Fuck, I’m losing it.
“So.” Cameron doesn’t look up from the tangle of wires. “You want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
“Whatever’s making you look like you want to murder that poor generator.”
I pass him a rag without being asked. “Focus.”
“I am focused.” He tightens a screw, the metal giving a satisfying click. “But you’re not. You’ve been checking the Levines’ cabin every five minutes.”
Have I? Shit.
Cameron chuckles. “So. Dakota.”
My head snaps toward him. “What the?—”
“Oh, come on.” He sits back on his heels, wiping grease from his hands. “You think I didn’t notice? My cabin’s right across from yours. I see her leave. Every morning.”
“You’re spying on me?”
“Our cabin’s right there, man. Sienna thinks it’s cute. Says Dakota’s got it bad.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like?” He holds up two wires.
It’s like torture. Having her so close but never close enough. Holding her while she sleeps, but watching her leave. Wanting her lips against mine, her body under mine, but settling for these stolen hours because I don’t want to pressure her.
“Complicated,” I finally say.
Cameron makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a snort.
My hands clench and unclench. I force them to relax. “I don’t need relationship advice from my little brother.”
“Clearly, you need something.” He reconnects the final wire and sits back. “Try it now.”
I crank the generator’s starter. It coughs once, twice, then roars to life, the smell of gasoline and hot metal filling the air. Electricity hums through the lines we’ve been repairing for days. Lights flicker on in the main lodge, and someone, probably Rosa, cheers from inside.
“Told you I could fix it.” Cameron’s face is streaked with grease, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, but he looks happier than I’ve seen him since before the world went to shit.
“Never doubted you.”
Cameron’s always been good with his hands, better than me at putting things back together when they break.
Movement catches my eye. Dakota and Sienna are walking along the path toward the main lodge, heads bent close in conversation. She’s changed into fresh clothes, hair pulled back in a loose braid, the morning sun catching on its dark strands. Her walk is different with Sienna—looser, more relaxed. A smile breaks across her face, and the sight of it hits me like a punch to the chest.
“That’s one chocolate bar for me.” Cameron follows my gaze. “You’ve got it worse than I thought.”
I tear my eyes away. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He taps his chin. “How is that saying? Like a hungry… No. Like you’re seeing water after a week in the desert.”
“Dramatic much?”
“Accurate much?” He throws the dirty rag at me. “Look, I know you. You’re planning seventeen different scenarios for how this plays out, calculating odds, minimizing risk. But maybe, and hear me out, maybe, you should just tell her how you feel.”
“She knows.”
