“Uh…yeah.” He awkwardly coughs. “Went once or twice with my dad when I was little,” he says, shifting his sunglasses down over his eyes.
Dammit. I shouldn’t have asked.
I know about his dad leaving them a few years back—gone in the dead of night without a word. Veronica didn’t say much more, just that it changed Noah. And while I can’t pretend to know what that kind of loss feels like, I’ve seen what it does to people.
“Right…” I nod, keeping my voice even. “Well, I figured we’d start with the tents. Grab a snack. Maybe hit the water, see if we can fish something up.”
I ease the truck into our clearing and throw it in park, backing in for easier unloading. Noah doesn’t budge an inch.
“What is it?” I kill the engine and turn to face him.
He shifts in his seat. “I… forgot my sleeping bag.”
I blink.
“Seriously?”
“Didn’t pack it,” he states firmly. That’s it. No apology. Just a statement. Like he’s testing how far he can push before I snap.
I drag a hand through my hair. “Okay… fine. You can have mine. I’ll deal.”
“And… my tent. I didn’t bring my tent either.”
I stare at him. “You didn’t…” I exhale slowly. “How the hell did we make it this far without that coming up?”
He shrugs, unapologetic. “Guess I didn’t think about it.”
“We’re goingcamping. That’s literally the one thing youdothink about.”
He smirks, like he’s enjoying this. “Look, if you’re that upset, we can always turn around. Go home.”
Ah.There it is.
“No,” I say, already stepping out of the truck. “We’re not doing that. We’ll share.”
I hear his door swing open as he hurries after me to the back of the cab.
“You’re joking, right? We’re notsharinga tent. And definitely not a sleeping bag.”
“Got a better idea?” I open the tailgate, pulling out the gear. “Because unless you want to freeze or sleep upright in the cab with dead legs, this is it.”
“I still think the truck sounds better.”
“It’s not.” I drop the tent on the clearing. “Also, it’s your mess. This is the fix. Deal with it.”
He huffs behind me, clearly debating whether to keep arguing. But he doesn’t. That silence? I’m counting it as a win.
I get straight to work setting up. Thankfully, I brought a tent big enough for two. Is it ideal? No. Will it be tight? Sure, but not suffocating. We can make it work. At least, that’s what I tell myself…until I picture us trying to sleep.
My chest tightens. That will be…uncomfortable, to say the least.Sharing the same air. Maybe brushing knees as we both move during the night.
I push the thoughts away and keep moving. We’ll deal with it when we get there.
After a few minutes, Noah joins me. Doesn’t say anything, just starts helping. It’s a small thing, but it takes me by surprise. He could’ve just sat back and watched me struggle. Maybe he even wanted to. But here he is, holding the poles steady, passing me stakes.
There’s more to him than the attitude. A side that wasn’t always so sharp or prickly.
AndI’m curious to see that side… even if I know I probably shouldn’t.
