I get out and suck in a long breath. The valley opens up below, wide and stunning, with city lights far away. It’ll be a new moon tonight, which means we might see a lot of stars.
Vince gets out slowly, eyes sweeping the clearing. He turns in a slow circle, taking it all in.
“What is this?” he asks.
“An old hunting cabin.” I pop the trunk to unload our bags. “Darren and I bought it after my divorce. We were going to fix it up and sell it, but then the business exploded and… yeah, life.” I shrug. “It’s been our hideaway ever since.”
Grabbing our pillows and blankets, Vince follows me inside, saying nothing. Dust swirls around us, the stale air making my nose wrinkle. I prop the door open as I pull down the fold-up bed. Darren and I always secure it to the rafters so mice or other rodents don’t find their way into it.
While he unrolls the bedding, I keep moving—hauling the cooler in and dragging the gas camp stove outside to cook dinner. Vince watches from the front steps, arms braced on his knees, like he’s not sure where he belongs. I can’t look at him,can’t slow down at all. If I do, fear will choke me. I hate how it seems like everything is unraveling.
We eat chili with sour cream and cheese, which I had packed thinking it would be the perfect comfort food. Now it just sits a little sour in my stomach.
“I brought bagels and cream cheese for breakfast,” I say after a while. “I hope that’s okay.”
He barely nods before murmuring, “Sounds perfect.”
The last of twilight disappears, revealing stars as crisp and endless as an ocean. But the wind is colder than I expected, cutting through my jacket.
I pull it tighter around me, wishing I had brought something warmer.
Vince gets to his feet. “Stay here.”
He goes inside. When he comes back, he has the thick blanket from the bed. He sits close enough that he can drape it around both of us.
“Better?” he asks quietly.
I nod, my throat tight. “Yeah. Thanks.”
He doesn’t move away. His knee stays pressed against mine, solid and grounding. I want to lean into him, to slide my arm around his middle… but I’m not sure if he’d let me.
The scent of chili and hot sauce clings to his hoodie, and I focus on that. On the steady rise and fall of his chest beside me. On the fact that he’s here. That he stillchoseto come. Even if he’d hated the idea, he still chose it.
We sit like that for a while, the stars stretched wide above us, the cold blocked by the blanket and Vince’s solid presence at my side. I start to relax and try to convince myself this’ll be enough.
“Fletch.”
The way he says my name makes my stomach tighten. Not critical. Just careful. Like he’s testing the ground before he steps.
“Yeah?”
He stares out at the valley, jaw tight. “I didn’t react how I should’ve when you told me about this, and I’m sorry.”
I don’t reply. Don’t reach for him either, sensing he isn’t finished.
“It might not make sense to you, but for over a year now, it’s felt like pieces of me are… slipping away, I guess. And sometimes… shit, I don’t know how to explain this.” He rubs his neck. “Sometimes, things trigger me into thinking I’ll lose myself completely or that I’ll…relyon others to do basic stuff.”
My chest aches. Is that really what I did to him? Made him feel like he’d lost a part of himself?
I swallow hard.
“When you planned this weekend,” he continues, quieter now, “I know you were trying to do something nice. I do. But it felt like… it wasn’t mine. Like I had no control over it.”
“I was just trying to surprise you.”
“I know. But after the other night at work…” He sighs. “Ever since my diagnosis, really, it’s felt like my life is being decidedaroundme instead ofwithme.”
I curl inward, his words landing heavy in my chest. I want to refute it, but I don’t. I can’t. He isn’t wrong. I decided this for him.
