Page 57 of Meet Me Back Here

Forrest gently places the box in the back seat before we both climb into the car, and I turn on the engine. I quickly double-check the directions Hope gave me and start driving east, once again grateful that Phoenix is laid out in a grid. I don’t need to hook up GPS that will prematurely give our destination away.

Forrest has always been more patient than I am, so he doesn’t ask questions as I drive for nearly an hour, further and further from the lights of the city. On this seemingly uninteresting Sunday night in November, the roads are deserted, and our tires on the asphalt is the only sound. The rhythmic hum is soothing, settling around us.

Finally, I see the turn Hope warned me not to miss, and we head into the Tonto National Forest. Hope got us a day pass, but I don’t see anybody to check in with. The place is deserted. I guess we’re not near the camping grounds I saw advertised online. Or maybe this isn’t camping season? I have no clue.

I pull off on the side of the road, dirt and rocks crunching under our tires. When I cut the engine, we’re plunged into utter darkness.

“Cam…” Forrest says hesitantly as he looks around the car. With our tinted windows, it’s really impossible to see. “Where are we?”

“You’ll see,” I say, more excited than ever now that we’re finally here.

I hop from the car and circle to the box in the back, cutting the tape with the car key to pull out and set up a little telescope in the glow of the interior car light. It’s nothing fancy, smaller than the spindly legs of the tripod it stands on, but when I bend to look through it, I’m happy I had it rush delivered.

I tap on Forrest’s window since he still hasn’t gotten out, and he slowly opens the car door and emerges. Once all the doors are closed again, it takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the moonlight.

I understand Saguaro Lake is beautiful during the day, but for now, it’s only rippling waves of moonlight, softly shushing us as they reach the shoreline. When we look out, it’s mostly darkness, but I find Forrest’s sleeve and pull it slightly to get his attention.

But I don’t need to. He already sees.

Because painted across the sky is a galaxy worth of stars, the Milky Way brilliant and beautiful, blanketing the entire world. And it feels like we’ve truly stepped into a place where magic is real.

Slowly, shapes begin to appear as our vision adjusts. Mountains in the distance. Shadows of cacti climbing toward the sky. The expanse of the lake.

“Cam,” Forrest breathes, but he doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t have to.

I brought him here because a young boy liked to see the stars at a terrible summer camp, yes. But there’s one more surprise.

“Out there somewhere, there’s a star that some company has agreed to let me name The Treehouse. I’m almost certain it’s not official, and I’ll be honest, I don’t know how to read the charts they emailed me telling me where to find it, but it’s up there. And no matter where we are, we’ll always have it,” I explain.

“Cam,” Forrest says again, and I turn to look at him. I can make out his outline in the shadows and even a bit of the brilliant color of his sweatshirt. He’s facing me too.

Something shifts in the air, and it feels like there’s a rubber band stretched as far as it’ll go between us.

His hand shifts toward me before he drops it back to his side. I step forward and reach out to brush his fingers with mine.

Like he can feel the draw too, Forrest shifts closer to me, sliding his hand up to my wrist and invading every one of my senses. He’s so close I’m breathing his air.

My heart is jackhammering in my chest, and I know he can feel my pulse going wild beneath his fingertips.

It’s dark, but I feel his nose brush against the side of my head, and I my breath catches. When Forrest tightens his grip on my arm, I swear I can feel his hand tremble with barely-held restraint.

And I want to tell him to let go of whatever’s holding him back.

I want to tip my head back and taste him on my lips. I want to know every inch of him, and I want him to know me.

I want to kiss him. More than maybe I’ve wanted anything in my life. Out here, all alone, in the darkness. I want it so badly. Nobody would know.

But I’d know. And he’d know. And that would be enough to wreck us completely.

And shit, there’s Bridget. I’m a fucking terrible person.

So, I step back. I cover his hands with mine and pull them away from my skin.

“You should see through the telescope,” I say, my voice horse, like I’ve been screaming out loud instead of just in my head.

“Yeah,” Forrest says, and it sounds pained. He drags his fingers through his hair as he says it a second time. “Yeah.”

I look away when he starts shaking his head. I can’t watch his realization turn into regret.