“I’m just relieved we got you out of there in time,” Thorn replies.
He doesn’t make a point to remind her that he warned everyone against swimming in this waterfall, even though he could. He never seems to need other people to feel worse at the expense of him beingright—he’s so kind it hurts—
Especially because my first instinct is the exact opposite.
I want to yell at Zoe for making us all worry, for putting us in the position of having to save her. What if we hadn’t been able to? What if I hadn’t spotted her when I did, what if Thorn hadn’t been able to get there in time? It felt eternal in the moment, but couldn’t have been more than a minute or two before he arrived to help.
I also feel an urge bubbling up to point out how much worse this might have turned out if Thorn and I hadn’t workedtogether: thatdespite him telling me the most helpful thing would be for us to keep our distance, today proves we make a pretty great team.
But I keep my mouth shut, because we’re all just a bit shaken up right now, and I alreadyknowI’m right.
I just wish he could see that, too.
34THORN
The silence is so thick between us while Sadie and I walk back to camp that I wonder if we’ve both simply reverted to the rules of the day—but then, just before we get to our tents, she breaks it.
“Thanks for the coffee this morning,” Sadie says quietly, head down, focused on the path in front of her. “And my mug. That meant a lot.”
I stop walking.
I want to see her face—need to see it. I can’t tell from her voice what she’s feeling.
A moment later, she stops, too.
When she looks at me, it’s like an arrow to my chest, seeing her expression so careful, so guarded.
Imade those walls go up. I’m the reason she’s not smiling right now.
“Sadie, listen,” I start to say. “I just— I want—”
My words break off.
I want to kiss her. I want to time travel back to before I ever told her it would be most helpful for her to go away, and tell her what I truly meant was the exact opposite: that she’s the first person in years who’s made me feelalive. I want to spend the rest of this day having a picnicwith her in the wildflowers, talking each other’s ears off, counting butterflies and dreaming about clouds and, later, searching for constellations. And then, under the moon, I want to stop talking entirely, to see how quiet we can be and how close we can get.
Touching her back there at the waterfall—I almost didn’t want to let go.
Also, I owe her an apology.
“What do you want, Thorn?” she asks.
I swallow.
A loud buzzing in my back pocket slices clean through this moment and everything I was about to confess.
I pull out my phone.
“It’s Matteo,” I say, showing her the screen, as if she needs proof—proof that I’m not just looking for another excuse to push her away.
“You should probably answer it, then.”
I pick up the call a second too late.
A moment later, it starts vibrating again.
This time, I answer on the first ring. “Matty? What’s going on—are you okay?”
His voice, patchy and broken, barely pierces through the static.
