’d just been looking, then back to me like she’s filing it away. “You mind if I join the packing party?”
I try for a smile, light and friendly. It feels a little brittle, but I mean it.
“Sure. It’s not exclusive.”
She grabs the supply box, arms straining slightly with the weight, and I step in to help her carry it to the truck.
