Parker pumps a fist. “Really?”
“Really,” I assure him.
He rushes in to hug me. The sleeping bag gets squished between us, but I only pull him in tighter. “Now,” I say, “before you go—three things.”
He nods.
“If it gets unsafe, you call or text me. Got it?” I pull my phone out to make sure there’s service here. There is. “Even if you have to walk out here to get service.”
“Gotcha.”
“Do not drink or takeanythingillegal for your age.”
“Tsk. Not even tempted. Jack and I never touch it.”
That tidbit makes me respect Kirsten even more.
“Lastly, no doing stuff with girls that goes below the neck. I mean it.”
He nods. “I won’t.”
I lift a brow. “I thought you said there won’tbeany girls here.”
“There won’t,” he blurts. “But if there were, I wouldn’t…do anything with parts below the neck.”
I scrutinize him, not fully convinced that what he’s saying is true—about the girls being there. “Okay, have fun,” I say with one last look into his eyes. Dang, he’s growing fast. Fast enough he’ll be driving himself to things like this soon.
“Oh, and now it’s your turn to admit thatIwas right.”
He’s already starting to walk away from me, but he turns on one heel and walks backward instead. “What?”
“About getting here?”
He laughs. “Oh, yeah. I never could have handled the stick shift in the canyon like that.”
“Not yet,” I say, emotion catching in my throat. “I’ll make sure that one day, you can.”
CHAPTER25
Kirsten
I sigh as Jack pulls up to the skull-bone balloons and puts the car in park.
“Don’t be depressed, Mom,” he says. “I don’t know what’s going on, but Parker is determined to find out.”
“No, don’t…don’t have him do that. That’s embarrassing. If you love something, you let it go. If it comes back—”
“I know about the butterfly thing, Mom. Parker thinks maybe he just got scared or something. If I find anything out, I’ll let you know.”
I roll my eyes because if he reallydidfind anything out, I actuallywouldwant to know. I’m miserable. I miss Beau like crazy, and I keep hoping he’ll call or text or show up. I want to hope that I was wrong about his lack of attraction for me. Or the misguided reasons he was drawn to me in the first place. But each day that goes by says I was probably right.
That idea is a porcupine in my chest. It’s popping out spikes on loop, making me wince in pain. Losing someone hurts. Really hurts.
“You want me to stay home tonight?” Jack offers.
I glance toward the hidden campground, swearing I hear female giggles. “Yes,” I say, “but I wouldn’t do that to you.”
He grins, then gets serious-faced. “You really going to be good?”
