“Not sure about gossiping,” I say, “but maybe it would be good to talk about other stuff. Want to go sit outside?”
It’s not against the rules to talk. It might be tempting to domore, sure—I’m only human—but willpower has always been one of my strengths.
I’m hyperaware of our tent zippers, the sound of them amplified by the relative stillness of everything around us. The moon is less than half full, on its way to becoming a new moon in time for the night we’llallspend sleeping out under the stars in a few days. It’s just enough light to see Sadie and her silk pajamas—a green so pale it’s almost white—her smile bright even in the darkness.
“How about over here?” I suggest.
We make our way over to a big, rocky ledge down by the lake. With everyone else silent or asleep, it’s easy to forget we’re not alone.
Sadie settles down close to me, hugging her knees to her chest. Her shorts areveryshort, especially with how she’s sitting.
I force myself to look away.
“It’s so beautiful out here,” she says. “The travel guidebooks don’t do it justice.”
I’ve been out here before, but not like this—not in the middle of the night, and not with someone like Sadie. Not with anyone else at all.
I imagine what it’s like for her, seeing this view for the first time. I never thought I was one to take nature for granted, but after seeing it day in and day out for so many years, thenewnessof it is something I haven’t felt for a while. It’s been a long time since I just sat in wonder.
We take in the night sky, and how the lake is a mirror reflecting the multitude of twinkling stars back up at it. The mountains pierce skyward from the far side of the water, blotting out everything behind them.
“So, Sadie Whitlock,” I say after a moment, “how’d you learn to fish like that?”
She smiles, surprised. “My grandparents have a ranch in Texas,” she says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “We always fished at this little lake on their property—my granddad built a cabin there and everything.”
“Never would have guessed you’d spent time on a ranch,” I say.
“To be fair, once I figured out I could stay inside the cabin with a book while everyone else fished, I never looked back.”
I laugh. “That tracks.”
If I’d had a cabin to retreat into when it was clear fishing wasn’t my strong suit, I’m not sure I would have used it—I loved watching my dad pull in fish after fish. His unwavering confidence that I would improve made me want to keep trying. Even Matteo had better luck than I did when my dad eventually taught him; he caught on quickly and provided dinner for the three of us more times than I can remember.
My dad never gave me a hard time about that, which I appreciate.
The memory lingers like a dense fog. When it finally clears, I catch Sadie in my peripheral vision, staring out over the starlit water.
“I had a talk with Matteo this morning,” I say, breaking the silence.
I’m not even sure what compelled me to tell her. I hadn’t really intended to bring it up—but Sadie is so easy to talk to it feels like I could tell her anything.
“More than just two words at a time?” she asks, the corner of her mouth turning up in a grin.
“You noticed, huh?”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Please. The way he stopped by to ask for your tarp? You’ve got territorial lion energy when you’re together. Every hyena within a hundred miles would notice.”
I shake my head. She’s something else.
“I’m glad you brought it up, though,” she goes on. “I saw you guys talking before we headed out this morning, and Isowanted to ask about it, but I knew it was a sensitive subject. Aren’t you proud of my restraint, Thorn?”
Her eyes sparkle in the moonlight, and I can’t help but smile. Leaveit to Sadie to make the thing that’s felt so heavy for the last two years feel absolutely weightless.
“I am, actually.”
“Well?” she asks.
“Well, what?”
