“Don’t be,” I said.I didn’t move either.
I rolled and we lay facing each other.Close enough to feel each other's breath.He told me a story about him and Adam skating on the creek at ten, breaking through thin ice up to their knees and lying to Judy that their jeans were wet because of a snowball fight.I told him about winning an eighth-grade short story contest and refusing to read it aloud because I didn't feel like it was good enough.
“But you are going to write now,” he said softly.“And share it with whoever you want.”
We didn’t kiss that day...or night.We almost did, twice, once when I turned to say something and found him already looking at me, once when he brushed a leaf out of my hair and his hand stayed cupping the back of my head like a promise.Both times, the air went thin.Both times, he eased back like he could wait.
“Second site in the morning,” he said into the dark.
“Bossy,” I whispered.
“Organized,” he countered, and I felt him smile.
I slept harder than I expected and still woke early, the sky a pale seam at the horizon.He was already up, feeding the fire like it was a ritual.He handed me a mug, and we didn’t talk for a while.Birds tried a few notes.The meadow stretched around us.
We walked the property line with our coffee, the east grove, over to where the creek bends, the slight rise near the old maple that felt like it could hold a porch and a life.We flagged the maybe-spots with a post and orange ribbon.He pointed out drainage, winter sun angles, and how wind came in off the field.He didn’t tell me what to choose.He told me what each choice would mean so I could.
By noon, my cheeks hurt from the wind and smiling.The almost-kisses sighed around us like a secret we were keeping with the trees.
By the time I got home, the house smelled like roasted garlic and something sweet, Clara’s doing.Mason’s laugh drifted from the kitchen, low and easy in a way that was starting to be familiar again.I lingered in the doorway, unseen, watching him stand behind Clara, his hands resting on her hips as she stirred a pot on the stove.Jackson zipped past them with a toy truck, narrating his own demolition derby.
The sight made something loosen in my chest.Clara’s shoulders weren’t tight anymore.Mason’s voice wasn’t brittle and raw.They were still working, still fighting, but it was different now, less desperate, and full of hope.
I slipped upstairs and opened my laptop.The document I’d been avoiding glared back at me: the chapter I hadn’t been able to write.The one where everything cracked wide open, where Andrew’s mask slipped.I’d started it three times and abandoned it, the words too jagged to shape.
But something about the laughter downstairs, about Clara’s smile, about knowing they were finding their way back to each other, gave me the strength to try again.My fingers moved slowly at first, then faster, the sentences rough but true.I wrote until my eyes burned and the knot in my stomach finally loosened.
A buzz lit up my phone.
Brody:I had fun.
Me:Me too.
Brody:Do you think you found your spot?Or should we keep at it?
Me:Keep at it?You going to give up your free time until I decide where I want to build?That's quite the commitment, Palmer.
Something about typing the word commitment in a text Brody sent my heart racing.I didn't know exactly what was going on between us lately.
Brody:I'm not giving up anything, Morgan.We can try the other places we flagged.See how the sun sets, how it rises.You’ll know when it feels right.
Oh god, it did feel right, and that was terrifying.
Me:You want to camp again?
Brody:Unless you’re scared of spending another night under the stars with me.
Me:I’m not scared.
I was scared.
Brody:Good.Then it’s a date.
I stared at the screen, my pulse a little too quick.A date.Maybe he meant it lightly.Maybe he didn’t.Either way, I found myself smiling, new memories of warmth and hope pushing out the ones that had been haunting me.
Chapter 41
It had been a week since Brody and I camped out on my stretch of land, since the firelight and the almost-kisses that still lingered on my skin like a promise.Early May had arrived with warmth you wanted to cling to, the days started to stretch, and the evenings were cool with grass damp against bare feet.
